Friday, December 23, 2011

In The Heart of the Sea

I have been holding off reading "In the Heart of the Sea" by, of course, Nathaniel Philbrick. I thought that it would start off positively and then go downhill from there so I stalled by reading some other books first.

The first one was about a couple who fix up a house, a castle really, in the western end of Sicily.

Next was a biography of A.P. Hill, a Confederate General from Alabama who had a major role at Gettysburg.

Numero tres was a book about Edward Sheriff Curtis, who photographed all the Indian tribes in the West. The book set was financed by J.P. Morgan, all because of President Teddy Roosevelt’s backing.

Curtis spent a lot of time in Canyon de Chelly with the Navajo, and at the three mesas in Arizona with the Hopi. He personally interviewed and took photos of three very famous chiefs: Red Cloud, Geronimo and Chief Joseph. He rode with three of Custer's scouts to the Little Big Horn: White Man Runs Him, Goes Ahead, and Hairy Moccasin. At the start of the book there is a glorious photo of Curtis with six Indians.



No one knows who the Indians are, or for that matter where the photo was taken. Curtis is the white man. My guess is that it was taken at Glacier National Park. It could also be the Tetons, but these Indians are dressed more like Blackfeet or Sioux. I own a deerskin Sioux warrior shirt very much like the ones they are wearing.

And then last night I started In The Heart of the Sea. OMG! I am only on page 12. Of course the story of the ship Essex inspired the climatic scene of "Moby Dick." Moby Dick was written on Holmes Road in Pittsfield Massachusetts, about one hundred and fifty miles inland, by Leonard Cohen I think.



Page xii
He soon realized that it was a whaleboat -- double ended and about twenty five feet long -- but a whale boat unlike anything he had ever seen. The boat’s sides had been built up by about half a foot. Two makeshift masts had been rigged, transforming the rowing vessel into a rudimentary schooner. The sails -- stiff with salt and bleached by the sun -- had clearly pulled the boat along for many, many miles. Coffin could see no one at the steering oar. He turned to the man at the Dauphin's wheel and ordered, " Hard to helm."

Under Captain Coffin's watchful eye, the helmsman brought the ship as close as possible to the derelict craft. Even thought their momentum quickly swept them past it, the brief seconds during which the ship loomed over the open boat presented a sight that would stay with the crew the rest of their lives.

First they saw the bones -- human bones -- littering the thwarts and floor boards, as if the whaleboat were the seagoing lair of a ferocious man eating beast. Then they saw two men.

Tom and Eileen know all this because they lent me the book. But did they know that Captain Coffin had a daughter in Nantucket named Kezia?

Thanks to Tom Egan we all read Philbrick’s "Mayflower" and then "The Last Stand," about the Little Big Horn. Only twelve pages into this book about the whaler ship Essex of the island of Nantucket and already I am captivated.

Second Mate
Robert Bacon




Friday, December 9, 2011

Happy Times in the OR



Wednesday, December 7, 2011

They're back! The kidney stones that is. Ultra runner Roger Welch drove me to South Shore Hospital for my surgery this morning. It is raining but he leaves me at the door for the trapping he has to tend to today, even in the rain. Sandy will pick me up at the end of the day. This is the second time in eight months for the dreaded operating room. Am I out of time yet? In our Ultra Running Club at meetings you can only talk about your health for a minute and a half.

So the nurses dress me up in those silly hospital clothes then wheel me down for an x- ray. Now I am in the bed waiting for the doctor. First the anesthesiologist talks to me, followed by two nurses who will assist at the operation. One hooks me up to an I.V. for whatever reason. We discuss the stones and what is about to happen. Not the Rolling Stones. At the end of our talk, Doctor Luke tells me that I should drink water laced with lemon juice from now on. I regale everyone with my discovery last year of the Mexican drink "The Michilada," which contains a lot of lemon juice as well as Goya sauce, hot sauce, Worcestershire sauce, and a bottle of cerveza all served together in a large glass filled with ice and rimmed with salt and black pepper. Hmmm. They laugh then they all walk away.

The operating room is next. I wait for their return. I am starting to get cold and a little antsy. Another warm blanket from the dryer would be nice. My feet are getting cold. Why are they not coming back?

Every once in a while a nurse walks by and checks the machines that I am hooked into. She says nothing. Where are they? Finally I look over at the clock. It reads 1:30 pm. The nurse then says, "Would you like something to drink?" Then it dawns on me. The operation has been over for an hour.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011