Thanks for Bringing the Room Down

I'm afraid this isn't going to be my normal happy-go-lucky posting.

This morning my brother and sister, Justin and Andrea Redewill, and I left our Mother's ashes in the Pacific Ocean.

Joyce Carol died in December, 2001. Since then her ashes have been in my closet. A burial-at-sea always seemed like a fitting tribute for her. But the finality of it all was scary and it was easy to simply procrastinate on disposing of the ashes.

Joyce would have turned 60 last Friday, October 7. Andrea, who lives in San Francisco, was going to be in town this weekend for the UCLA vs. Cal football game -- so when we discussed it last Christmas, it made sense for today to be the day to deal with the ashes.

Fortunately, it turned out to be a glorious day weatherwise. Bright blue skies, mid-70s temperature.

We set sail from the Redondo Beach Harbor aboard a boat named, "Tribute," under the steady hand of Captain Art Windsor.

We went out about 2 miles past the breakwater into the Santa Monica Bay. Mom's ashes had been placed in a basket with carnation flowers and rose petals on top.

Once the boat had stopped in the water, Capt. Windsor read a very beautiful and spiritual Hopi Indian poem and then this poem by Lord Alfred Tennyson called "Crossing the Bar" which refers to a ship leaving a safe harbor and crossing the treacherous sand bar into the open sea.

SUNSET and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness or farewell,
When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.

Capt. Windsor then lowered the basket over the back of the boat and pulled a cord attached to its bottom to turn it upside down under the waterline.

We could see the ashes as they sank down and the flowers rose to the surface, marking the spot.

In the near distance we could see the beautiful hills of Palos Verdes Peninsula.

Capt. Windsor circled the flowers once with the boat and then back to the harbor. As we headed back our view changed from the Peninsula to the wide open sea. As we sailed away you could see the flowers still on the surface, riding the waves.

Mother always loved the ocean. In fact Andrea told Justin and me that she can remember riding in the car and whenever Joyce caught her first glimpse of the ocean she would say, "Hello, Mama Blue."

The South Bay was an important part of her life. In 1952 our grandparents and Mother and Uncle Skip moved from Providence, Rhode Island to Wilmington -- hard on the Los Angeles Harbor. The Palos Verdes Peninsula looms over Wilmington. It's where the rich people live. I can remember trips to P.V. for shopping at Hughes Market (which seemed like a fancy excursion to me) and of course Marineland -- the poor man's Sea World of my childhood.

Mother lived in Wilmington until 1972 when she and I moved north along the Santa Monica Bay to Pacific Palisades.

So releasing her ashes in the Bay seemed very fitting.

On the way back to the Redondo Beach Harbor, Capt. Windsor pointed out a couple of bottlenose dolphins and we stopped to watch a couple dozen sea lions sunning themselves on some structures in the water near the entrance to the harbor. Critter-watching was a welcome mood changer for all.

Of course funny things happen, even at sad times. Before we left the Harbor, Andrea and I were waiting for Justin (!) and a well dressed, large family approached the boat. Capt. Windsor began to usher them onto the boat. They looked at Andrea and me -- dressed pretty casually. We looked at them -- even the six-year olds were wearing little suits.

You could see they were thinking, "Why is this Clawdiddlehopper Family on OUR boat?" I was trying to think of the right way to say, "I'm sorry for your loss, but you're not getting on OUR boat."

Just in the nick of time, Capt. Windsor realized he had confused my last name of "Green" with their last name of "Greenwald." He quickly directed them to their "much larger" boat elsewhere in the harbor. Everyone seemed very happy with that resolution.