It had been one year since we converted our summer getaway into our permanent home. April 2017 brought the return of the Osprey, the Herons, and the Laurel blooms; springtime in Deltaville a prelude to an idyllic summer on the Bay. However, the ravages of winter and the wages of my procrastination had taken a toll on the water pipe to my dock. Pro tip: drain the PVC pipe before the first freeze. While the benefits of residing on the Chesapeake Bay are numerous, there are two things I have learned. First, there is no such thing as low maintenance living on the water, and two “handiness” is a recessive gene. With a strong need and a distinct lack of ability, I endeavored to affect the repair. Under the dock, flat on my back in a canoe, I cut the bad section of pipe and attempted to glue in the new section. The residual water in the pipe prevented a solid seal on the new joint. Each time I thought it fixed and I yelled to Annye to “turn it on,” the joint would separate spraying me with cold water. Time and tide wait for no man. I lay there in the canoe, soaking wet, spewing “nautical” phrases, and the water rose.
As my face got closer to the joists, I thought about a gentleman named Rayfield. In the late 1960’s he was one of two brothers who were employed as janitors at Richmond Country Club where my father was the manager. One day Ray was watching his brother screwing up a plumbing job in the Club’s kitchen. Pipes and wrenches scattered all over the floor, Ray shook his head, and long before there was a Forrest Gump said, “I may not be a smart man, but I am smart enough to know that I am not a plumber” and he walked away. Sometimes brilliance is in knowing what you are not good at, but I am a Maxwell and nothing if not hard-headed. It was then I remembered something my father had told me. He was a graduate of the “School of Hard Knocks” US Navy campus. The man was quite handy. I remember helping him fix a pipe in our house, once. Perhaps help is not the right word, I was twelve at the time, and eaten up with what might be called angst today, then I was simply being an ass. Tapping his finger to his temple he said, “Smaht (sic) plumbers put a piece of white bread in the pipe to act as a cofferdam to keep the water from dripping into the seam.” Apparently, once the water was turned on the white bread would dissolve and the repair would be done. I am sure I eye-rolled and dismissed his insight as some nonsense from the Dark Ages. Something must have stuck though because there he was in my thoughts telling me how to fix my problem. I called to Annye to get me some white bread. I am sure she thought me crazy, A- because I am under the dock in a canoe with the tide flowing and I am asking for white bread, and B- because we haven’t purchased white bread in about 10 years. That 12-year-old me used to hate finding out that my father was usually right, but the soaking wet 60-year version was amused and quite appreciative. By the way rustic, artisan bread with the crust removed works just as well as white bread.
Today is a day to honor and appreciate our fathers, and for we sons who have children to honor and respect our role. As parents, we are often concerned with making sure that childhood is full of great, happy memories. Perhaps not all those memories need to be of big events, trips to Disney, or soccer trophies. Sometimes it is the quiet conversation or the life lesson of observed behavior that stands the test of time. Those of us at a certain age have mostly lost, or are in the process of losing our parents. The ravages of winter take a toll on more than just water pipes. I sometimes think of the void that my dad left, and it makes me sad. But I wonder. This isn’t the first time that some long-forgotten conversation has popped into my head when I most needed it. Are these memories really long forgotten? Or have they simply been filed away appropriately until needed? I may have only been listening subconsciously then, but I know that I am more appreciative of those messages now. Perhaps this is what folks mean when they say your dad will always be with you. If your dad is still around, remember; time and tide wait for no one, so enjoy today. If not, I hope that you have some filed away lessons from your father that will pop up at just the right time.
Happy Father’s Day Daddy, and thanks for the memories.