Fair Winds and a Following Sea
Years ago I heard that there is nothing more useless in our world than yesterday’s newspaper.
Few revisit a newspaper after a more recent one is delivered. You can hardly recycle an old newspaper fast enough.
Last week I found something that may be even more useless; an undelivered eulogy.
My brother-in-law, Bill Johnston passed away unexpectantly on Valentine’s Day. Because he served in the US Navy Bill was interred last Thursday at Fort Snelling National Cemetery with an honor guard, 3 volleys of rifle shots, Taps, and the presentation of the Flag and shell casings to the next of kin.
Honoring his wishes his Navy Reserve friends threw him a party at a local VFW last Tuesday evening. Bill would have loved it. It was low key, casual, and it combined both his actual and his Navy families in a location he had frequented over the years.
As the evening wound down a microphone came out and people began sharing their memories of Bill. I had a great story to tell. But was it appropriate? I thought maybe not, so I remained mum.
I find as I grow older that more and more I regret things I didn’t do rather than things I did.
Not speaking at Bill’s party will be added to the list of regrets as I have heard from a few people there that night that they were surprised I didn’t get up and talk.
I should have done it for my wife (Bill’s Sister).
I should have done it for Bill’s family and friends.
Most of all I should have done it for Bill.
In an attempt to rectify that error here are the comments I wanted to make.
“I know many of you here tonight, others of us have yet to meet.
Allow me to introduce myself. I am Todd Stroessner. Bill and I haven’t really had any profound effects on each others lives. Fate just threw us together when I fell in love with and married his baby sister, Liz.
If you’ll permit me I have three vivid memories of Bill I’d like to share.
I’m sure most of you know that when you marry into a family their cares and concerns also become your own.
You laugh together through the joyous occasions.
You lean on each other and cry together in sorrow.
AND, if you’re lucky, like Bill and I were, you can do both at once.
I hope you are not offended by this story. Bill and I share an unusual bond forged in a very unique situation.
Shortly after Liz and I married her Aunt Margie passed away.
Bill and I had never been pall bearers before. For some reason, unknown to us, Bill and I were stationed on either side of the casket in the front position – maybe that’s where the new guys always go – who knows? Dick Olson, Mark Hutchinson and Rudy Poppe, all brothers-in-law were also pall bearers, but farther back on the casket. I don’t recall who the sixth man was.
As the funeral ended at the Catholic church in Shakopee it was time to perform our first duty; carrying the casket from the church to the hearse.
I mention that the church was in Shakopee because it was fitting since Shakopee is the home of Valley Fair with its roller coasters and other thrill rides. As we emerged from the worship area and proceeded through the narthex to the front door we realized the steps to street level were so incredibly steep that Bill and I both had the familiar sensation of reaching the top of the first climb of a roller coaster. We could hardly see where we were descending to.
Tentatively we walked the first step, no problems.
At the second step we felt the weight slightly shift toward us.
The third step…
Ah yes, the third step.
Quick show of hands; how many people here tonight were children once?
Go ahead, raise your hands.
Now, keep your hands up if, as a child you ever were out with your friends and things kind of innocently got out of hand.
Maybe a baseball went through a neighbor’s window.
Or a full gallon of paint spilled on the garage floor.
Or maybe someone ran the old style electric lawnmower over the cord that powered it.
Remember the expression you all made at that very instant?
I think now a days when that happens some say, ‘The shit just got real!’
Well, on the third step Bill and I gave each other that look and the shit definitely got real when we felt Aunt Margie slide forward headfirst and THUD against the front of the casket.
Later, in the church basement, over potato salad, little turkey sandwiches, and Jell-O with shredded carrots, we compared notes. Should we have tried to shake her back once we reached level ground? Would that have looked too weird? Should we have mentioned it to the undertaker? We didn’t know, we were the new guys and being in front we were the only ones who must have felt it since none of the others mentioned it.
Bill and I laughed about it that day and any other time we spoke of it.
I’m hoping that Bill remembers that we decided that if Margie made it to her just reward and had a permanent stiff neck we both were going to plead ignorance. We were the new guys and didn’t know any better.
Don’t throw me under the bus Bill, that’s our story and we’re sticking to it.
Fast forward to last Spring. Jack Daniel’s was running ads that stated that Frank Sinatra liked Jack Daniel's so much that his standing order, every night on stage was 3 rocks 2 fingers, and a splash of water. He was even buried with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Of course Frank was THE MAN, so I had to pose the question to all of my Facebook friends,
‘If Frank is buried with Jack Daniel’s, what do you want to be buried with?’
The first response was a no-brainer.
It was Bill and he said Crown Royal.
The next time I saw Bill we discussed it. I told him if he wanted, upon his passing, we could toast him with Crown Royal like we did with Courvoisier for his mom Gramma Ole. He said he’d like that but only if we used the maritime toast, ‘Fair winds and a following sea.’
Bill explained that the toast bids sailors ideal conditions for their journeys.
It sounded good to me so I told him to consider it done.
After visiting Bill in the hospital recently I finally Googled it and found the full lyrics to the song, 'Fair Winds and a Following Sea' by Tom Lewis. The toast became even more appropriate when I heard the song. With your permission I’d like to attempt to read it now. You surely don't want me to sing it.
‘May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind ever be at your back,
May you find old friends waiting to greet you, there on the outside track.
We're gathered together old times to remember, 'tis but for ourselves we would grieve,
So we'll sing you a chorus and bid you farewell - fair winds and a following sea.
We'll sing of 'The Leaf' and 'The Parting Glass', we'll raise up our voices
in song, Years ago I heard that there is nothing more useless in our world than yesterday’s newspaper.
Few revisit a newspaper after a more recent one is delivered. You can hardly recycle an old newspaper fast enough.
Last week I found something that may be even more useless; an undelivered eulogy.
My brother-in-law, Bill Johnston passed away unexpectantly on Valentine’s Day. Because he served in the US Navy Bill was interred last Thursday at Fort Snelling National Cemetery with an honor guard, 3 volleys of rifle shots, Taps, and the presentation of the Flag and shell casings to the next of kin.
Honoring his wishes his Navy Reserve friends threw him a party at a local VFW last Tuesday evening. Bill would have loved it. It was low key, casual, and it combined both his actual and his Navy families in a location he had frequented over the years.
As the evening wound down a microphone came out and people began sharing their memories of Bill. I had a great story to tell. But was it appropriate? I thought maybe not, so I remained mum.
I find as I grow older that more and more I regret things I didn’t do rather than things I did.
Not speaking at Bill’s party will be added to the list of regrets as I have heard from a few people there that night that they were surprised I didn’t get up and talk.
I should have done it for my wife (Bill’s Sister).
I should have done it for Bill’s family and friends.
Most of all I should have done it for Bill.
In an attempt to rectify that error here are the comments I wanted to make.
“I know many of you here tonight, others of us have yet to meet.
Allow me to introduce myself. I am Todd Stroessner. Bill and I haven’t really had any profound effects on each others lives. Fate just threw us together when I fell in love with and married his baby sister, Liz.
If you’ll permit me I have three vivid memories of Bill I’d like to share.
I’m sure most of you know that when you marry into a family their cares and concerns also become your own.
You laugh together through the joyous occasions.
You lean on each other and cry together in sorrow.
AND, if you’re lucky, like Bill and I were, you can do both at once.
I hope you are not offended by this story. Bill and I share an unusual bond forged in a very unique situation.
Shortly after Liz and I married her Aunt Margie passed away.
Bill and I had never been pall bearers before. For some reason, unknown to us, Bill and I were stationed on either side of the casket in the front position – maybe that’s where the new guys always go – who knows? Dick Olson, Mark Hutchinson and Rudy Poppe, all brothers-in-law were also pall bearers, but farther back on the casket. I don’t recall who the sixth man was.
As the funeral ended at the Catholic church in Shakopee it was time to perform our first duty; carrying the casket from the church to the hearse.
I mention that the church was in Shakopee because it was fitting since Shakopee is the home of Valley Fair with its roller coasters and other thrill rides. As we emerged from the worship area and proceeded through the narthex to the front door we realized the steps to street level were so incredibly steep that Bill and I both had the familiar sensation of reaching the top of the first climb of a roller coaster. We could hardly see where we were descending to.
Tentatively we walked the first step, no problems.
At the second step we felt the weight slightly shift toward us.
The third step…
Ah yes, the third step.
Quick show of hands; how many people here tonight were children once?
Go ahead, raise your hands.
Now, keep your hands up if, as a child you ever were out with your friends and things kind of innocently got out of hand.
Maybe a baseball went through a neighbor’s window.
Or a full gallon of paint spilled on the garage floor.
Or maybe someone ran the old style electric lawnmower over the cord that powered it.
Remember the expression you all made at that very instant?
I think now a days when that happens some say, ‘The shit just got real!’
Well, on the third step Bill and I gave each other that look and the shit definitely got real when we felt Aunt Margie slide forward headfirst and THUD against the front of the casket.
Later, in the church basement, over potato salad, little turkey sandwiches, and Jell-O with shredded carrots, we compared notes. Should we have tried to shake her back once we reached level ground? Would that have looked too weird? Should we have mentioned it to the undertaker? We didn’t know, we were the new guys and being in front we were the only ones who must have felt it since none of the others mentioned it.
Bill and I laughed about it that day and any other time we spoke of it.
I’m hoping that Bill remembers that we decided that if Margie made it to her just reward and had a permanent stiff neck we both were going to plead ignorance. We were the new guys and didn’t know any better.
Don’t throw me under the bus Bill, that’s our story and we’re sticking to it.
Fast forward to last Spring. Jack Daniel’s was running ads that stated that Frank Sinatra liked Jack Daniel's so much that his standing order, every night on stage was 3 rocks 2 fingers, and a splash of water. He was even buried with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Of course Frank was THE MAN, so I had to pose the question to all of my Facebook friends,
‘If Frank is buried with Jack Daniel’s, what do you want to be buried with?’
The first response was a no-brainer.
It was Bill and he said Crown Royal.
The next time I saw Bill we discussed it. I told him if he wanted, upon his passing, we could toast him with Crown Royal like we did with Courvoisier for his mom Gramma Ole. He said he’d like that but only if we used the maritime toast, ‘Fair winds and a following sea.’
Bill explained that the toast bids sailors ideal conditions for their journeys.
It sounded good to me so I told him to consider it done.
After visiting Bill in the hospital recently I finally Googled it and found the full lyrics to the song, 'Fair Winds and a Following Sea' by Tom Lewis. The toast became even more appropriate when I heard the song. With your permission I’d like to attempt to read it now. You surely don't want me to sing it.
‘May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind ever be at your back,
May you find old friends waiting to greet you, there on the outside track.
We're gathered together old times to remember, 'tis but for ourselves we would grieve,
So we'll sing you a chorus and bid you farewell - fair winds and a following sea.
No sadness today for the one who has passed, celebrate with a voice glad and strong.
A catch in the throat, a tear in the eye, but no funeral dirge will this be,
We'll roar 'Auld Lang Syne' as a victory song - fair winds and a following sea.
And those of us left here will miss a true friend, who shared with us good times and bad,
Raising a glass to your memory we'll say: “We've known you – why should we be sad?”
We honour a life that was lived to the full, we honour a spirit, now free.
You'll long be remembered, whenever we say: “Fair winds and a following sea!”
You'll long be remembered, whenever we say: “Fair winds and a following sea!”'
The third and final memory I’d like to share about Bill occurred just recently.
Bill cherished buying the birthday or Christmas gift that kids loved but parents hated.
I fancy myself an excellent grandfather, but sometimes a great uncle can trump that. This past Christmas at Sharon and Dick’s house Bill had bought the twins a couple of flashlights that blinked and made noises. I didn’t notice that my granddaughter Ayla LOVED those flashlights.
I hear she kept playing with them all afternoon.
I didn’t notice, but Bill did.
Ayla turned a year old on January 2nd and sure enough Bill had another one of those flashlights wrapped and ready to go for her for her big day.
It wasn’t until Bill was stricken and in the hospital that we found out Bill had to go to three different Menard’s stores to find the exact same flashlight that Ayla loved so much.
I didn’t even know there were three Menard’s stores in the Twin Cities, but Bill did.
And he made the effort just to make a little one year old girl happy.
Bill was a great uncle as well as a great-uncle.
Until we meet again fair winds and a following sea Bill Johnston!”
