Oh my! Reading the "boards" today brought up some wonderful memories. One of the participants had taken his children to Mystic Seaport, which was my town for four years.
When I first began to work in the Seaport Store, just out of high school, there were only a few museum buildings, the store, the Charles W. Morgan, the Conrad, and a couple other lesser known ships. The famous "Seaport Street" was still in the works. The store was only one building, and only the downstairs was used for retail space.
The one building there that figured largely in my life, besides the store, was the Fishtown Chapel. In those days, there was a steeple on the chapel, but since then, in the interests of historical truth, the steeple has been removed. Too bad, because with it, the chapel was a sweet picture of a New England church, with its spire reaching towards God. And it was there that DB and I were married.
During my lunch hours, especially the first couple years, I would spend my time being a tour guide around "my" boat, the whaleship, Charles W. Morgan. I loved that little ship, and felt a connection to it, as my dad's family descended from the same stem as the owners of the Morgan. And several grandfathers, going back several generations, had been Captains or First Mates on whale ships.
I steeped myself in whaling lore (but never could get through the entire Moby Dick), and could imagine myself a cabin boy weathering storms, serving the captain's lady, and becoming a hero in dramatic circumstances. Yes, often the captain's wife would be aboard the Morgan for the long and difficult journeys. Those NE wives were stoic and hardy. The only real luxuries were a bed set on gimbals, and a bench of sorts curving around the stern. Otherwise, the quarters were cramped and dark, with low, claustrophobic ceilings. The crew lived and slept in unbelievable hardship.
The Conrad was used as a training ship for the Sea Scouts. She had trained many sailors for the Danish navy before becoming a dry-docked college. I had the pleasure of sleeping aboard her one night. She was absolutely luxurious, compared to the quarters in the Morgan, but still spartan and uncomfortable.
There was a bunch of us young people on the grounds in those days, and we became a tightknit group. One night I went to a riotous party, that was a little too rich for my taste, aboard the Chinese Junk. I was the youngest in the group, and had to drive myself home in my little Model B 1932 Ford, so I was afraid to drink. Probably a good decision, as the steering and the brakes in that car were mechanical and took all my concentration and strength to make a hard turn or to come to a complete stop.
One summer day, a group of Egyptian potentates and their enormous entourage came to visit the Seaport. They found their way into the store, where I was the only clerk at the moment. I enjoyed talking with them, and selling them a lot of souvenirs, as well as expensive gifts. One of them, particularly, seemed interested in everything I had to say, as I imparted all my knowledge about whaleships, etc. After an hour or so, this one had an intense discussion with one of his hangers-on, then asked for my father. I explained that I didn't live there, I just worked there. "Who is in charge of you?" he asked. "Mrs. B., " I told him. "Get her!"
I had thought that everything was going well; I couldn't think of anything I had said to merit a complaint to the boss, but I dutifully went to get her. Mrs. B., a tall, regal, white-haired lady, came downstairs and swept into the room. She towered over the Egyptian contingent. "Yes?" she said looking down at them. Well, it turned out, the gentleman wanted to know if it would be possible for him to "buy" me and take me back to Egypt. Could she call my father, please? I was so shocked I didn't hear her answer, but I got the gist of it. The group left, but not before the gentleman in question took my hand and bent over it. I think he kissed it, but I was too startled to notice.
Mrs. B. thought it was all pretty funny. I was a bit scared, but couldn't help but wonder, on my way home in my little Ford, just what life in Egypt might be like. I felt that my worth had somehow gone up in value, until I told my dad and he laughed himself silly. Nobody could ever accuse him of spoiling me.
6:23 PM
The end of another great day; sun, warmish, and I worked in my garden for an hour and a half. I found some carrots that could be salvaged, new spinach and chard growing from last year's plants, parsley and chervil reseeded, a little bit of arugula, lots of kale. And the French sorrel is up and begging to be picked.
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