“Get home safe,” I called as my husband, Ken, headed into the airport terminal. Once inside, he turned and blew me a kiss. I patted my cheek, then sent one back at him. We smiled, then turned, each to our own destination.
I got into my car to head back to the ship. The next time I would see Ken would be pier-side in Norfolk. Home. At least the current one. For sailors, home was always a moving target.
Traffic on the Huey P. Long Bridge crossing the Mississippi was non-existent. Slowing, I looked upriver at the USS New York bathed in the last rays of sunset. Soon she would sail under this bridge to begin a fifty-year journey whose end I’d have to live a hundred years to see. But as a plank-owner, a member of her first crew, I knew it was my responsibility to help her start that long journey well. We all knew this, from the commanding officer to the yet unrated seaman.
USS New York was more than a ship. She was a testament. Her bow stem was made from 7 ½ tons of World Trade Center steel. Many of the men and women building her had lost homes during Katrina, yet continued her construction while living on a barge in the shipyard. Most of her crew had volunteered to serve post 9/11. The rest had chosen to remain in the Navy, even though the world had changed. USS New York, literally forged from the ashes, was a tribute to the unbreakable spirit of our nation, and we were a part of it.
Behind me a car horn blared, reminding me I was supposed to be driving, not meditating. For a moment, I thought I was back in my home state of New York, a second after the traffic light had turned green. I hit the gas and headed for the shipyard. After parking in our lot on the water side of the levee, I trudged down the pier to the quarterdeck, announced I had permission to come aboard, then climbed up several decks to my stateroom for a good night’s sleep.
At the 0630 Department Head meeting, the XO mentioned the CO wanted to see me. When the meeting ended, I wandered over to his stateroom around the corner from mine. His door was open, and he was seated at his desk. I stood in the doorway.
“You wanted to see me, Sir?”
“Come in, Chaplain. I’ve got a fun task for you. You’re going to help our ship’s sponsor, Dottie England, step the mast.”
“We’re going to do what to the mast, Sir?”
“I’m sure you can figure it out,” he said. “I know you love a challenge. Also, Dottie will be bringing her grandchildren. You’ll be their escort for the ceremony.”
After the four-deck vertical commute down to my office, I fired up my pal, Google. Thankfully, the ship’s internet was working.
I searched mast stepping, stepping the mast, coins for the ferryman, Charon, the River Styx, Roman and Greek seafaring, and anything else that would give me a clue about this ancient tradition.
RP1 Garrett walked up behind me. “I’ve finished unloading fifteen boxes of books and DVDs for the new library, Chaps,” he said, then glanced at my screen. “Ma’am, are you taking a trip?”
“Across the River Styx? Not anytime soon, I hope. The CO has tasked me with making a mast-stepping ceremony look like we know what we’re doing.”
“Do we?”
“We will when I’m finished. Oh, and we’ll be escorting Dottie England and her grandchildren.”
“The wife of the former SECNAV and Deputy SECDEF?”
“RP1, I’m glad I have you to sort out the DVs for me.”
“It’s only going to get worse for the commissioning ceremony. Right now, we’re turning away anyone less than a two-star.”
“We’re sailing the World Trade Center home. Who wouldn’t want to be part of that?”
The following afternoon, Dottie and her grandchildren arrived. The officer of the deck walked them through several areas of the ship, pausing to answer the children’s questions. When we arrived in the tiny space housing the base of the metal mast, he turned the little group over to me.
On the ledge in front of us was a flat display case holding coins and other treasures.
“We’ve come here today to perform an ancient ritual,” I said. “In the days of wooden ships, before the main mast was lifted and placed in the step that secured it to the deck, a sailor would put a coin inside the step. The Romans and Greeks believed that if misfortune befell the crew, that coin would pay Charon, the ferryman, to take them across the River Styx to the afterlife. Today, the practice of mast stepping has evolved to include placing items that honor a ship’s heritage, sponsor, and namesake. Our ship’s sponsor, Mrs. Dottie England, has come here today to honor all who serve aboard USS New York by participating in this ancient tradition.”
The commanding officer opened the case. Inside were pennies whose dates represented milestones in Dottie’s life. Among these were her birth in 1941, her marriage in 1962, and the birthdates of her children and grandchildren. One by one, Dottie removed them from the case and placed them into a small steel box.
Alongside these, she placed a New York State quarter given by CDR Curt Jones, our ship’s first commanding officer, and a vial of sand from Iwo Jima. These were followed by several challenge coins, including one from New York City Mayor Mike Bloomberg, which honored an NYPD officer killed in Iraq. Before the steel box was closed, a rivet from the keel of USS New York BB34 dated 1911 was added, along with the steel test coupon for our bow stem.
Once the box was sealed, I asked everyone to join me in prayer:
“Almighty God, creator of the wind and the waves, we are gathered here this afternoon to participate in an ancient maritime tradition that unites us with all those who have gone down to the sea in ships.
The placement of the mast into the hull in olden times signified the moment when a ‘shell’ became a ship. To hedge against fate, sailors put coins under the mast to pay what they believed was the necessary fare to ferry the crew to the underworld should they become shipwrecked. With the same sense of care for the crew, we today place, along with the physical mementos and coins, a prayer of protection for our plank-owners and all subsequent crew members who will sail USS New York into the future. May we and they face that future with courage and resilience, honor and a spirit of cooperation.
As today we place items representing significant milestones in the life of our ship’s sponsor, Dottie England, as well as items representing the long history and tradition of the United States Navy, we recognize that now we take our place in that history. May USS New York be ready to face all challenges, O God, and may we be blessed with fair winds and following seas. In your most holy name, we pray. AMEN.”
When I finished speaking, I stepped back to allow space for the welders to affix the steel box to the mast, where it will remain for fifty years, a testament to our hope and prayer that in life or in death, our crew and all those who come after us, get home safe.
The ceremony took place on October 2, 2009.
Check out the date on the certificate.
Shipbuilding always takes more time than planned.
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