His Name Was Eddie

On February 8, 1984, the Steamer William G. Mather was moored in Toledo along the Maumee River.  A homeless man from Salt Lake City by the name of Eddie John Valdez had found his way onboard the abandoned ship.  The Mather had not sailed since December 21, 1980 and her future looked rather bleak; the cutter's torch seemed very likely by this point. As such, security was not exactly tight and Mr. Valdez probably had little trouble getting onto the boat.

We don't know much about Mr. Valdez.  The only reason we know his name is because he died aboard the Mather, the victim of smoke inhalation caused by a fire he had started.  Not only did Mr. Valdez perish, but the dining rooms and galley of the Mather were left with severe damage.

Mr. Valdez was also the cause of something of a schism among those of us who served on the Mather after she became a museum.  Some museum crew members painted a distasteful image of Mr. Valdez: here was a shiftless vagrant who intentionally set a fire on their beloved boat.  Meanwhile, others onboard were less hostile toward Mr. Valdez: he was only 26 years old, probably cold as hell and looking for shelter, and the fire was most likely an accident (the BGSU database cites "an improperly discarded cigarette").

For me, the most important fact was that a man had died a horrible death.  I doubted that anything Mr. Valdez had done in life made him deserving of such a fate.  It is certainly possible that he was in fact a despicable person, but we did not have the evidence to prove that.  The damage to the galley and dining rooms was eventually repaired (with significant help from the Junior League of Cleveland), but Mr. Valdez was gone.  That such a noble vessel could have been the site of man's lonely death was a sad thing indeed.

Mr. Valdez is the only person that we know of who actually died aboard the Mather.  For 55 years, she was an extremely safe workplace for her crew.  Anecdotes appear from time to time relating deaths during her working career, but none are documented.  Then there is the tragedy of Dr. John Carey, but for as horrible as that incident was, he technically did not die on the boat.

On more than one occasion while I served as the Mather's shipkeeper, I would say a little prayer for Mr. Valdez as I passed through the galley at night.  Perhaps new facts will surface someday that indicate something criminal and/or unsavory in Mr. Valdez's past.  Even in that event, however, I would tend to think that I would still find forgiveness for Mr. Valdez.  I believe to act otherwise would be contrary to the spirit of Mr. Mather himself.

Sources: www.boatnerd.com: "Today in Great Lakes History-February 8"
                BGSU Great Lakes Vessel Databse

Fire damage in the Officers' Dining Room of the Mather

Another view of the damage to the Officers' Dining Room.

China cabinet in the Mather's Guest Dining Room.

Inside the Mather's galley.

Close up of cabinets in the Mather's pantry.

Damaged porthole.

"Life Is What Happens While You're Busy Making Other Plans"

Oh, the wisdom of Lennon;  how true his lyrics from "Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy) are!  2012 was one of those years in which a lot of life happened.

We found out about Alissa in the early stages of the year.  Of course, she wasn't Alissa quite yet; her title of "Princess Buttercup" actually came before her given name was finalized.  Like many a new parent, seeing the first ultrasound images of my daughter left me at a loss for words.  I had even fewer words at the second ultrasound appointment.  Finally seeing our little daughter's face was almost surreal; we're having a baby?!

The first few months of Aimee's pregnancy went well, but then June 8 came along.  The enlightened heads of Horizon decided to end Aimee's employment.  I happened to be waiting in Aimee's classroom the day that it happened; we were set to go to a wedding that evening and we figured it would save time if we simply left straight from the school.  There is but one occasion in which I felt more helpless than I did that afternoon and that was when my father was dying.   The only actions available to me were to help Aimee clean out her classroom and drive away from the building.  A significant part of me wanted to storm upstairs to the office, but logic prevailed.

Eventually, we regrouped.  Yes, our economic situation was suddenly much less secure (not that we were riding the gravy train to begin with), but we kept reminding ourselves that Aimee was much better off away from the Concept Schools (HSA's umbrella organization).  After all, who wants to work for people who: fire five-month pregnant women; are being tracked for all sorts of malfeasance (see www.charterschoolwatchdog.com); and get featured on "60 Minutes"?

But then August 22 came along.  Without question, my dumbest mistake ever.  Something was on my side that day and I was able to literally crawl from the wreckage and live to tell the tale.  I don't need to see what it's like to go over the edge ever again.

So then, we regroup yet again.  Westfield Insurance treated us most kindly, paying bills and cutting us a check for the value of the Baja.  We secured a 2008 Outback and settled in for the last few weeks of Aimee's pregnancy.

And then September 25th stopped by.  This was Aimee's due date, but she didn't exhibit any signs of labor. . .until about 5:30 pm, right as I got back from work.  There were reports of cramps and some blood, so the doctor's office was called.  Aimee's usual doctor was off for Yom Kippur, so one of the other doctor's in the practice took the call.  She advised us to go to the hospital, just in case.

We got the car packed up and motored on up to Hillcrest Hospital.  We had gotten our pre-admittance papers in, so the check-in process was expedited.  Before long, we found ourselves in a triage room where Aimee was looked over by the staff.  The lead nurse on duty had a priceless line: "Cramps!?  Those are contractions, honey!".  The doctor on-call made an appearance and decided to have Aimee admitted; it was indeed go time.

That triage room was our home for over 5 hours.  It was quite a relief to finally be led to a labor and delivery room.  Aimee had a better bed, I had a couch, and we were ready to face the night.

As the wee hours crept in, however, I began to have the sense that all was not right.  Aimee's pain seemed to be more intense than it should have been; none of the tricks we learned in our childbirth classes could make a dent in the discomfort.  Aimee requested her epidural long about 5am, but it would be 3 wretched hours before the anesthesiologist arrived.

Once the epidural kicked in (8:30am, or so), Aimee felt much better.  Also by this time, Aimee's mom had arrived and things were looking for up; for about ten minutes.  Things began to happen very quickly.  

The doctor in charge that morning was Dr. Kenny Rao, the head of obstetrics at Hillcrest.  Dr Rao was not pleased with the data coming from Aimee's monitors.  Her blood O2 levels were low, both mother and baby had a temperature (the fever was spotted by student nurse from Ursuline who had been a medic for some time when she was younger), and to top it all off, the baby's heart rate was pinned at a very high mark.  Dr. Rao looked to me and Aimee's mom: if things didn't get better very soon, a C-Section would be needed. 

Dr. Rao had initially given things an hour to improve, but he was back within 15 minutes.  None of the numbers were getting better, so the decision was made to perform the C-Section.  Aimee was prepped for surgery while I stayed behind in the labor/delivery room.  I was given scrubs to put on and then escorted to the OR where the procedure would occur.

I am always amazed by how time can move slowly and quickly all at once.  On one hand, the surgery seemed to take an eternity, but on the other hand it flashed by in an instant ("wait, their counting up tools already?").  Before I knew how to react, I was being handed a beautiful baby girl.

I only had a precious few moments with the baby, however, before she was whisked to the NICU.  That aforementioned temperature was still there, so the staff decided it would be best for the baby to spend 48 hours in the NICU where antibiotics would be administered.

Since there was an exceptional number of births that week (very little room at the inn), Aimee was put back in the labor/delivery room to recover.  It was at this point that we finally knew what our baby's name would be; Princess Buttercup was now also Alissa Grace.

Eventually Aimee's parents, my mom, and I were able to go to the NICU to see Alissa.  Our poor little girl had all manner of wires and tubes attached to her, but we knew it wouldn't be for long.  We felt so bad for the children who were spending days and weeks in the NICU; 48 hours didn't seem that bad in comparison. 

Later on I wheeled Aimee down to the NICU so she could get her first look at her daughter.  Words cannot express the emotions I felt seeing Aimee and Alissa together at last.

The rest of the hospital stay was an endurance test, especially for Aimee.  We had to travel to the NICU every two hours so Aimee could feed Alissa; this was really fun in the wee hours of the morning.  The big crowds in the maternity ward made for slow waits on everything, from food service to receiving meds.  Noise levels were quite high, even during alleged quiet hours.  And, to top it all off, there was no way Aimee was going to be alone in her room for too much longer.

The roommate sword came down on the 29th.  What was once a spacious room was now a tight windowless corner for two adults and a baby.  Our insurance would have covered one more night in the hospital and Aimee preferred having the extra evening, but getting any rest in the hospital room would have been impossible.  The proper forms were completed and by late afternoon we were back in our house with our new addition.

As for most new parents, the first two weeks out of the hospital were pretty challenging.  But we survived and even got to the point where we resembled competent parents.  We even managed to get through the holidays in one piece.

While I could have done without some aspects of 2012, having Alissa was worth all of the not-so-pleasant moments.  Just one little smile from our baby girl is a powerful elixir indeed. And I'm sure that no matter what life throws at us in 2013, it will be a great year.