Crossing the Equator & New Years Eve

The sound of the cabin phone jerked me out of a sound sleep.

“Mr. Hovenier?”

“Yes.”

“This is the ship’s nurse. Your father is down here in the medical center. Can you please come down?”

I was scared. I didn’t know what had happened. The way my dad’s health has been declining it could be anything. “Yes, I’ll be right there.” It was 9:45. Casey had left the cabin an hour ago for French toast, hot chocolate and needlepoint with Anthony and Sukey. I stumbled around the cabin, grabbed the first clothes handy and rushed to the medical center without combing my hair.

As I walked in the nurse led me to the examination room. “What’s wrong Dad?” I blurted out.

“Not much. I just thought I should see the doctor about this bump on my foot.” My dad had developed a rash on his ankle. The night before he mentioned he might go to the doctor the next day. Relief washed over me. The doctor suggested he take some Cipro for five days. Fortunately I had a 10-day supply with me. I always carry ibuprofen, Aleve, aspirin, Imodium, Pepto-Bismol and an antibiotic on a trip like this.

The day continued to improve. My dad’s mind and agility seemed much better and he insisted on participating in the ancient mariner tradition of initiating souls

crossing the equator for the first time. Though my parents and I have often crossed the equator by plane, this was our first sea crossing, and tradition, fortune and precedent demanded that we be transformed from Polliwogs to Shellbacks for the safety of the ship and our person.

At 1:30 we appeared on deck and the cruise director, Dottie, made us all solemnly swear that we were of reasonably sound mind, and adequate body and that we

would pay homage to King Neptune in exchange for safe passage. Our metamorphosis was much easier than sailors crossing on a Navy vessel—on Oceania we have towels, showers and friendly staff—but all of us lined up, kissed a fish, got slimed and swore “Holy Mackerel” to King Neptune. My father was the only passenger I saw using a cane. He received a smattering of applause and King Neptune insisted that he need not kneel—instead the King came down to my dad and welcomed him to the International Fraternity of Shellbacks.

That evening we sat outside on the stern of Tapas on the Terrace as the sun set. Nautica was slowly cruising the Indian Ocean and the ship swayed with the rhythm

of the sea as the yellow, gold and blue sky gently eased into a kaleidoscope of orange, red and purple ribbons till they slowly surrendered to the night. I’ve requested the headwaiters and maître d’s watch out for my father and cut his food into bite-sized portions. Though he can still use his fork and knife, its much better for him to expend his energy eating. The staff has been fantastic and they carry his plate to the table, cut his food, and make sure his buttermilk follows him from the Grand Dining Room to the Terrace Cafe.

This morning we had a mandatory lifeboat drill. When I arrived at the muster station I realized that we were on a different lifeboat than my parents. Casey noticed too. “Dad, shouldn’t we be with grandpa and grandma? They might need our help.”

“You’re absolutely right Casey. I’ll talk to the ship and see what we can do.” With Casey in tow I approached a security officer and explained if this really was an emergency that I wouldn’t follow directions to my muster station—that I would insist on going with my parents—and asked if some accommodation could be made in the very unlikely event there was a real emergency. They took care of it and now in a case of a crisis I am with my parents. I don’t want to defy a ship officer’s order in an actual crisis, so I was glad to get this resolved.

We enjoyed our sea day in route to the Maldives. The weather was warm and balmy and though the decks were fairly full, I always found an open deck chair. I spent part of the day working with Casey on his math homework. He is beginning algebra and I find some of the verbiage in his textbook confusing. He has eight math assignments to complete before we get home and we are only on his second. Since I don’t want to end the cruise with frustration, anger and tears, we established a schedule for homework on sea days. I help with math and science, my mom does his journal, geography and reading, and Bart, the ship’s trombonist, is giving him music lessons.

In a few days I am giving a lecture on the ship about the book I wrote in 2007, Cruising with Mom and Dad. I wasn’t going to speak on this cruise, but when I realized this is probably the last time my dad will have an opportunity to see me give a book reading, especially to such a friendly audience, I decided I needed to do it. I spent the afternoon rereading parts of the book, reliving old memories and planning what I was going to say on Monday.

When I went up to the computer room to print my lecture outline I saw Casey bent over a garbage can. When he stood up I realized he had a soda.

“Casey! What are you doing?”

Without thinking he lied. “Uh, I was walking by here and I saw a Coke that someone didn’t finish and I took a drink…” I stared at him doubtfully.

“Take a deep breath Casey. This time try telling me the truth. I’ll wait till you’re ready.” He paused, breathed and looked me in the eye.

“I’m sorry dad. I got a Roy Rogers (a coca cola with grenadine) and didn’t ask you.” I rarely let him drink Cokes. The last thing Casey usually needs is caffeine.

“Thanks for telling me the truth. I think a reasonable consequence is no sodas for two days, OK?”

“OK, I’m really sorry…” he looked so sad. He hates disappointing me.

The ship is decorated with hats, noisemakers and balloons for New Years Eve. There are three separate parties tonight: orchestra music in the Nautica lounge, piano music in Martinis, and pop music in Horizons. A few days ago I discovered something I didn’t know about holidays on Oceania. Polo and Toscana serve both the special dining room menus and their regular menus on Christmas and New Years Eve. I didn’t try to get reservations for either because I wanted the special dining room menu, but if I am ever on board during the holidays again I’ll try to make resevations in Polo and Toscana and enjoy the best of both worlds.

When Casey and I went to my parent’s room to meet my mom and dad for dinner, my dad was wearing a tuxedo. He looked quite debonair and there was a twinkle in his eye when he saw I was just wearing a Tommy Bahama shirt and slacks. I rushed back to our cabin and put on the one shirt, jacket and tie I brought. Ties

aren’t a requisite on Oceania, but knowing that my dad and Casey had them I brought one too.

In hindsight I’m glad I did. We’ve been invited for dinner with the captain in a few days and I want to look my best. Usually dining with the captain wouldn’t me important to me. But this captain, Juric Brajcic, has been master of Nautica all three times I’ve sailed her. He runs a tight ship, he’s successfully repelled pirates and his home, Dubrovnik, is one of my favorite ports. So we will dress up for the captain, take photos and create one more memory. Neither my father nor mother has had dinner with the captain either, so it will be fun.

Tomorrow we reach the Maldives. My dad has had two good days in a row. He is moving better, his mind seems much improved and his headache has eased. I’d like to think it’s a permanent cure now that he is a Shellback, but I feel that the next few years with my father will be a slow tango of good days, bad days and sometimes a little of each in the same day. I’m so glad we’re here. My attention isn’t diverted to work or other commitments and I can be fully present with my mom, dad and Casey. I asked Casey last night what the best thing is about being on this cruise. Without hesitating he replied, “Spending time with you and Grandpa and Grandma and Sukey.”

On a long cruise everyone keep track of days his or her own way. Casey counts days by whether the ship made doughnuts or not (they make them fresh every other day and he knows which days they are served). I usually count my cruise days by sea days or port days—the day of the week is irrelevant—but this cruise, the main barometer for my mother and me is my dad’s condition. It’s a luxury to be here with both of them, with all of our day-to-day needs met, simply paying attention to my father, and enjoying his good days together, and learning from his bad ones.

Tonight at dinner my mom said, “This is the best I’ve seen your father the whole trip.” We both smiled.

“You’re right mom. He’s doing great. Do you realize we only have two weeks left?” She nodded. “Mom, I think today is the first day I’ve felt a little sad about going home.”

“Me too,” she replied. “And that’s why.” She nodded toward my father. Both of us delighted in having him with us for New Years Eve, fully present, full of life, smiling and having a good time. After dinner my parents went to the ship’s version of The Newlywed Game. The emcee made my father get up, walk to the stage and show off his tuxedo. He was called out as the best-dressed man on the ship. After the show the orchestra started playing and I noticed my parents had disappeared. I

hoped they hadn’t gone to bed—it was only 10:45 and we had over an hour till midnight. Then I saw them. Dancing to the live music, my father leading my mom on the ballroom floor, moving a little slowly, but moving.

When we arrived to Horizons there weren’t any chairs. Normally I try to be polite, but with at least 50 open seats and every one of them claimed as “saved,” I did what I needed to for my dad and mom to have a place to sit to ring in 2011. The three of us huddled together, enjoying Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da and my parent’s don’t even like The Beatles. As the New Year grew closer I spotted Casey, zipping

through the crowd like a wild puppy, throwing confetti, blowing a horn, laughing and high-fiving the crowd.

They say that what you do New Years Eve is a reflection of what you’ll do the coming year. I hope they’re right. There are many things I don’t know—the older I get the more aware of that I am—but one thing I am certain of is that there is no way I’d rather spend 2011 than in the company of my parents, both in good spirits, well fed, laughing, listening to music and eating fresh marzipan and pastries from roving waiters. At 11:59 the captain came on the ship loudspeakers and counted down to midnight. At the stroke of 12, noisemakers, champagne glasses, horns

and confetti erupted everywhere. My father stood up, my mom looked in his eyes and they kissed many times. I saw a tear in my father’s eye as he tightly held the women he has loved dearly for most of his life.

I kissed them both—I’m old enough now to kiss my dad in public again—but I don’t expect the same from my son. He’s only 12. A few minutes later I saw Captain Brajcic make his way toward us as he wished everyone in Horizons a Happy New Year. As he approached our table I leaped to my feet to shake his hand. “Happy New Year, Jack,” he said. The captain is a tall, commanding figure with just enough gray hair that I trust him. He looks like a man I’d want to follow.

“Thank you Captain. Happy New Year to you.” As I congratulated the captain, my dad grabbed both arms of his chair, and just a little awkwardly stood up to politely greet the master of Nautica.

“Pete, Pete!” the Captain complained. “Please. Do not get up for me,” still the captain extended my father his arm and helped him to his feet. “I wish you the best in the New Year Pete. I hope you have a very good New Year.” I was surprised. I didn’t know the captain knew my father’s name. I could tell he knows my father isn’t well. Whether he gets a medical office report or is just a keen observer, he is aware of what happens on his ship.

“Thank you. Happy New Year to you,” my father said. The captain shook his hand again. He smiled a little longer at my dad than I saw him smile at anyone else, then he moved along to greet the other passengers.

I know all the days in 2011 won’t be like this. But the past two days have been the best of the cruise. My father feels like the man who raised me, my son is having the time of his life, my mother has had a little weight lifted as she enjoys the man she loves and I’ve delighted in being with three of the people I love most in the world.

My parents and I returned to our cabins as 12:30. When we turned in Casey was

still running around the ship, dancing to YMCA, singing Celebration and having the best New Year’s Eve of his life. He has taken to life on Nautica and he will miss it when we get home.

Wherever you are, I wish you and your loved ones a Happy New Year.

Thanks for reading,

Jack