Going Places

Going Places

Rocky Road?

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It all began back in 1943 when dad and the rest of the Navy crew on the US Dobler had a weekend leave. They were docked at the southern tip of the Iberian Peninsula – in other words, they were visiting Gibraltar.

Dad and mom had just gotten engaged and while mail was slow in reaching the ship, they still wrote every day. When the mail sack was delivered, it wasn’t unusual for every sailor to get a stack of envelopes – dad included. In return, mom got her share of letters to read in dad’s absence.

When dad’s ship was docked in Gibraltar, he wanted very much to bring home a souvenir for his soon-to-be wife, but being on a US Naval ship, depending on the size of the item, unless they could smuggle them onboard, the items were severely restricted.

Dad looked around and at first found nothing he thought suitable for the woman he loved. They were only to spend three days on Gibraltar and dad’s time was running out. In a matter of desperation, Dad grabbed the first thing he saw. He was going to bring his Mary a rock!

A rock? Yes, you read that right. He found it on the shore, brought it back to the ship, scrubbed it clean, and before he brought it home, he carved, “Gibraltar 1943” on what he decided the front of it should be. Mom loved it.

His next leave would be back in New York in February of 1944. Mom scrambled to finalize her plans. When dad arrived back in Brooklyn, she told him they had an appointment. Dad was a bit bewildered until his Mary handed him a piece of paper that required a signature.

Jokingly she said, “If you give my gift, I’ll give you yours.” Dad handed her the rock, and she handed him the form requesting a license to marry.

Dad laughed. Well, you know that old game. “Paper covers rock!” He eagerly signed it and they both went to city hall to hand it to the clerk. Dad asked mom, “So, now what? How long do we have to wait?”

That was Day One of his shore leave.

Day Two had mom ad dad standing before the priest. Their guests sat I the local church, ad they pledged their vows.

Day Three, dad wearing his new gold wedding band was back on the US Dobler heading to the Pacific arena.

Mom was given the task of finding an apartment. (Why she didn’t live either set of parents is another story completely and not worth telling.)

After the war ended, with their kids brown, mom and dad planned a few vacations.

Their finances weren’t great so they’d go where they could afford. Rather than buy a souvenir she couldn’t afford, mom would always pick a rock to bring home. In pencil, she’d write the place and date on what she determined the front should be.

Unfortunately, just before dad retired at the age of 64, he had a massive stroke. Their vacations were now limited to places nearby. Since dad’s walking became a problem, long walks were replaced by short visits to the local gift shops. Mom’s rock collecting became a collection of refrigerator magnets – and an occasional rock should she find one.

As my parents aged, cancer took dad and mom lived another twenty years – the last five of them was spent with me. I would take mom to a local park or the beach where she could walk around and maybe even collect a few more rocks.

Yet, mom’s magnet collection grew. They included visits to Maryland, Virginia Beach, Washington DC, Philadelphia, and Niagara Falls. Even though her rock collection was somewhat limited, she held dearly onto her Gibraltar rock.

Now that mom’s gone, I inherited her rock collection and her love of collecting them. They’re kept on a cream-colored plate in the bedroom where mom had slept during the last years of her life.

Through the years, I’ve added a few of my own to her collection.

I wish I could retrace mom’s steps and replace her magnets with rocks but, I know how impossible that is. Neither can I visit the places she’d gone with dad before he died to try and grab a memory she might have had.

The only thing I can do is keep her tradition going with rocks of my own.

I think she’d like that.