Most of Louisia's family showed up at the house this Thanksgiving: Mama Lucy, Paul, Connie, Elizabeth, husbands, wives and kids. Before dinner, we were all sitting around the fireplace enjoying some wine and visiting. One sister asked if we've had any recent trips on the boat. Louisia began recounting the latest of the Adventures of Pine Knot, a trip down the Texas coast to Freeport.
When Mama Lucy's around, I try to downplay our boating adventures. She's never been real happy about her newest son-in-law taking her baby-girl out to sea. I don't believe her fears of Louisia sailing away--never to be seen again--are based on her doubts about my seamanship skills, but rather, on tales of sea monsters, the unquestioned existence of the Bermuda Triangle, hours of seafaring horror stories on the History Channel, and centuries of Mexican superstition.
But, to my surprise, Mama Lucy seemed unfazed as Louisia vividly described Pine Knot crashing through 8 foot waves, green water over her bow, as we exited the Galveston jetties. Louisia's explanation of why we had to press on--since turning around in such high seas might risk broaching--didn't bring a flicker of worry to Mama's face. Even how we almost ran over an unlighted buoy in Galveston Bay just before sunrise, brought no evident reaction of angst.
Maybe, I wondered, could the fact that we've now cruised a couple of thousand miles on Pine Knot without serious injury, striking an iceberg, or being consumed by sea serpents, have put Mama's mind at ease? Maybe, she's accepted the idea that Pine Knot is a safe little ship. Maybe, she feels confident that I am a great protector. Or maybe...it was just her new hearing aid.
Then disaster struck! It wasn't the waves, it wasn't the buoy, it wasn't a malfunctioning hearing aid...it was the BIRD!
As I recall, it went something like this:
"There we were, pilot house doors open, making about 8 knots, following seas 4 to 6 feet, cruising along about 3 miles offshore, and this little bird just flew right in the pilot house, circled around, and flew back out," Louisia chattered.
Then, I heard a gasp. Mama Lucy's hand clutched at her chest. She would have crossed herself had she still been Catholic. In an onimous tone she asked, "What color was the bird?"
"It was just a little brown bird Mama," Louisia replied.
"A bird flying into your house is a bad omen!" Mama Lucy exclaimed.
A cloud of dread descended upon the room. For a moment, I thought I might have forgotten to open the fireplace damper.
Then, Paul spoke up, "Mama, I think it's a black bird that brings bad luck."
"No," gushed Connie, "A bird in the house means someone's going to have a baby! It's a good omen!"
Elizabeth added, "My son, Michael, saw a redbird outside his window the other day when he was on the computer and he's been going crazy wondering if it means something bad's fixin' to happen."
"I think it's an albatross that brings bad luck, and only if you kill it or something like that," I said, trying to calm the situation. "It certainly wasn't an albatross in the pilot house, and anyhow, it safely flew away."
"I still say it's a bad omen," Mama Lucy muttered.
"The bird was a brown bird, a tiny brown bird," Louisia said, a bit shaken. "And it wasn't the house but the pilot house," she meekly added.
"Someone's going to have a baby!" chirped Connie.
Everyone was talking over everyone. The husbands, wives, and children began adding their own opinions as to whether the bird sighting means we are blessed or doomed.
The only thing I can conclude is: Don't know if it's good, don't know if it's bad, but--Sumthin's Gonna Happen!
Next: My All-Time Favorite Nautical-Themed Movies (Part 1)
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