He is Canadian! Turning Compassion into Action on the High Seas

A few months ago, my son and I were lucky enough to accompany my mother and father on a wonderful adventure to the Spanish islands of Mallorca and Menorca. My father is a sailor and he also frequently acts out much of what this archetype includes. He is a hard working and driven man, a great adventurer and natural leader. He loves nothing more than to share and participate in spinning wild tales of who he has met, where he has been, and what he had learned. In fact, after the death of Senator Ted Kennedy, I learned that my father even had a sailing encounter with him that was included in the vast array of sea stories.

My dad is also easily frustrated, quick to anger, and a frequent employer of colorful profanity as a primary means of communicating displeasure. This, coupled with a sailors thirst for the next round of drinks to accompany the next round of stories means that he can be the most fun or the most dreaded person to spend extended amounts of time with. He is often courageous and sometimes courteous, and I was lucky enough to watch a scene play out that encompassed both.

After a day of sailing we arrived in a lovely little cove area off the coast of Menorca. We were a couple days late arriving to this spot because a freak wind storm had come up while we were in Fornells and dad decided not to chance the weather. With my very limited sailing experience, it was difficult for me to be of much help when things needed to get done. Eventually I learned which rope to pull, how to tail, cleat, and what to expect when we needed to anchor.

I learned that it was mom's job to be at the helm while dad dropped anchor and shouted direction to her (into the wind) about when to cut the motor or put it in reverse. I learned that while the anchor was being set, my poor mom would get completely frustrated and resort to stressed out body movement and terse verbal responses while my dad, growing increasingly impatient at her inability to understand what he was shouting, would shout even louder and trade profanity for extreme sarcasm and the familiar "dad tone" designed to make the listener feel like a complete idiot.

I also learned that the best thing that I could do to relax the captain, and settle the storm of emotions was to quickly get myself down to the galley and return with cold beer and iced tea for everyone. This beverage run had become an established tradition before I came on board, and it was my job to make sure that tradition went smoothly uninterrupted.

It was quite a hot day and my son and my dad were anxious to get moving and explore the beach area. They hopped in the dingy and away they went. Mom and I kicked back in our bathing suits with our drinks and some girl- time peace and quiet. Not five minutes after they took off we saw the small tender to our boat returning. Dad hopped back on the boat and briefly explained on his way to find our second anchor that they had bumped into a boat desperately in need of assistance.

A French sail boat had been caught in the wind storm we had managed to avoid a few nights earlier, and the lone sailor had been stranded for three days without any help. On order of the captain, my son and I hopped back into the dingy along with the anchor and accompanied my father on what would become an 8 hour rescue mission...and one of the most bizarre days any of us had ever experienced.

When we arrived at the scene, I could see that the boat was tipped over to one side. The keel had been ground down into the sand and the mast hung at a precarious angle sadly supporting the Spanish colors. Two British men met us as we came closer with the anchor and explained that the plan was to completely tip the boat on the side, using our anchor to secure the mast, thereby freeing the keel from the sand, and pushing it off the sandbar.

Sounded like a reasonable enough plan, with one problem....although the beach with crowded with people, only these two British men....and one topless French woman...seemed interested in working together to save the boat. While the British men chatted with us about the circumstances, a lone petite French woman was putting her back into the task of pushing the boat. The people on the beach looked amused but no one made moves to help her.

Here is when dad decided that this operation was not going well at all, and these people were going to need far more than his second anchor to get anything accomplished. Perhaps the only thing that bothers my dad more than inaction and indecision, are behaviors he views as lazy, self centered and impractical...in short, dad doesn't do well with, "Jackasses that don't do anything." Anyone that knows my dad understands this particular situation was one he could not walk away from, and he took it upon himself to rally the people on the beach to come and help.

My son and I joined the topless French woman in working to free the keel from the sand while the mast was hoisted even further over to one side. We didn't speak much French, and she didn't speak English, but our goal was the same and we started to have fun. Our grunts and multi lingual shouts of encouragement to each other were soon joined by other languages and voices of young men and women that left their place on the beach to stand shoulder to shoulder with us.

My father did the best he could to communicate with the Captain of the boat through the British men that were translating. All the while, more and more people, speaking Spanish and French arrived to see what was going on and respond to orders made by the English speaking guy wearing the "I am Canadian" t-shirt.

The scene that played out was unforgettable. The beach that we were at happened to be clothing optional....I had forgotten to mention this part of Europe to my 11 year old boy that saw more naked people over the next few hours than he'll probably ever see again over the course of his adult life.

At one point, after an hour of pushing we took a break and let the crowd that had grown from one little French woman to about 100 naked and happy vacationers continue on while we checked on our dingy and made sure it was secure on the shore. He and I took a moment to watch how the scene had changed since our arrival.

In the midst of all these naked people shouting and working together to move the boat...there was dad, and he wasn't yelling. He was listening to other potential ideas and making decisions about which plans to try out next. I looked at my son and said, "Is this about the strangest thing you've ever seen?". His eyes met mine and he smiled as he coughed out a nervous little laugh, "Uhhhhhh......Yes!"

While people worked together to free the boat, the captain sat on board and refused to allow the crowd to push his boat through the only safe channel. He did not seem to understand that the plan he wanted was sure to cause more damage to his boat as it would slide over rocks that were blocking his chosen path. He shouted in French at my father and the people translating from French to English were at a loss. This was his boat, yet he wanted to engage in a plan that seemed to me and to them to be ridiculous. He was annoyed by our efforts, completely ungrateful and rude. One did not need to speak perfect French to interpret that he was spouting off the same kind of sarcasm and "dad tone" I have grown to tolerate from my own father, but utterly refuse to take from anyone else.

Over 8 hours and through several different plans, I saw moments that I thought sure dad was going to lose it as he swore in frustration at the Spanish speakers that couldn't understand what he was trying to tell them. I also saw moments that surprised me as I watched at how much he was willing to listen, and how undeterred he seemed to be with the behavior of the cranky old captain. I knew that if I had been in his place, working so hard and putting forth so much effort to help someone out, I would not have stood to have someone react to me the way the French Captain was responding to my father. I knew I would have left him to figure his own way out...no questions asked.

To make a long story short, the boat was not rescued by our efforts. We tried many different ideas but it was just wedged too far into the sand for us to get it out. Before dad came back to our boat, he went to the Captain and invited him back to our boat for dinner and a night over. I was not excited at the prospect of entertaining an old cranky Frenchman who spoke no English, but dad seemed happy with the prospect of having a new guest spend the night.

The man did come back for a night over and a meal. Thankfully, through bits of French remembered from classes forced on all Canadian citizens, and my Spanish translation book we managed to learn this man was 74. He was sailing alone for the first time since the death of his wife, and he had been injured when the boat ran aground. To top it off, he had not slept in the 3 days he had been stranded. No wonder he was cranky!

There was no way for dad to have known these things initially, but somehow he was able to understand the man in a different way than I could while he was yelling at people from the deck. Maybe dad could connect to his sense of frustration and the embarrassment he must have felt about the situation. Maybe he was able to feel out the man for who he really was without really having to speak to him much.

Once I heard the story I got it, but this was certainly not a man that I was able to "connect" to, or want to connect to for that matter. For me, story was the connector that turned my heart. For dad, it was the man. No words were needed.

This experience taught me a lot about myself and where I was as a human being. I needed to be more open to connection and more forgiving toward those that lashed out in pain and frustration. What I learned about the captain after he climbed on board reminded me of that.

I have no doubt that our French friend will always remember the Canadian guy and his family. I also have no doubt that dad will remember the Poire William Brandy that came with the man to dinner.

As for me, I will try to remember to assume that the next grouchy person I meet might actually be a fantastic person just having a really bad day.