Fleet Week 2012 ~ May 26, 2012 ~ Brooklyn

     It's Tuesday and it's back to the old grindstone, after a long Memorial Day weekend.  I thought it apropos to discuss with my three children the sacrifices that American soldiers have made for us to enjoy the freedoms we often take for granted, and tried to say it in terms they could understand, especially my eight-year-old twins.

     In my usual, here's-a-lecture-that-I-hope-will-stick-with-you-after-I'm-long-gone voice, I explained that it is hard work that soldiers endure for our freedoms in our beloved United States. They put their lives on the line every day for us, that Memorial Day is not about hot dogs and hamburgers and a day off from school, that it's about remembering veterans who lost their lives for us Americans, leaving behind their children, parents, husbands, wives, and pets. 

     I reminded them that soldiers are oftentimes very uncomfortable, withstanding harsh weather conditions, putting their lives in danger to fight for our country, all the while being separated from their friends, family, and comforts of home for long periods of time.  And to illustrate the rigors of being in the military, I took advantage of "Fleet Week 2012" and brought them into Brooklyn to see firsthand the tall ships and military vessels docked there.

    

     I really dreaded the long lines that awaited us to get onto the ships, but thankfully, after a smooth drive into Brooklyn from Staten Island, they weren't that long at all.  It was a bright, beautiful Saturday and we literally skipped with delight along the Brooklyn shipyard path that led us to the enormous ships. As we got closer and closer, we marvelled at the beauty of all the tall ships docked there. The first ones we walked by were two French ships. Visitors were not allowed on those, as far as I could see, so we pressed on.

     We arrived at a most beautiful ship from Mexico. I snapped photos continuously, amazed at all the ropes and rigging (or whatever you call them) and the stretches of wooden decks and nautical-type apparatus.  We were immediately recruited by a handsome, young sailor who asked us if we had any questions, and before we could answer, he ordered us to follow him for a private tour. I looked around. Everyone seemed to be milling about aimlessly, sans tour guides, so I took advantage of his kind offer and said okay to the young man, kids and husband in tow.

     He said there were 260 sailors on board, including all the midshipmen, officers and crew, that he was in the third of his five-year career in the Mexican Naval Academy at the moment.  He pointed out all the different ropes and dials to my three children, which I loved, leaning down to show them with such kindness and patience, sweat glistening on his brow, but smiling all the while at their comments and questions.  He said that all the ropes had special functions, and that his superiors expected him and all the students to know what they are used for and to use them properly.

     He then led us to the middle of the ship, where he showed the girls the rolled up sails and how he and his classmates must do certain things to them to navigate the direction of the ship when the seas get rough. He described the private quarters where they ate, slept and studied down below, that they were trained to sail with only the moon and stars as their guides and the sails in their hands. No GPS, no motors, no luxury. There were machine guns on this ships to defend them from pirates in the open seas, there were rope ladders that led up to the top of the mast.

     One of my daughters asked if there had ever been any accidents or deaths along the way, and he said there have been, occasionally, not specifying which or both.  So one must be very careful when working on the ship, he said.  It was his first time in the United States, and from New York City, he sails away today, heading to Norfolk, Virginia, and then to Baltimore, Maryland.  From there, he will be flown back to Mexico to finish his studies in the academy.

     When my daughter asked him if he missed his family, he said yes, of course he did, but being on the ship for one month is not that bad, compared to some other times when he is on a ship for nine months straight. Our handsome young sailor tour guide  was so patient with all the questions from the children, so professional and dignified. His parents must be so proud of him, I thought.

     He showed us around a little longer, but after about 45 minutes the kids claimed to be dehydrated and were visibly cranky (there was hardly any shade on this boat, with all the sails down).  He asked me what points of interest he should see on his day off the following day and I recommended the 9/11 Memorial and Freedom Tower, Times Square, and the Empire State Building. We all bid each other adieu and I included him in my prayers this morning for his safe journey back home.