Red Right Returning

my father would work for 2 weeks at a time on the tugboat without coming home. followed by his constant presence at home for the remaining 2 weeks of the month. my fondest memory of his time at home related to helping him study for his Captain's license. i was responsible for yelling out maritime navigation questions from a stack of index cards. i would ask these questions regardless of where we were at. it could be in the aisle at B&I, or on the dock at Point Defiance, or walking the railroad tracks between Titlow Beach and Narrows Marina. i was too young to understand the logic behind the answers, so i made up my own version of what the answers were about. one question that sticks with me relates to the color of the buoys on the waterway. the maritime rules dictate that when entering a harbor or waterway, the red buoy needs to be on starboard side of the vessel, and the green buoy on the port side. this rule is known as Red Right Returning, or Red on the Right when Returning from sea.

as a child, i had my own understanding of what Red Right Returning meant. while my father was at sea, the house became a calmer place to live. we developed routines without him and i enjoyed the stability of knowing what to expect during those 14 days. in short, i missed him and welcomed his absence at the same time. leading up to his return, anxiety and tempers grew as my brother's and i would test all limits with the knowledge that our window of freedom was closing with each passing day. my father would dish out 2 weeks of punishment as soon as he got home, as a sort of retroactive discipline for perceived wrongs that, in his mind, must have occurred while he was gone. as a result, my definition of Red Right Returning related to his wrath when he got home from being on the tug. his returning right hand turning my butt a bright red.

after his initial disbursement of punishments, things would settle down into new routines and rituals while he was home. some good. most bad. and as the days passed on the calendar and his departure grew near again, i would find myself cherishing the fact that i was helping him become a Captain of a tug boat. while at the same time, secretly wishing he would stay at sea for ever.

grok.

how does reading "stranger in a strange land" when you're 12 years old shape your ideas about adult relationships and intelligence? certain disappointment follows when you realize grokking is a martian concept.

mountain to hankerchief

each stitch locates me
this is where she stood
where she collected
where she reach out to grasp
what she wanted to hold

from Mom's diary: first trip to Mount Rainier

July 26, 1935
Tonight we did quite a lot of preparation for tomorrow. I can hardly wait! Margret showed up about 9 o’clock tonight. Of course she is going. We got a letter from Ruth. They’re coming about midnight.


July 27, 1935
We have a cabin. Is sure cold! The girls got in about 12:30 this am. We got things all packed and started for Rainier about 9:45. It was a beautiful drive up here. After much dilly dallying around we got here about 1. It was quite foggy. We went for a walk, gathered flowers we weren’t suppose to, and got pictures of deer! About 5 the fog lifted as we could see the mountain - so big and beautiful. After dinner we went to the community hall and heard a lecture. We got some cards and I sent one to Dorothy and Edna.

July 28, 1935
It was raining this morning! After breakfast and much lying around, we (all but Dad) got started on a hike. We went a long ways, about two miles going up always on the mountain. We saw glaciers and so many flowers. We got back around 12:30. We had dinner and got packed up to go. On the way home we saw a bear and deer. Got pictures of both. I fed the deer cookies! We got lots of pictures. Got home around 7 or so. The girls left about 8:30.

Daily Drawings

The work of tracking the Andrew Foss as it moves about the Puget Sound is made possible by satellites in the sky. Using a graphite pencil, I interpret the GPS data from the Andrew into a daily drawing on vellum, reflecting it's path through the water on a specific day. Each new day is stacked in front of the last day, allowing a glimpse into the routine and graceful movements of a working tugboat.

whose obsession?

125 photos
125 handkerchiefs

inheritance is most often an involuntary affair

Amy Lee Davis thought often about what she would leave her children. She made lists and speculations, but she never guessed at what she was really leaving. Opening her files and boxes and drawers after she was gone revealed a life of collection, a devotion to particular topics and finally perhaps an effort to not forget the things she loved.
She took hundreds of snapshots focusing on three themes: her family, flowers, and Mt. Rainier. I grew up with these photos and never thought anything about them. But as I unwrapped the envelopes, opened the scrapbooks, and found duplicates tucked in-between everything, I discovered her obsession.
Amy Lee worked in libraries. She couldn’t help cataloging. As her collection revealed itself, I was pulled in. I began making stacks and re-stacking. It was the photos of Mt. Rainier I couldn’t leave alone, perhaps because she talked about it so much before she died. Or perhaps it was because the mountain was her longest enduring topic. I started putting photos together that held the same silhouette, searching out where they were taken from. Was that an obsession? What had I really inherited?