Thursday, July 16, 2009

Pirate Hunter

After spending over 20 hours in a vehicle last week, I listened to a LOT of music, and I was reminded of how pivotal music is in many of my memories. I am an eclectic listener: oldies, Christian Contemporary, gospel, bluegrass, rock, alternative, folk, jazz, swing, as long as it moves me someplace deep inside, I like it. I was recently scolded for the type of music I choose to listen to, but I grew up in a house with lots of music. Mom and Dad had an eight-track player in our car (a 1976 Dodge Charger, blue with a black stripe, still love that car!) and we listened to Jethro Tull, KISS, Poco, Willie Nelson, and Sesame Street. I refuse to be pigeon-holed as a non-Christian for the music I listen to, and I wanted to share with my readers some of the songs that hold memories entwined with their melodies and rhythms. Consider this part one of an ongoing series.

10:30 pm April 4, 1991, Shawano, Wisconsin. I was all alone in my hospital bed. I gave birth to Doogie at 5:44 that evening. I was only 17, and my only support through the delivery was my equally clueless 20-year-old husband. My treatment of my parents during the pregnancy had seriously damaged our relationship, so they didn't come to see him after he was born. My husband's parents, brother, and sister came to see us. I was still confused from the delivery, but they swept in with oohs and awws, bringing noise and chaos with them. Shortly after ten, the nurses took Doogie with them to the nursery, so my in-laws and my husband went home. I felt completely and utterly alone and a bit frightened by the new title I had acquired: mother. I laid in bed looking out the window at the darkness and tried not to cry. Suddenly a song popped into my head, Beautiful Boy by John Lennon. When the tears came, they were tears of joy at my beautiful boy, the one I had just brought into the world. I fell asleep with the words echoing in my head: Before you go to sleep, say a little prayer. Every day in every way it's getting better and better. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy.

July 7, 1993 Doug and I had just brought Molly home from the hospital. I had prayed for a little girl, wanted it desperately. We had planned Molly, and it was so wonderful to go through a pregnancy without shame. She was so tiny that my mom had to search every store in Green Bay (well, she probably didn't have to search, but she was having fun) for a going home outfit that was tiny enough to fit her. She was wearing a pink dress decorated with tiny white roses and white lace with matching panties. I laid her down on the floor to change her diaper, and Doug put Paul McCartney's Mama's Little Girl on the stereo: Looking like a rag doll, Mama's little girl. Singing like a skylark, Mama's little girl. You better give me some time for this heart of mine, cause I just can't take it all in. Still I will remember Mama's little girl. The tears came down so hard, I couldn't see her to change her diaper. I lifted her into my arms and tried to sing to her. She does sing like a skylark now.

Pirate Hunter by Tom Morrisey is a wonderfully written adventure story mixed with a little faith and a lot of history. Greg Rhode is just out of college and lucky to find a job working on Phil Rackham's ship salvage operation out of Key West. His investigation of a wreck brings up gemstones that have a fascinating history that only the reader will ever know. Bold Ted was captured as a slave and then rescued by pirate Captain Henry Thatch. He signs on as a member of the Regent crew, which puts his life in danger when the Spanish go gunning for Thatch and his compatriots who stole a valuable ruby from one of their ships. The two stories move along parallel lines through manhood, falling in love, and the discovery that treasure isn't found in gold and jewels but in forgiveness and family. Morrisey gives readers just enough information about diving shipwrecks to intrigue without overwhelming them with jargon. The romances are sweet, and the adventure captivating. The two heroes are what really make this book shine. I loved this book!

This is an awful pain day. I must have tried to do too much this week. I'm going to take it easy today and tomorrow in hopes of getting laundry done this weekend!