Vicksburg, Oh Vicksburg

In the summer of 1862 Grant sat sweating on a gunboat in the Mississippi above Vicksburg waiting for his people to dig canals on the mosquito infested West Bank of the Mississippi so he could move downstream and bypass Vicksburg to pursue the enemy. Vicksburg with its high bluffs and well placed guns had denied him passage for an age. While waiting he went on his famous toots (what else is a man to do under such circumstances?) The canals never got dug, but finally he and Porter ran the gauntlet and broke free into the lower river. The rest is history, as they say. Cutting himself off from supply, he brought his army down river, landed and made his famous end run which ended with the siege of Vicksburg, and final triumph. I've always had a sympathy for the South's cause, but I have a soft spot for old Grant. Among many second rate generals of the Union army, he was a man of much kindness and integrity, 'though a bucher when it came to throwing men into the fire of Lee, the marble saint of the South. A n'er-do-well until he put on a uniform and found his "place". Later, as president, he would be way out of his depth.

I'll never forget when Mom and I went to a wedding at Maine Maritime Academy at a time when I thought I had come ashore for good (Wyman Galleries days). I looked at the training ship tied up there and felt such a longing. Not to go away -- to roam -- but to once more be where I knew my place -- to not feel "in over my head." When I joined my first ship after this I distinctly remember climbing the gangway and putting my foot on the deck. The weight of the world fell from my shoulders. I was where I could do what I had been trained to do. I knew exactly what I had do and how to do it.

"Place" changes with age.

Many times a day now I look out my window from this decaying hulk and see the bend in the river (above) and sympathize with old Grant. But I feel certain that soon, soon I will make my own end run. This time there will be no looking over my shoulder or feeling under water. How I long to be home with Ma and all my extended and growing family.

Just remember: "those who truly hope have children." What was it Pacheco said, Kathy? If memory serves he quoted an old Spanish saying: "Every child comes into the world with a loaf of bread under his arm." Couldn't have said it better myself.