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So My Dad Bought a Boat

This is the first of a three-part essay. We will publish the series each Thursday through its completion.

So my Dad bought a boat. Big deal, right? I mean, this is the Eastern Shore of Maryland. A lot of dads have bought a lot of boats. My Dad has, like four or five times. But this time it was different. This time it has done something else. It meant something else. He didn’t just buy a boat.

“So you wanna go to the boat show in Ocean City with me?” My dad called to ask.
This was four or five years ago. He was wanting a new boat. One he could take my mother out on. Something they could do together. Several years before, back in ’95, my mother was involved in a terrible car accident. She nearly died. Though, ironically, that accident may have saved her as well.

It’s funny how things like that work, the worst tragedies are the very things that can bring us the best or make us the best or better than we were. Anyway, she was left with several debilitating issues, walking is not easy, and my father wanted a boat that would be more accessible for her. He was pretty Hell bent on a pontoon boat.

So, I said “yes” and we went. We went to the Ocean City Boat Show. We walked around the Convention Center. We got on boats. We got off boats. We walked through boats. We sat in the little chairs and thought about what it would be like to be on that boat. On the water, as opposed to the Ocean City Convention Center show room. We looked at boats we would never own. He would never own. In fact, I mean that literally. He didn’t buy one. A boat. Not that day.

We talked about it over a burger and beer later. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t think my mother was ready. Mostly he didn’t think she was ready. Mostly I didn’t think he was. When we got back to the house, my mother was surprised that we did not have a boat.

He gave up on the Ocean City Boat Show. And the next few years were spent going to the Kent Island Boat Show. Bigger boats! Yachts even! He went once with my mother, once by himself, and twice with my husband, Mike. Yes, that makes four times. Four times he went. Three times he came back with no boat. Well, four times really. He had to go pick the boat up somewhere in Delaware a few weeks later once he decided to buy.

We had a boat when I was very young. A small boat. I vaguely remember it. I think I remember standing in it once, my dad was there, and I remember fish. I also remember the boat sinking. I can recall standing in the boat while it had lots of water in it. It was brown. Brown and white. The boat, not the water. I think the brown was wood. Like I said, it is a vague memory.
And now that I’ve talked to my Dad I can, with more authority, tell you about it. It was an inboard, 23 foot Luhr’s Offshore Fisher. He never named it, he never got the chance. It sunk. It had a white hull. (I got that part right.) It was made of wood. And he had stained all of the trim work a deeper darker color. (So there is the brown I was talking about.) I did learn that I wasn’t, however, actually in the boat when it sank. There was a storm. The boat was tied to the dock, and the waves beat at the boat mercilessly shoving it against said dock over and over and over again. The dock won and the boat sank. My Dad said it was possible I was there watching him bail it out with a five gallon bucket. I’m certain I was there, just as certain that my education in colorful language began there. Eventually some kind folks from the marina came, pumped out the boat, and towed it to the marina. That was the end of the no named Luhr’s Offshore Fisher.

So he called me, my Dad. He was quite excited, and extremely nervous. He had found the one. He had all of the brochures, he had all of the information, and he had made the deal. My mother and I were out having lunch . Mike and my Dad were at the boat show. “Is it coming home tonight?” My mother or I asked. “No, No.” He said. “They have to build it. It gets built in Delaware.” “How much was it?” My mother asked. “Enough.” Was a potential answer. I can assure you of this, he never really said. But he did it, he ordered his boat. My mother ordered another glass of wine.

A native of Florida and resident of Maryland’s Eastern Shore, Andrew Heller has also lived in Mississippi, Virginia, Massachusetts, New York, New Jersey, Tennessee, and the Virgin Islands. He once went to Alaska without telling his parents, his mother still reminds him. He has relished in the opportunities and experiences and relationships he has had the fortune to enjoy while living in these different places, surrounded by a variety of cultures and marvelous people. Andrew loves life, and loves the journey that life has to offer, complete with ups and downs and twists and turns. Sometimes it is hard, and down-right scary, but there is always an adventure and a something to carry forward to the next! Andrew is the author of the young adult/new adult Samuel Smythe Adventure Series, several plays and adaptations, and a book of poetry. His writing and humor has been influenced by Giradoux, Anouilh, Brecht, Parnell, Gory, Albee, his grandmothers, and his son. Andrew is a father, husband, brother, son, friend, pet lover, reader, author, playwright, director, stage manager, educator, children’s theatre artist, story teller, special needs advocate, equality advocate, cook, landscaper, pond builder, beach goer, swimmer, dancer, 80’s and 90’s music lover, loud awful singer, pinochle player, nature lover, and someone who loves his family, both relative and extended, very very much!

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  1. Ok Andrew, I just bought a boat (canoe with an ego problem really) and I love it. I have yet to name it. Feels too small to name. If I did try to name it, I’d only be worth three letters, like “pup”, or “tug” or “Haa” but other boaters. Still I love it. Your two remaining segments better not jinx my “Haa”. It’ll be no laughing matter


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