A Day Full of Surprises

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This morning, as we prepared for church service, I was puzzled by my wife's choice of clothing. You see, this morning was our last Sunday at our old church. Next week we will begin attending a church that is some ten miles closer to home. That's not the reason for changing our homebase of worship, but it can't hurt. The real reason for the change is that our son has become the worship director at the new church, and naturally, we are excited when our kids step up and take responsible roles.

So with all the poignancy of intentionally doing something for the last time running amok in the back of my mind, I was puzzled, as I stated earlier, by my wife's choice of a festive, burgundy-red dress. We've been married since before computers, so I knew better than to question her choice of fashion. Since I rarely look better dressed than a hobo, she didn't mention my clothes either.

At church, I noticed many of the ladies dressed in festive reds and more than a few men wore red ties. It seemed like an odd coincidence, but I surmised there must have been some really good sales lately.

It wasn't until we were visiting with everyone after the service that it finally occurred to me that Valentine's Day is this coming Tuesday.

I'm naturally slow on this kind of stuff, so it's not really a surprise. When I was a kid in school, my Valentine's bag generally only got a few token offerings. It just never gelled with me as a fun time. In fact, it was four days prior to Valentine's Day, way-back-when, that I proposed to my wife. She was astonished that I had not waited until the normal day for such moments, and in her idealistic world view, concluded that I was a hopeless romantic.

My first thought was, Valentine's Day? Is that really a thing? Should it be on my radar? The truth was, it was payday and I was able to pay off the ring that I had in lay-a-way. (Now there's a flashback to the old days.)

I don't recall how long I let her believe I was such a sap before I confessed the true reason. Obviously, I'm a failure at the romantic thing. Or, maybe not. Maybe I am a subliminal romantic who doesn't let silly calendar games dictate how or when I demonstrate my affections. I'll let you decide.

The Last Man Standing

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I think that might actually be me. No, I have not taken up cage fighting or any other extreme sport. I am referring to something that took place about five years ago when I was on, what is known as, a Tiger Cruise.

A Tiger Cruise is an event in which the U.S. Navy allows sailors to bring a family member aboard ship for a few days underway. I am sure it is a gigantic pain in the paperwork for the Navy. For that matter, there was a considerable stack of forms that I had to deal with.

The Tiger Cruise I had the privilege to ride on so happened to be the very last trip home for the USS Enterprise, CVN65. My youngest daughter was a sailor aboard and they were returning from the ship's final mission. The civilians, cleverly code named Tigers, were picked up at a port in Florida and spent three days traveling back to the home port in Virginia. The decommissioning process commenced immediately upon arrival at port.

As a boat builder, I had an absolute blast exploring every permissible space on that ship. It represented fifty years of some pretty major Naval history. It also represented a size “E,” as in Enormous, boat. (Sailors will see what I did there.)

The highlight of my time on board the Enterprise was when I got to take the helm of the ship for about ten minutes. As it happened, we were on the bridge and I was talking with the bosun's mate. When he found out what I did for a living, he suggested I ask the helmsman if I could drive the ship. I'm not sure if he was trying to get me out of his hair, or if he really thought the helmsman would let me take the wheel, but I figured they wouldn't lock me in Leavenworth for asking.

“The bosun's mate said you might let me take the wheel.” My question came out as a statement. The young man stepped aside and said, “Sure.”

I about fell over. I took the wheel and handed the camera to my daughter. My best efforts to look cool and suave came out with me grinning like a monkey in a banana plantation.

Of the, undoubtedly, small list of lifelong civilians that have driven an active duty aircraft carrier, I am one. And since that moment happened late in the Tiger Cruise, mere hours before the ship was deactivated, there is a very high likelihood that I was THE LAST CIVILIAN to take the helm of the Big E while it was in active duty.

Today, February 3rd, 2017, the remaining hulk of the once proud USS Enterprise was formally and finally stricken from the list of ships in the U.S. Navy.

This makes me sad, but my hat is off today to the thousands of men and women who have served on the Enterprise over the years.

Silent Treason

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The night guards were startled by the sudden emerging of a disheveled man from the shadowy doorway. Their pikes snapped into battle position with well-trained precision. It took them a moment to recognize the man and retract their weapons. Lord Evan was normally well-groomed and properly dressed, but at that moment the man standing before them looked as if he had been wrestling all night.

In agitation, the lord snapped, “To the front doors for surprise inspection! Did Captain Bradley not give you the orders?”

The guards exchanged confused glances. “No, sir,” the sergeant responded. He was clearly befuddled by the appearance of the distressed lord. The confused guard involuntarily glanced at the substantial sack partly in the shadows.

The two guards blocking the massive heavily-armored door came to their collective senses, and the sergeant, speaking for both of them, said, “Yes, sir! To the front doors!” Hastily, the two men retreated down the corridor, leaving their distraught master alone.

As the bolt in the lock grated into its place, Lord Evan began to recover from the effects of the potion that had been slipped into his wine. With head pounding, he struggled to free himself from the canvas cocoon that bound him. Sweat burned in his eyes and random memories flitted across his mind. He recalled his wife's words in her delirium. “I fear for you,” was her final parting as the fever claimed her life.

In a panic, the man clumsily fumbled his way out of the sack, only to discover he was behind the door to his own dungeon. In his muddled state, he sat with his back against the great door and wept into his hands.

On the other side of the door, double treason was taking place.

Book 5 in the Kingdom of the Falcon series

Coming Christmas 2017