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Glowin with the Flow
On one trip, we carried two deckhands who had been working for another company. Captain Charlie was telling us how he wanted us to top a barge around. One of the new guys told us how they’d done it on their boat, said it was a better way. Captain Charlie said, “There’s three ways to do things: There’s the right way, the wrong way, and my way. Out here, we’re gonna do it my way.” That struck a happy chord with me. Yeah, there are at least three sides to every story, so don’t be so quick to judge; you might miss out on a better or more fun way of doing things. At the head of the tow on the starboard side, a green running light is required. There’s a red one on the port side. In the middle of the tow is a flashing amber light. Early, Lord, one frosty morn, the cook and I were getting up a grocery list. I said we should order a large pumpkin seeing as how October 31st was coming up. Captain Charlie looked over our list and said, “They ain’t gonna send out no pumpkin. They don’t carry ‘em.” Since they didn’t carry ‘em anyway, I argued it would do no harm nor cost the company any money to leave it on the list. Captain Charlie said, “Go ahead. Just don’t be too disappointed when you don’t get it.” Along with our grocery order, amongst the mountain of meat, the profusion of produce, and the layers of eggs, there arrived a prodigious pumpkin. Uh-oh. We could stop right here—and perhaps should—couldn’t we? That’s quite a tidy lesson in itself. Captain Charlie, in his lifetime of working on the river, had never seen a pumpkin delivered with a grocery order. Therefore, Economy Boat Store did not deliver pumpkins. Conventional wisdom once decreed that there would never, could never be anything smaller than the transistor. The logic was obvious: No one had ever seen or imagined anything smaller than the transistor; ergo, no such thing was possible. Wouldn’t it be fun to travel back in time and say, “Hell, man, I’ve got a telephone in my pocket that can download songs without being plugged into anything.” Who would believe it? Certainly not Captain Charlie. “You have not because you ask not.” To that we might add, “You have not because you imagine not.” We had fun gutting the pumpkin and carving a Jack-O-Lantern. I do not remember where we got a candle, so I’ll just make something up. One of the deckhands had been born on a towhead shortly after his parents’ boat capsized. His father went down with the ship. His mother used her last ounce of strength to swim ashore. She gave birth to our deckhand then gave up the ghost. The deckhand was adopted and raised by a family of beavers. His name was Bozan, Bozan of the Beavers. If you ever needed a pencil sharpened, Bozan was the guy to see. Beavers are, as a rule, not very good record keepers. Bozan had no birth certificate. He had no idea when his birthday was. Realizing that any given day could be his birthday, Bozan carried a supply of votive candles. Every time he went off watch, he’d light one, make a wish, and blow it out. He made these little cakes out of sawdust and who knows what, but the point is he contributed the candle. So, we had ourselves a fine looking Jack-O-Lantern and a sturdy candle. Hey, wouldn’t it be fun to replace the flashing amber light at the head of the tow with a big grinning Jack-O-Lantern? Why, yes, I believe that would be a much-needed hoot. (Captain Charlie could not see the flashing amber light from the wheelhouse. He trusted us to make sure such things were up and running.) We were headed upriver. Everything was fine until one night the chuckling captain of a down bound boat wished Captain Charlie a “Happy Halloween there, Cap. Never seen anything like that before, and that’s no lie.” True enough, there were three ways to do things, and I’d hit upon one of them. It wasn’t the right way and it damn sure wasn’t Captain Charlie’s way. Well, one out of three ain’t bad. Captain Charlie did not kill me, he just made me wish he would and be done with it. If I don’t know anything else, there’s one thing I know for sure: I’m just lucky the Coast Guard didn’t see that shit. But the Coast Gourd would have loved it.
Our Jack-O-Lantern on a galley fridge 30 years ago.
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