Saturday, August 18, 2018

Our Better Angels

It doesn't happen often, but every now and again, I get forced to be serious for a minute about something other than doing my job.

     A former shipmate of mine passed away the other day. It was not a surprise. He had had a stroke on board a manned barge a few years ago, and never really recovered. He was in his 40's, and obese. One of us, though. Part of the gang of us that hung out when we were all rafted up out in anchorages and occasionally had dinners together. He and I weren't close, but cordial, as in we'd sometimes stop by if we were at the same dock and talk for 10 minutes or so, catch up a little.
      It was he who took care of me when I got a particularly nasty case of food poisoning, and my company couldn't be bothered to send me a relief so I could go ashore. I was always so grateful for that. A simple act but supremely kind.

I'm coming up on my relief date here, in a few days. Sadly, I'm staying. But it's progress. Week 4 is almost done. 6 weeks to go. Ugh.  Well, the money will be nice.

1 comment:

Rob said...

Trading your time for money.... I had to get older to realize the true value of my time.
Your former ship mate doesn't have any more time to trade.