Waving Girl

Florence Martus, also known as “The Waving Girl” of Savannah, was a small, slender woman who was known to wear long flowing skirts and always have a Collie at her side. She lived with her brother George, the light house keeper on Elba Island, at the mouth of the Savannah River from 1886-1931. And, for all those 44 years, she greeted ships as they came and went from that busy port.

By day, she waved to the ships – and the sailors on board – with a kerchief. At night, she used a lantern. And, mariners the world-wide fell in love with her.

The imagined story was that she was engaged to be married to a seaman - much like the ones she waved so enthusiastically to – but one day he left, never to return, presumably lost at sea. Nothing could keep Miss Florence from hoping for her beloved’s return, and so she turned to waving to every ship that passed by, still wishful that someday, she might see her sailor waving back, from the deck of some ship long at sea…

And, while Miss Florence’s love, if he ever existed, didn’t come back, the thankful horn blasts from the ships passing kept that “Waving Girl” waving. And, it turns out, she did some saving, as well.

In 1893, at the age of 25, Miss Florence and her brother George reportedly braved hurricane conditions in their low, flat-bottomed row boat, to save several men from a sinking craft. Shortly after that, she and George rescued all but one of the crew of a government dredge that had caught fire and was rapidly sinking.

According to Savannah historians, George and Miss Florence George attended church regularly, and visited town once a month, for supplies, library books and mail. The mail the “Waving Girl” included letters, gifts and poetry from mariners all over the world.

In 1931, George, at the age of 70, was forced to retire from keeping the Elba Island lighthouse. This meant that the “Waving Girl” was forced to retire, too. She and George moved to town. News spread quickly about the “Waving Girl” being able to wave no more, and shortly after Miss Florence and George left their island cottage for good, she received $523 from well-wishers world-wide – a huge sum during the Great Depression.

Miss Florence continued to keep Collies, attend church regularly, read library books, and gather her mail, but those who knew her have said she never really took to life on the mainland all that well.
In 1938, some 3,000 people turned out for her 70th birthday celebration – a city-wide event that she was quoted as calling, the “grandest day” of her life. In 1943, at the age of 75, Savannah’s “Waving Girl,” died, after a short bout of pneumonia.

A 20-foot bronze statue of “The Waving Girl” was erected in Savannah’s Riverside Park in 1972, near the island where Miss Florence spent most of her life. The same artist who did the memorial of the Marines raising the flag on Iwo Jima was commissioned to the work. An anonymous donor contributed most of the $50,000 it cost to have the statue made.

And, don’t we all wish he was a lowly seaman, now wildly successful, who fell in love with the “Waving Girl” as he passed by on some ship where he served as a young deckhand back when they were both young and fair?

On my first trip to Savannah, the statue of “The Waving Girl” caught my eye, and I have loved Miss Florence’s story ever since – both the real and the made-up parts. Imagine living on a small island with your brother for years and years…the only thing breaking up your days being the passing of ships, and the appreciative toot of their horns, in response to your kerchief in the wind, or your lantern in the dark of night…Imagine rescuing sailors from sinking ships…and, always having those elegant Collies at your side…Imagine the gifts and poems and letters she must have received…

There’s just something so marvelous about a juicy, old-fashioned story like that…Now days, Miss Florence wouldn’t wave or probably even go out of the house. She would simply Twitter as ships passed by, hoping that a few of the sailors on board were her followers (or Tweeps), so they could receive her Tweets…Someday that may be the stuff of which fine stories are made, but for now, please, let me have the story, and the statue, the Collies, lanterns, light house and kerchiefs… In spite of the need to stay current, my old imagination just works better that way.

(Thank you to Erin Rossiter of the Athens Banner-Herald, for filling in the gaps in my knowledge of Miss Florence’s story in “The Long Wave,” the 5.17.09 paper.)

Glory Bound

“When I hear that trumpet sound, I will lay my burdens down…I’ll be travelin’ far from home…I’m waiting for that train to come. I know where she’s coming from. Listen can you hear her on the track? When I board I won’t be looking back…Hallelujah. ”
- from “Glory Bound,” a song by Ruth Moody

I was an EMT on an ambulance a few years back. One of the things you do a lot of on an ambulance is haul elderly people back and forth from the hospital to their home or nursing home. These trips become more frequent as a person’s health declines, and after a while, you begin to know these passengers pretty well – and, how they look health-wise.

One thing I observed is, as a person’s health begins to seriously fail, the person takes on an increasingly transparent look - as if they are slowly becoming more of a reflection of themselves than the real thing.

Much to the amusement of my paramedic colleagues, I tried to explain what I was seeing in these patients as being “like a really well-worn T-shirt – a favorite that’s been worn and washed a million times. There’s no holes in it, but the cloth has gotten really thin, almost like you can see right through it...” Many laughs generated there - but, to me the phenomenon is real. And, I still see it happening around me today.

In fact, a beloved and elderly neighbor of mine seems to become slightly more translucent every time I see her. In her case, the translucence may come as much from her rock solid faith in God, and her excitement about that faith, as it comes from failing health, as she’s actually doing better physically than she has in a long time.

The other evening I was sitting with her, chatting, enjoying the birds singing and the cool spring air. Somehow the topic turned to heaven and how her face lit up! It lit up so brightly it was almost aglow, and in that instant, her translucence became really obvious.

She began to tell me about how she hopes to see her sisters in heaven, and how much fun it’s going to be to be able to move about quickly again. We joked about her needing running shoes in heaven, because she’d have so much ground to cover…What a joy-filled conversation it was - my neighbor so sure of her next stop, and me, so uplifted by her version of what heaven would be like.

I went home that night, and sat wondering for quite awhile – out in the dark yard, stars shining brightly above – what it would be like to be that sure of where death will take you…How comforting that must be. My faith is strong, but I’m still really afraid of death, and the details of what comes next are pretty hazy in my mind…

At the hospital, in the emergency room, where I now work as a social worker, you see death relatively often. It comes in many shapes and forms, and is kinder to some than others. In a “good” death, the person is elderly and has lived a long, full life. He or she has family gathered around. They seem close to one another, and their faith is strong. Often the person who is dying knows he or she is about to pass, and often there seems to be an uncanny peace about the process.

It is not uncommon for the dying person to focus on a part of the room where no one is standing, and begin to talk to someone in the family who has already died – as if they were at the bedside along with the living. In these cases, one of the family members will explain that, “Mama’s been doing that a lot lately - talking to my brother, as if he’s still here. He’s been gone for nearly 25 years - died in a car wreck when he was young. I’m not sure why she thinks he’s here, but she sure has been talking about him a lot lately. Before now, it’s been years since she’s spoken his name.”

Sometimes it’s a parent, or a spouse, or a sibling the dying person sees and begins to talk with. Occasionally, it’s just a “beautiful angel, surrounded by light”… According to the scientists, when a person is very sick, or about to die, their blood and brain chemistry changes, and they hallucinate. There are no long lost relatives in the room, no angels – only messed up potassium levels and such…

That may be, but I prefer my version, where a person on their way from this world to the next begins to make a transition…and a little while later, loved ones who have already made the trip show up to guide them…I sincerely hope my neighbor has a good many years left on this earth, but it makes me less sad to think of her going, whenever that occurs, knowing that she will be greeted by her sisters, who will be holding running shoes for her to don, once she passes those pearly gates…or boards that train…or simply fades away in a cloud of comfortable, old T-shirt-like translucence.

Cardinals

“Say it’s only a paper moon sailing over a cardboard sea, but it wouldn’t be make believe if you believed in me…” from Paper Moon, by Harold Arlen, E. Y. Harburg and Billy Rose

There is a pair of cardinals raising two babies in a nest right outside my kitchen window. First the mama built the nest, then she sat on her little eggs for the 12-13 days cardinal eggs take to hatch. During that time we rarely saw the dad, as he is much more skittish than she about the humans gawking from the other side of the glass.

The babies hatched three days ago, and the couple has been busy feeding them since. According to my Google search, the babies will be fed primarily by Dad until they leave the nest, 9-11 days after hatching. Mom, it seems, will be busy building nest #2 during this time, as cardinals attempt two broods during each mating season.

Google also said both parents can feed their young until the babies leave the nest, then Mama will go off and build a new nest for their next family. Our cardinal couple seems to be following that model, as the mama still spends a lot of time in the nest with the babies while dad flits in and out feeding them.

Cardinals mate for life and I like that idea. It makes this little couple’s efforts seem even friendlier and more heartwarming. It’s nice to imagine them, building nests and feeding babies together for years to come.

Other animals that mate for life include: gibbon apes, wolves, coyotes, barn owls, beavers, bald eagles, golden eagles, condors, swans, cranes, angel fish, pigeons, red-tailed hawks, anglerfish, ospreys, prairie voles, black vultures and termites.

Contrary to common lore (which seems to have originated with the “Friends” episode, in which Phoebe says Ross is Rachel's "lobster"), lobsters do not mate for life. They have a tender mating ritual, but the male also mates with almost every other female in the area. So much for lobsters and true love…

Right now Mr. Clark is packing my lunch for my 12-hour hospital work day tomorrow – the human equivalent, I guess, of what Mr. Cardinal has been doing for the past few days…

Marriage is a strange thing, in that it just keeps surprising you. You walk down that aisle, say, “I do,” agree to mate for life, and away you go – with no idea of what lies ahead. Sometimes it’s pretty good stuff - other times it’s just disastrous.

Mr. Clark and I signed on for the long haul together 30 years ago. And, we’ve had some very good times and some pretty bad ones. The thing that always kept us together was our kids. The act of raising our children and enjoying each other as a family always seemed more important than whatever trial or tribulation was driving us apart.

Ironically, the biggest trial and tribulation so far – Mr. Clark’s now 10 months of unemployment – occurred after our little cardinals left the nest. In fact, our little cardinals were already married and settled into lives and nests of their own, when the parental nest took the hard hit.

I know it’s supposed to be “for better or for worse,” and “for richer or for poorer,” but it’s a lot easier to talk that talk, than walk that walk. And, as much as we both have tried to stay focused on the positive, and remain optimistic about the future, there have been some pretty bleak, dark and angry times here in the Clark house, as the economy continues to crumble and Mr. Clark’s job search continues to net only occasional contract work.

If you had asked me at various points along the course of our marriage, if I would still be with Mr. Clark under our current circumstances – children grown, money all gone, no job or security in sight – I’m a little ashamed to admit, but in all honesty have to say, I would’ve said, “No way.”

But, here we are – at about as low a point as two people who still have their health can be - and, we are doing just fine. Like those cardinals outside the kitchen window, Mr. Clark and I just keep on, keepin’ on. Realistically, those baby cardinals have a very poor chance of surviving to adulthood, but that doesn’t change the care with which their parents feed them or shelter them from the wind and rain.

I don’t know what the future has in store for Mr. Clark and me. I certainly hope it involves a job for him, but in this economy there are no guarantees.

What I’d like to envision for us is the same thing I like to imagine for the cardinal couple outside the kitchen window – some successes, a few failures, only a bit of heartbreak, and a continued joint effort forward…

It’s a daunting notion - mating for life – but, if the cardinals (and all those other creatures) can do it, so can Mr. Clark and I.