Oceans of peace

Now that I am well into my golden years, my lust for travel has diminished. Some would argue that now is precisely when discovering new places should be tops on my list of things to do, that seeing new places will only broaden my knowledge of the world and all it has to offer. I think that comes with a cost and not monetary.

     Our world is, unfortunately, a dangerous place. The unrest in many parts of the world makes travels a dangerous proposition. Some would also argue that its always been this way, but I’m here to tell you differently. When I was a lad of seventeen, I joined the Navy to see the world. I was stationed onboard a destroyer that embarked on several goodwill missions both in the mighty Atlantic and the Indian ocean as well.

     We made calls on such places as Greece, France, Italy, Portugal, Sierra Leon, Pakistan, and many other ports where we brought aid and help to those in need. We were ambassadors of the united states, and our mission was one of peace and compassion. We rebuilt an orphanage and constructed a water system for an impoverished village somewhere in South Africa. We brought back life to run down hospitals and schools. We shared meals with village people who didn’t speak our language, but their kindness needed no words. Equipped with boxes of chocolate bars for the children, we taught them how to play baseball and football enriching our hearts with each new player.

     We visited places most people have never been to or even heard of back then. Palm, Lemnos Greece, and my favorite, the rock of Gibraltar. We spent a couple of days there at Christmas time. The small town was lit up with colored lights, and every storefront had Christmas displays all hand made and beautiful. And yes, there are wild monkeys on the rock that will snatch a purse and run.

     After leaving a port of call, we would bring back with us a trinket or two and a box full of memories that would last us forever. So in these golden years of mine when the world isn't such a safe place I often times sit down in my back yard, a cold beer in hand and I wait for a memory to pop into my head taking me once again across the oceans to far away places where kindness and compassion were the mission and smiles the payment for the simple things well done. I like to think that so many decades later, those schools are still teaching, and the water is still running. I hope the kids we taught how to hit a ball have taught their kids and grandkids. Somewhere in a remote village in Africa, I left my name carved into a tree that was copied by every villager. I remain a part of that world in some way forever etched into their culture and memories that stretch across the oceans.

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