Usually, when there is a light topic in this space, it is written by my wife, Patricia. This time, I’m going to take a stab at it.
In 1964, during my last year of high school, our German teacher attempted to organize a class trip to Germany, her home. Initially, most of the class expressed interest, but as plans were being worked out, the whole trip fell apart. I had my heart set on going and was determined to make the journey – even if I had to go alone. And that’s exactly what happened.
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For a 17-year-old from New Mexico, the idea of crossing the
Atlantic alone felt as daunting as a trip to Mars.
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I went to a local travel agent and booked passage to Europe on the SS United States. My mother did everything in her power to dissuade me, but my mind was made up. I had butterflies in my stomach, but I couldn’t admit that to her.
That summer, my parents drove me to New York City to catch the ship. It was a special time there because of the World’s Fair. After spending a couple of days at the fair, they took me to the dock.
For a callow 17-year-old who had grown up in New Mexico and hadn’t seen much of the world, the journey felt daunting. Here I was, all on my own, heading off to a place that seemed as remote to my young mind as Mars. The trip went well—except for the seasickness during the first couple of days and the French-language menu, which I couldn’t read. It wouldn’t have mattered, as none of that food was served in New Mexico anyway.
One evening, I decided to go as high on the ship as I could. Standing between the two stacks, I was caught off guard when the foghorn blew so loudly that I’m surprised I wasn’t blown into the sea.
Years later, as a young husband and father, we moved to Wildwood, where I became the publisher of The Wildwood Leader and Cape May County Gazette. Whenever we drove over the Walt Whitman Bridge into Philadelphia, I would see that very ship docked off to the right. I didn’t know why it was there, but each time I saw it, memories of my boyhood trip came rushing back.
Only recently did I learn how special that ship was. The SS United States was designed to cross the Atlantic in record time and was built with a dual purpose—as a luxury liner that could double as a troop carrier in wartime. Because of its significance, tens of millions of dollars were spent attempting to preserve it, to no avail, and the decision was made to scuttle it. Before that could happen, it had to be moved to Mobile, Alabama, to be made environmentally safe for its new home at the bottom of the sea off Florida.
By chance, our son Benjamin and his family were crossing the Delaware Memorial Bridge as the ship was being towed to Alabama. And coincidentally, my wife and I were in Mobile the other day when the ship appeared once again. We went to the dock where it was tied up, and my wife snapped this picture of me.
Standing next to the massive ship, I reflected on the first time I had stood beside it in New York Harbor more than 60 years ago. It felt like stepping into a time capsule – one moment, I was in New York, a wide-eyed 17-year-old, and the next, I was in Mobile, a 78-year-old bidding this beauty a fond farewell.
Quotes From the Bible
“The Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.” — Psalm 121:8
