Sea Log - Day One - Jan. 7th, 2002 (Monday)

Woke up this morning to the sight of SNOW!!  I can't believe it.  We've barely had snow all season, just a frosting at Christmas and here on the day when I must fly across the country with five students, Ohio has its first major snow storm of the year.

I went outside with just my black dress shoes, skidded about and returned to my home to reappear in heavy duty boots.  Not a big problem now, but what am I going to do with these in Florida I can't imagine.  Because of the 9/11 tragedy we made a point of getting away from campus early and arriving at Columbus' airport two hours ahead.  This will be our standing plan all through this trip.

I have not flown since the attack on the Twin Towers, and so the all the extra examinations were new to me.  I got myself flagged over and they had to go through my backpack.  It was only after I had stood there for a moment, without my boots which were being checked, that I remembered the little gift my wife had packed for my father since I will be staying with my parents

Dad had better appreciate that fruitcake.  Of course, most of my students got through without a hitch--except for one:

"Medical bracelet, rivets on my jeans, necklaces on so on: I just had no idea how much metal I had on me!"  Poor girl; she had to put herself together after we boarded the plane.

Elayna Vanscoy, by the by, has the interesting role of being the only women in this group. There won't be any difficulty in keeping her privacy.  I trust her and the all the guys.  However the situation does place her in an rather strange situation--especially she's by nature very serious.  She confided in me once:  "I sometimes feel like Wendy with the `Lost Boys!' 

Who are the "Lost Boys?"  Beside me, Dr. Anderson Rearick, the rest of the crew were as follows:

David Baker Jeremy Showers Michael Jones  Stephen Smith

Flight was uneventful and we arrived in Boston where Anderson M. Rearick Jr. (My dad and the recipient of said fruitcake) was waiting for us in the Bethel Church of the Nazarene van.

We arrived at Eastern Nazarene College at around 3:00 and were shown our quarters by Douglas Peck director of Conference services.

Mr. Peck gave us a tour of the campus but one place was of special note.  In ENC's Nease Library there is a room set aside for faculty study especially dedicated to the memory of Dan Gresham. When one walks into the room there are the first few lines of John Masefield's poem "Sea Fever."

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,

And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,

And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.

I knew about the room because I was one of Dan's students.  In fact it was back in 1977 that I myself went on a sea literature class because of his influence.  Bringing the group in I said:

I want you to look upon this man's face.  He looks a lot like Walt Whitman which I told him once.  But Dan replied "No, no.  Walt Whitman looked like ME!"  That was pure Dan.  He celebrated the nature of the individual and loved what the individual might find in nature.  Every class I had with him somehow ended up including Thoreau and Walden.  He also loved the sea.

When he taught me here at ENC he actually lived on board his boat in Boston Harbor and came to class in his foul weather gear (especially in January).  He taught me American Lit, Creative Writing and Sea Literature.  He was the primary reason I, as a student, went to sea myself in the seventies.  That experience brought me face to face with the endless, awesome, magnificence of the sea and with my own intellectual and physical limitations.  Of course I learned how small I was in God's creation.  

Yet I also saw how beautiful it all was.  Knowing both the grandeur of the ocean and my inability to completely and therefore accurately portray it in text, changed my life.  I have continued to strive in my craft both as a reader and as a writer to experience the sea in art.  He gave to me a challenge which I hope in part to give to some of you.  Thus, he is part of the reason I am who I am, as well as why you are all here this year. 

That night we had the whole group over at my parents home for dinner.  Everyone was hungry since flights have stopped serving lunches ("Just eat your mixed snack, drink you soda and be THANKFUL!"). So we had no lunch. Poor David was starving.  At my parents, I came out into the living room to check on the group and found him on the couch, bent over--he was that hungry.

With blowing steam and heavy aroma, the spaghetti and sauce was ready and we all sat down.  Mom and Dad were amazed although I don't understand why--they had four children of their own, and none of us were light eaters.  At one point Mom, while in the kitchen,  turned to my father said  "Well, at least I think they're slowing down." "What slowing down?" replied my dad.  "They've just run out of pasta!  Here, help me get another box boiled up!"  I guess they've been living the "un-childrened" couple life for too long.  By the by, my parents live right on the bay.  Below is a sketch I did over the first weekend we were in Boston:

Finally we got the group's luggage stowed and secure.  The men were on the fifth floor of the married student dorm while Elayna had a room to herself on the fourth floor being used by female students.