The Lock Keeper and the Sailor

From Stan Rogers, the great Canadian singer-songwriter:

You say, “Well-met again, Lock-keeper!
We’re laden even deeper that the time before,
Oriental oils and tea brought down from Singapore.”
As we wait for my lock to cycle
I say, “My wife has given me a son.”
“A son!” you cry, “Is that all that you’ve done?”

She wears bougainvillea blossoms.
You pluck ‘em from her hair and toss ‘em in the tide,
Sweep her in your arms and carry her inside.
Her sighs catch on your shoulder;
Her moonlit eyes grow bold and wiser through her tears
And I say, “How could you stand to leave her for a year?”

“Then come with me,” you say, “to where the Southern Cross
Rides high upon your shoulder.”
“Come with me!” you cry,
“Each day you tend this lock, you’re one day older,
While your blood grows colder.”

But that anchor chain’s a fetter
And with it you are tethered to the foam,
And I wouldn’t trade your life for one hour of home.

Sure I’m stuck here on the Seaway
While you compensate for leeway through the Trades;
And you shoot the stars to see the miles you’ve made.
And you laugh at hearts you’ve riven,
But which of these has given us more love or life:
You, your tropic maids, or me, my wife.

“Then come with me,” you say, “to where the Southern Cross
Rides high upon your shoulder.”
“Ah come with me!” you cry,
“Each day you tend this lock, you’re one day older,
While your blood grows colder.”

But that anchor chain’s a fetter
And with it you are tethered to the foam,
And I wouldn’t trade your life for one hour of home.
Ah, your anchor chain’s a fetter
And with it you are tethered to the foam,
And I wouldn’t trade your whole life for one hour of home.

It seems regardless of if I want to or not, that I’m entering into a period of forced reflection as the anniversaries of events in my life begin to accumulate impressive numbers behind them. This week in particular one came up and passed, my 25^th anniversary at the business of lock keeping.

Hang up the phone mother, Metaphor I haven’t made a career change.

I would defy anyone to pass a quarter century milestone without taking at least a moment to reflect and consider.

-       Did I make the right choices in life?

-       Am I happy where I am?

-       What could have been?

I know, for the regular readers this is getting a bit tiresome, the verbose fat man is pontificating on life again and frankly, it’s a bit droll. I hear ya, I’d rather read about toilet humor and dumb things my kids say, but this is important to me. Which, in this space, is uh, as they say, all that matters..

Now that I’ve weeded out the shallow readers, indulge me a bit.

The circumstances my introspective emotional rent here has to do this the above song, a Stan Rogers beauty which was also recorded by my hero Gordon Bok on one of his many folk albums with nautical bents. The song just happened to come up on my iPod this week. Coincidence? Song hasn’t come up in 3 or 4 years near as I can remember, but now on my 25^th anniversary, there it was.

I shared it with a few friends and they found expressed some concern about my mental health. Not to worry. I don’t see this is a depressing ode to lost opportunity.

I see it as a legitimate conversation between two approaches to life. A conversation that especially resonates for me because I have been a lock keeper for an awfully long time.

My Father in Law, he was clearly a sailor. Risk, travel for weeks at a time… and it’s poignant to point out that the only an only thing that he ever mentioned to me, when it came to telling me  about things he was disappointed about, was that I was safe. I was always on the seaway, and that I will never see the Southern Cross, a constellation he pursued with great vigor.

Safe.

I have three kids who are in various stages of moving on in their lives to the point where the choices they make will set them on the path of being a a sailor or lock keeper. My inclination and what I’ve found myself telling them is; “don’t be like me, get out there and change the world.”

Not without a bit of mist in my eyes to be honest.

But being Jewish and thus predisposed to turn text and ideas in my head around and around, a metaphor for the scrolls we read from, same scrolls, year after year, same words with unlimited lessons,  I realize that my advice of not being like me may not have been correct.

My Father in Law, the last few years or so especially, had the opportunity to spend a lot of time with my kids, one on one. He got to see his oldest Grandson become a scientist in a fast moving and exiting field. He saw his second grandson embrace an in interest in biotech research and, once the shock of actually going to school in Alabama wore off, was extremely proud of the man he was becoming. And he enjoyed his granddaughter, especially her artistic gifts, his office had pieces of work carefully framed and on display. And in those years he made a point of pulling me aside from time to time and telling me “you really have a great family, you’ve done a terrific job”. Which makes me a little misty now thinking about it to be honest.

But, like every one I can’t help but wonder: The grass is always greener.. A truism, which along with no good deed unpunished I have yet to see proven wrong.. but that’s a different blog.

Thinking about that stupid song-

And I wouldn’t trade your whole life for one hour of home.

I’ve had about a half dozen opportunities over the years to make a career change, go into consulting, go into pre-sales, work in the field.. all of which would get me off the seaway and onto the deck of a fast moving ship flying through the open water.

These jobs would have let me take advantage of my intellect and keep me at what I love to do best, THINK.. but all of them involved travel, more travel that I was interested in doing.

And I like what I do, the only advantage consulting would have provided might have been more money and a bigger title and maybe… working for myself. Which exactly how I always envisioned myself shooting the stars and navigating the trades. But again, self employment; not so safe.

So, I will not see the Southern Cross.

And to be honest I couldn’t stand to leave my wife for year, a day or two here and there we can talk, but to not have her there day after day, supporting and nurturing with a mere presence.. would be a dark existence.

I’d like to complain more, it’s fun and makes good bar talk, but really I’ve had the best of both worlds standing on seaway cycling ships through locks.  And when I ask myself; what has given me the my love of life, I have to say my wife.

Which is yet another G-damned anniversary on the way where I’m going to have to whip out that stupid emotional snot rag and do this all over again…

Stupid G-d damn songs.