Rod Grant

When I was a child my father had a friend named Rod Grant, and we called him Uncle Rod. My mother didn't care for the way he showed up for dinner unexpectedly after years of absence, but I loved Uncle Rod. He was a pilot of small planes and took me up for a ride when I was only five years old. I still remember him doing a loop-de-loop and scaring me out of my wits!

He showed up one day in an RV with a girlfriend and her three little dogs, on his way to see more of the country. I thought that was the coolest thing, going where you wanted to go and seeing what you wanted to see. Little did I know then that I would do the same thing one day.

It was perhaps a year or two later that I found my father in a state of agitation. Rod was missing at sea, having gone for a sail off the coast of California before a squall struck. For hours my dad pored over his charts, trying to figure where Rod may have taken shelter to ride out the storm. Unfortunately his boat was recovered but Rod's body was never found.  "He tried to swim to shore," Dad told me. "That's the rule a sailor must never break. Always stay with the boat."

I've never forgotten that bit of wisdom, though sailing is not my favorite pastime. I am not sure what made me think of Rod recently; perhaps his spirit was hovering nearby.  I like to think he's with us on our journey. Rod would have enjoyed this trip.