Blessing Of The Fleet (And Me)

I awoke on Sunday morning and remembered something I had to do for the paper that afternoon – I had to go get a picture of the Blessing of the Fleet that was taking place on Reliance Dock at 2 p.m.

I went not knowing what to expect. My co-worker had only said it was an annual occurrence where they bless the boats that are docked near Reliance and remember those who have died at sea. When I arrived, there weren’t too many people gathered yet but they trickled in slowly and surely. A microphone was set up as well as an electric keyboard. By Wrangell standards it was a nice day – there was no rain or mist. But it was as grey as any day could be.

I moved to this island aware that fishing was a large part of life here, but it’s beyond a part of life – it’s a part of who they are. And it'll be impossible for me to ever fully comprehend how much this town is tied to the water, but Sunday was another layer of understanding for me. People rely on the water for their livelihood, whether it’s fishing or charter boating, and for their pleasure.

Before the ceremony started I was chatting with Lurine McGee, a senior citizen in the community who I’ve talked with many times now, both through interview and small talk. Lately, I find that talking to older members of the community makes me endlessly content. I know they actually have something to say.

While Lurine was telling me about tornadoes in the mid-west, we were interrupted twice by people who wanted to make sure that if Lurine wanted to sit, there were some chairs set up. Lurine is more than capable of standing for a while, but when the ceremony started she went to sit down to appease everyone else. She had said earlier that when she was younger, she watched out for the elders in Wrangell, and now as an elder herself, she is being watched over. It’s obvious to see she appreciates all these gestures, as anyone would.

Leaders from different Christian faiths around town led the ceremony and they had made a Blessing of the Fleet program. Everyone who is close to me knows that I am not a religious person. And I can honestly not remember the last time I was at a church service. I really cannot and that scares me a bit as my memory is not my strongest feature these days.

The program had scripted passages, spoken in turns. I guess there is an official Blessing of the Fleet that gets read at ceremonies all around – I am not sure. And while it was wholly religious with prayers and praises and even a hymn, the message and goal of it was towards things very practical and concrete – fishing and boats. The ceremony had all the trappings of religion but I could see exactly who and what it was affecting right before me. I could see the boats in the water. I would see fisherman standing in the crowd.

Like I said, I cannot recall the last time I sat through a church service, and perhaps my soul was a bit starved for it, but in any case, I got pretty emotional and even cried a bit (which, as you all know, isn’t such a stretch). I am in no way a born again Christian but some of the passages really got to me. It’s hard to explain. They got to me because I could see how much the people of Wrangell need these prayers and blessings for their boats. Any additional help those at sea can receive is gladly welcome, whether it’s in the form of a tide book or a higher being.

I don’t mean to go too far into this but I just wanted to include some passages from the program to illustrate what I mean:

Protect all who work upon the water during this fishing and summer season and grant them bountiful catches and a prosperous season. Protect all who are upon the waters as they earn a living.

God-speed the boats in fair weather and foul, in success and disappointment, in rain and in fog, in storm and in sunshine, God-speed the boats.

During a prayer: Save us form the temptation to take fair winds, good weather, bountiful catches, and abundant tourists and passengers for granted.

The following passages was during one of those back and forths where in between all the Pastor lines, the People would say, “We thank you Lord for all your gifts”:

Pastor: For the sound of the horn in the fog and for the sight of the harbor lights at night.

Pastor: For the gift of radio communication between boats and with the shore and for all the navigational aids,

Pastor: For the Laden nets and holds that are filled,

Pastor: For honest labor and work, and for the blessing of good crew and friends,

(and this is where I kind of lost it)

Pastor: For the faithful support and love of our families and the stability they represent, and for the comfort and warmth of a place called home,

I think it’s because of the mention of home. What is so beautiful about the people here are the values they display and emit in everyday interactions. They are the values of people who stay in one place, who have lived here their whole lives or who have consciously chosen to make Wrangell their home. And that is what’s been so hard for me to put my finger on. It’s that, what Wrangell is for these people, what I see in them, that intangible thing called home.

Toward the end of the ceremony we said the Lord’s Prayer, “Our Father, who art in heaven…” And I knew it without the program’s assistance. It is something learned in childhood that I’ll never forget, except for the end, which I never had straight. Something about reciting the words. It just got to me. It’s been way too long since I’ve felt anything spiritual, and if there was any moment when memorized phrases could be enough for me to feel so, then that was the moment.

A woman pastor threw a basket of daffodils into the water behind her. “We toss these Flowers upon the sea in remembrance of our family members, friends, and loved ones who have gone out from our harbors never to return. We especially remember Ryan Miller.”

Ryan Miller’s shrimp boat, the MRS, sunk in October. He was 38, survived by his wife and three children.

The event resonated in me. It was cultural. It was beautiful.