After lunch, we headed back through Gloucester. Teague asked if I wanted to stop and see the famed Gloucester Fisherman's statue. I had driven by the statue, saw the backside of it, but had never seen the statue. A problem when you live in an area, you tend not to do a lot of tourist things.
Our first stop was the Fishermen's Wives Memorial. I didn't even know there was a statue to the women.
The base of the statue reads: The wives, mothers, daughters and sisters of Gloucester fishermen honor the wives and families of fishermen and mariners everywhere for their faith, diligence, and fortitude. The statue was installed in 1998 and you can read about how it came to be
here.
My drink reference for this post is a line from the poem, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
Water, water everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.
A schooner
Glorious Dahlias
A gull sunning himself
The schooner with full sails
Look how low the water is in the channel
We were on a draw bridge!
Boat coming down the channel
drawbridge going up
and up
This bird swallowed a fish whole!
Coming through!
A park bench by the drawbridge dedicated to the Bridgetender
Last one through
Coming down
And we could safely walk across the bridge to
The Fishermen's Memorial
On the base of the statue: They that go down to the sea in ships
The names of the men lost at sea are on the bronze plaques from the late 1600s to the present
It's funny when I'm out and about random strangers come up to me and share their life stories, sometimes very personal things. As I was photographing the "modern" side of the memorial, a young man pointed out the first name for 1943 and told me his great-grandfather was the first man lost that year. His great-grandfather was in the pilot house when a giant, rogue wave crashed over the top capsizing the boat. His great-grandfather's body was never found. Teague said the young man probably came down to the memorial every day to tell someone. Maybe. But the memorial is the only connection the young man would have to his great-grandfather. The memorial would be like visiting his great-grandfather at the cemetery.
A compass so you can always find your way.
The sign reads: Let A Prayer Be Said
We'd laugh and play all the day
between his labors at sea.
Now that's changed, my days re-arranged
He's no longer there for me.
I heard it said, what I did dread,
and feared the long nights through.
That a ship was lost at the terrible cost
of her captain and the crew.
What can I say of that tragic day?
What dirge be upon my lips?
Let a prayer be said, for the dead.
They that go down to the sea in ships.
Drop by hosts,
Bleubeard and Elizabeth's blog to find out what the rest of the T Stands For gang is up to. If you want to play, include in your Tuesday post a beverage or container for a beverage. Don't forget to link your blog to Bleubeard and Elizabeth's page.
