My Father's Boat - Part I

I've been waiting to write a post about my father's boat for a long time.  You see, the Rhonda B. (possibly named after an old girlfriend) is my dad's small bass boat purchased in 1973.  The boat company/builder Ouachita (pronounced Wash-A-Taw) operated through the 1970s and was declared "out of business" in 1980.  (I found a video of the very same boat in very good condition here, complete with its signature sea-foam green color with an orange stripe at the top.  You've gotta love the 70's!)

The boat was my dad's pride and joy, and just like a best friend, it went with him everywhere.  By day, my dad worked as a distribution plant manager at Warnaco, a company that designed and sold women's underwear, sportswear, and swimwear worldwide.  (The name Warner's still exists, but the company was purchased by PVH, another American clothing company, in 2013).  By evening, my dad was a fisherman, spending his nights and weekends either fishing, repairing the boat, planning boat trips, or going to boat shows.  His passion was fishing, and he told me one day that his biggest regret was not going to college to become a forest ranger.  Truly, my dad loved nature, and I owe my own love of the great outdoors to him.

From the time I was five (maybe even younger), my dad took me out on his boat, and we would spend hours cruising around lakes (he loved fresh water the best), fishing, and sitting outside being ever present of the whistling wind, the birds calling, the occasional splash from a fish below, and the water lapping persistently against the boat.  It was magical.  My teen years toyed with my brain, convincing me that boat trips were trite and boring, but oh do I wish I could get those days back with my dad again!

In June 2007, life as I knew it changed forever.  My dad had passed away in his sleep, and since he was living alone in another state, I had to authorize the police to use forced entry, if necessary, to check on him.  My worst fears were realized.   After calling in to work, my husband and I left for an 18 hour trip to Georgia, so I could take care of everything as his only child and the executor of his estate.

The trip wasn't an easy one, but we decisively agreed that my dad's most important "valuables" were his photographs, a few letters/cards, and of course, the Rhonda B.  We brought those back home with us, and we brought my dad's ashes back home, too.  Connecticut was his true home; he was only forced to move to Georgia in the 90's to keep his job with Warnaco.

A lot happened that year after my dad's death.  We held a funeral, buried most of my dad's ashes in a cemetery with his mom, and then planned for a trip to Belgrade Lakes, Maine where we could release a few more of his ashes in his most favorite place.  One more thing happened; I found out I was pregnant with Little Lewie!  The planned trip to Belgrade Lakes, therefore, would be doubly significant.  It would be a revered time to celebrate my dad's life and legacy as well as a time to celebrate the coming of a new life.  I was eight months pregnant at the time.

Dining at the Belgrade Lakes Inn

Hubby aboard the Rhonda B.

Almost a year after my father's passing, in June 2008, Lew and I took the Rhonda B onto the open waters of Great Pond, the largest lake as part of the Belgrade Lakes region.  It was the lake my dad would visit faithfully to spend his two weeks of vacation every year, and it was the lake where I would get some of my first fishing lessons as a pre-teen and teenager.  (I have pictures somewhere.)  The trip brought back a rush of childhood memories, and yet, here I was now thirty three years-old with my husband of two years and pregnant with our first and only child.  We chose a calm evening to take the boat out, say a a few words, and then release my dad's ashes against the backdrop of a beautiful sunset.  It was the most perfect moment--one that somehow gave me peace, closure, and a reverence for the cycle of life.  It was sad and wonderful at the same time.

Holding onto my dad's few ashes.

When we returned from this most sacred trip, it was full-speed ahead.  Little Lewie was born, my husband became sick (addicted to opiates after being prescribed Oxycodone for his back surgery), and my father's beloved boat, the Rhonda B, fell into disrepair from sitting out in the elements unused.

We entered a decade of uncertainty, and while we still shared many joyous and beautiful moments as a family (especially with Little Lewie), there was a dark shadow looming.  Would my husband be able to fight his addiction?  Would he survive?  Would our marriage survive?  And...at the same time, would my dad's favorite boat ever see water again?  Would Little Lewie ever get to ride on the boat that brought me so many blissful childhood memories?  The boat, waiting patiently in the driveway and in storage for this decade to pass, became a symbol, and my answer would come this year...