Memories

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 on 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 stacks of envelopes – dad included. In return, mom got her share of letter to read in dad’s absence.

When dad’s ship was docked in Gibraltar, he wanted very much to bring home a memento 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 the front of it. Mom loved it.

His next leave would be back in New York in February of 1944. Mom scrambled to finalize all 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 his signature.

Jokingly she said, “If you give me my gift, I’ll give you yours.” Dad handed her the rock and she handed him the form requesting a license to marry. 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, mom and dad stood before the priest, their guests sat in the local church, and they pledged their vows. The following day, Day Three, dad was back on the US Dobler heading out to the Pacific. Mom was given the task of finding an apartment. (Why she didn’t live with either set of parents is another story completely and not really worth telling.)

After the war ended and their kids grown, mom and dad planned a few vacations. Their finances weren’t great so they’d go where they could afford. Mom would always pick a rock to bring home. In pencil, she’d write the place and date on the front. Unfortunately, just before dad retired, he had a massive stroke. 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 magnets.

As my parents ages, cancer took dad and mom lived another twenty years. I inherited her magnets and her rock and now, I continue her tradition.

Mom’s magnets include vacations to Maryland, Virginia Beach, Washington DC, Philadelphia, and Niagara Falls. Her rocks are somewhat more limited but include dad’s Gibraltar rock, several from various places on Long Island NY, upstate NY, New Jersey and of course, Florida when she came to visit us. They ae scattered throughout my home.

I’ve added to her collection by vacationing in Mexico and Alaska, plus a few other places on Long Island. I also took a small rock from my daughter’s home in Connecticut.

There are a few rocks I’ve placed in plastic bags with a small handwritten note stating where I found them. I’ll be washing them within the week and once dried, using a permanent marker, I’ll label them to show where I found them.

I know I can never retrace mom’s steps to replace her magnets with stones, and neither can I visit the places she’d gone with dad before he died to try and grab a memory she might have made.

The only thing I can do is keep her tradition going. I think she’d like that.