Sailing Valentines: Blue Umbrella

February 14, 2013

Happy Valentine's Day, dear reader. Read on for Part 1, the tale of the Blue Umbrella; Part 2 is the saga of Ohana and Voyager.

Pat and Nancy Broderick

Yes, there is a Nancy, the one Pat named his Wyliecat 30 after. We don't see Nancy out sailing in races, and she rarely makes an appearance at yacht clubs. However, something must be working because Pat and Nancy have been married for more than 50 years! Pat tells their story:

Nancy and I met at Lewis & Clark College (Portland) in 1958. Lewis & Clark is a small liberal arts college where students were together in the Commons for meals or in lecture rooms or participating in on-campus social events. I was attracted to Nancy, but even in that small universe our worlds were different. I wasn't bold enough to ask her out for a date.

The women's dorms and the Commons at Lewis & Clark face a large grassy quad, a popular gathering place on campus. This particular afternoon I was standing under the Commons' entrance waiting to go into my dish room job and saw Nancy walking with several friends across the parking lot toward their dorm. It was a normal Portland day, raining and blustery. Suddenly her blue umbrella caught a gust, turning it inside out. As the umbrella attempted to fly away, Nancy spun around, trying to get it under control. It's an image that's burned into my memory.

Although we didn't start dating for some time afterward, we both remember that moment as very important to our relationship. Over the years it has become a family "event," the spark that began this wonderful relationship that's beginning its 51st year of marriage and 54th year of togetherness. William Carlos Williams wrote a poem about how important a red wheelbarrow was; I guess I wrote a poem about how important a blue umbrella was. Who could guess that such a simple object could achieve such a significant importance?

Pat wrote 'Blue Umbrella' for their 50th anniversary party in August.

Blue Umbrella

Once, across the Commons lawn,
A blue umbrella inverted by the wind,
Raincoat and dancing skirt,
Quick flashes of face and hair, pirouetting
Against the slanting rain, caught my eye.

The moment remains all these years later,
The urge to rush across the wet grass,
Across the chasm that separated us,
Throw my coat across your shoulders,
Onto the puddles beneath your dancing feet.

Winter gave way to Spring late that year,
Evenings lengthened in the dim overcast,
And you fell into my arms without knowing
Your performance had been recorded,
Indelibly impressed in my memory.