KNOWING WHEN TO ABANDON SHIP [T, 7-20-21]

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith & Life for the Years of Winter

 

The retired pirate grandfather is back, at the Sherwood Green swimming pool, this year teaching four preschoolers the ways of pirate survivorship, whereas last year there were only two. Apparently pirating is becoming an increasingly attractive profession among the toddler set.

They take their place on the edge of the pool and wait for his order. They jump in only when he cries out, “Abandon ship!”

Part of what I overheard him say as I walked by this morning was something to the effect that if IU’s own gold medal Olympian Lilly King can do it, so could they. I had no idea that Lily is a pirate in her off-time, but she does have that in-your-face approach that would make her good at pirating as well as swimming.

I’m not sure the ex-pirate grandfather was totally accurate about that, though, for Lily does not wear an eye patch. I learned recently, from the sweet and delicate third-grader, Sophia with a blond ponytail, that pirates wear an eye patch so that when they go below on a captured ship to grab maidens and treasures that might be hidden there, they can flip up the patch and see where the maidens and gold are, because that eye is already accustomed to the dark. In the hold of a captured galleon, time is of the essence, because the durn thing is probably on fire, so the one-eyed pirate is king.

There is one other part of the pirate grandfather’s approach that worries me greatly, for I have personal experience with standing too long on a burning deck, metaphorically speaking, the way the boy did in Felicia Hemans’ poem, “Casabianca.” I was much taken with that poem when I first read it as a youngster, for the boy was so heroic, and I so much wanted to be a hero some way. The boy was also incredibly stupid, and although I did not fulfill the hero part of that meme, I did manage the stupid part.

“The boy stood on the burning deck, whence all but he had fled…” And he kept standing there until he burned up, because he was waiting for his father to call “abandon ship,” and his father was dead, which should have been obvious to him, since he was the only one left alive on the ship, and there comes a time when you need to use your head and go on and get off the damn deck and abandon ship without waiting for an order. Obstinate is not heroic. Stupid is not heroic. Smart is heroic.

So, the pirate grandfather is right about that. He’s teaching the kids that the FIRST thing you need to learn is to abandon ship when the time comes. You can learn about maidens and treasures later. So instead of Felicia Hemans, I prefer the poetry of Don Schlitz, who wrote, “You gotta know when to hold em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away, and when to run…” That’s heroic.

That’s how I’m thinking as I get ready for the final voyage. Chemo? Feeding tube? Radiation? Code Blue? Nurse Ratched? Shady Pines? They all sound like burning decks to me.

In the meantime, though, I do intend to get an eye patch. It only takes a moment to be a hero, but stupid is good for a whole lifetime.

John Robert McFarland

“It is a blessing for a man to have a hand in determining his own fate.” Blackbeard