Taking a Best Friend to the Sea Buoy: A Final Journey
Some people go through life without ever having a best friend. I was blessed with two. Jim Kelly was my best friend from 1954 until he died in 2007; I’ve written about him elsewhere in this opus. Ed Dade became my other best friend when we met in 1965; Ed died in 2006. I miss both my best friends every day.
Ed called me the “Fruit Bat” because of all the fruit I consumed on our last cruise together. We were sailing through the Baltic Sea with Cass and Betty, and I was constantly helping myself to the fresh fruit available almost all day on the ship. My usual nickname from Ed, though, was Maj. I think he first started using that after seeing a TV sitcom called “Major Dad.”
I called him “Gout Man,” a nickname he had bestowed on a fellow passenger (who happened to be much younger than us) who shared our table on a Rhine River Cruise some years before, who constantly whined about his gout problems. It turned out Ed developed his own gout problems a little later and, though he never complained or whined, I bestowed the sobriquet – and he loved it. I also always reminded him that the malady came to him as a just punishment for all the nasty things he had said about our former fellow passenger.
Ed Dade and I met when we were first office agents together in the St. Louis Office of the FBI, in 1965. Cass was pregnant with Tim; Betty with Kreg: “Frick and Frack” as they came to be known by Ed and me. I don’t remember which one was which, but they enjoyed their special names too.
I left St. Louis in August 1965 bound for Monterey, California and Ed left shortly after that for Los Angeles. We managed to get together a couple times during 1965-1966 in Monterey. The Dade and McKenna kids: Kurt, Karin and Kreg got along like siblings with Bob and Tim McKenna, and when Steve came along he fit right in.
In October 1966, we moved into our first home in Bowie, Maryland (I had been transferred to the FBI Washington D.C. Office), and, when the Dades left Los Angeles a year later bound for New York, they stopped in Bowie for a visit along the way. I’ll never forget that. I knew they were anxious to get home to family, but still took the time to stop for a short visit.
Ed and Betty bought a house in Wayne, New Jersey, and stayed there for the rest of Ed’s life. Ed commuted to the New York FBI office five days a week for almost 20 years, and never complained. I could not have done it, but then Ed did lots of things that I could not have done. I’ll never forget the fireplace and chimney he built single-handed. That chimney was three stories high and Ed built it brick by brick with no help. It was that “can do” training he got as a U. S. Navy Seabee. He really could do anything.
There were many visits (all special) both in Bowie and Wayne between 1967 and 1973, when we moved to Florida for the first time. During those days, we vacationed together once on Long Beach Island, and every other year on the Outer Banks of North Carolina at Kitty Hawk. Those were great vacations, and it was on the Outer Banks where my kids will always remember Ed and me standing for hours at the shoreline discussing the world’s problems. The beer koozie had not yet been invented, so to be sure we did not have to tolerate warm beer we always took a supply of Rolling Rock pony bottles on vacation. That way, we could finish the six-ounce bottle before it got warm. Funny the things my kids remember. In 1970, when our Steve was born, Ed and Betty stood as his godparents at St. Pius X church in Bowie.
Sometime during those years, we each bought building sites at Palm Coast, Florida, and had many outstanding vacations at the Sheraton Palm Coast resort. Property owners had an unbelievable deal there: $15.00 per night (it’s still hard to believe), and we took advantage of it every year.
In 1975, we moved back to WDC and found a rental home in McLean, Virginia. Our visits between McLean and Wayne were even more frequent than they had been between Bowie and Wayne. A special remembrance of that time was our ski trip to Bryce Mountain, where we rented an A-Frame chalet, with a loft and a fireplace, on top of the mountain.
In 1977, we moved back to Miami, and our vacations continued at Palm Coast, and eventually moved to Sanibel Island.
We cruised together to Bermuda, the Panama Canal, and the Baltic, but the best cruise of all was our river cruise on the Rhine after visiting son Bob and his family in Holland. We cruised from Amsterdam to Basel, Switzerland and then went by train to Paris (where we spent five days), then to Brugge, Belgium for a couple days. It was by far the best trip the Dades and McKennas ever made together.
During our cruise on the Baltic in 2005, Ed was not feeling at all well. I remember trying to convince him that he needed exercise, and should spend time every day in the fully equipped exercise room on the ship, but to no avail. He just felt lousy and had a difficult time walking. In spite of his not feeling well, he insisted on accompanying me on a kayak tour in Copenhagen. In retrospect, I don’t know how he was able to do that.
On our return from the Baltic cruise, Ed was diagnosed with prostate cancer, which too quickly spread throughout his body. He was gone within a year. During my penultimate visit with Ed, during his last hospital stay, he asked me to take him (actually his ashes) out to the sea buoy (the buoy that marks the entrance to the St. John’s River and the Mayport Naval Station in Jacksonville, Florida). I told him he shouldn’t be thinking like that and promised he could accompany me to the sea buoy in one of my extra kayaks as soon as he was up to it.
The miracle we were all praying for never materialized (at least not as we had envisioned it), and Ed left us, on September 5, 2006. I took his ashes out to the sea buoy, on August 10, 2007. Although it was one of the most difficult things I have ever done, it felt right. I visit his watery grave as often as I am able, and often feel his presence. I did today, Friday April 11, 2008.
Ed was not only a great husband and father; he was a great friend - a best friend - and I miss him.
(On the way to the buoy with Ed)
(Ed's final resting place) REQUIESCAT IN PACE
(Algernon Charles Swinburne)
Note: Not long after spreading Ed’s ashes at the sea buoy, I went back there to visit the site and something very strange happened on the way. I have seen numerous giant sea turtles on my kayak trips, and can tell you from experience that it is next to impossible to get close to them. I have, on occasion, come upon one from the rear and have been able to very quietly paddle to within a few feet, but as soon as the turtle hears or feels anything getting close, it drops its head and goes vertical - straight down, not to be seen again. On this trip to visit Ed’s grave, I was within a short distance of the buoy when all of a sudden a giant sea turtle surfaced right next to the port side of my kayak, and stared up at me for what seemed a long time. I was totally shocked, and simply sat there and stared back. Though tempted to pat my unexpected visitor on his head, my instincts told me it would be better to return to the beach with both hands attached to my arms. After a few minutes he just drifted off and went vertical. It was one of the strangest things that has happened to me in my kayak, and I have to feel that Ed had something to do with it.
(Click on photos to enlarge)
