Passing The Torch

Every year around this time, Dad and I bring out the floating dock. It sits dormant all winter in the marsh grass up near the yard, lovingly hosting a variety of critters on it's plastic topside. Once the weather stays warm for a few consecutive weeks, we find a good high tide, and then it's time to wrangle that floating blob into its summer position. Dad ties a rope to one end and pulls the thing the length of the dock. I ride on the plastic cubes pushing it away from the dock as it inevitably drifts back underneath. The pulling is a tough job and sometimes Dad just ties it to the lawn mower and hauls it. This is a frightening and possibly foolish endeavor though, because the mower is exactly as wide as the dock. If the steering wheel turns even slightly, you're going over. 

At the end of the dock, I hug the pilings and push my feet to spin it into position, then we tie it off to be safe. The best part of installing the floating dock is that we lose tools every year. They jump right out of our hands into the dark salty brine, never to be seen again - unless we come back at low tide and fish things out of the mud. Pops and I usually have a giggly outlook about this task because something always goes awry. We've lost screws, wrenches, washers and lots of patience. One of the hardest parts should be the easiest; placing the connections over the top of the pilings. It's only hard because we can't reach. A few times Dad has climbed a ladder as it bounced and dropped along with the wake; the disaster and the laughter just waiting for its moment. 

Then we lay on our bellies and fight the metal and wood into submission. I look forward to this annual debacle with Dad. Once Brett came on the scene, we started using him to place the connections over the pilings, because he can just stand there and do it. Then he started holding ropes for us, and then he took over my job completely. Initially I objected to this. It's my special annual Dad drama! I like knowing how to do things and use tools and be handy. I didn't want to marry a fella and stop mowing the lawn or fixing broken widow latches, etc. I don't need no man! 

But the surprise ending to this tale is that I love watching Dad and Brett work together even more than being the reason Dad loses another wrench. I can't decide why it's so heartwarming. Maybe it's the acceptance of each other or Brett's readiness to help my beloved Papa or Dad's knowledge being passed to by beloved bubba. They grunted and laughed as they failed to push the screws into place. "So close! So close!" They complimented each others brilliant suggestions. "Oh yeah! That'll do it!" and occasionally barked at me. "Lue! Screwdriver! Hurry!" This year, right at the end, on the last turn of the wrench, Brett lost his first tool to the mighty depths. "Noooo!!!" he shouted while Dad paddled the water hoping to catch it. "But I was done! It just jumped out of my hand!" Dad laughed at him and smacked him on the back. 
"Oh I've dropped that one a few times. I'll find it."

They packed up all the ropes and tools and made their way back down the dock towards the yard. Another "successful" install. 

I realize this will be my job again one day when Pops is so ancient and decrepit that he can't make it out to the end of the dock anymore. Then it'll just be the Big Guy and me, fighting the tide the way Old Man Union taught us to. His lumbering legacy will live on. 

I got years of memories sprawled out on that dock laughing at my old man. I'm happy for Brett to collect as many of those as he can.