My Crazy ‘Mancation’ Idea

"Take your dad on a cruise!”

Has an idea to bless someone you love ever popped into your head like a delicate, fragile bubble blown gently by a breeze?

Did you carefully consider the idea, examining its contours from multiple angles to determine if it’s a surprising gift your loved one will never forget? Or did you do what I usually do, dismiss the idea as a crazy far-fetched, unrealistic, overly expensive daydream?

Our day-to-day practicality puts jagged edges on our ideas to express the depths of our feelings for those we love. Our practicality tells us we will connect sometime when we have time — until time runs out.

Several years ago, a bubble with my Dad’s name and smiling face crossed the screen that is my mind. This is a story about what I did with that.

The whisper

I waited in line at a Starbucks in Portland, Oregon, to order my favorite mid-afternoon caffeinated drink, a Caramel Macchiato. Something or someone — whether God, a tiny elf or my subconscious, I do not know — whispered faintly in my inner ear:

Huh?

“I'm too busy. I can't afford it. What a nutty idea,” I tried to tell myself.

Message received.

A Mancation?

I was 36, living in Oregon, with a job, a wife, three children, a mortgage to pay and a lawn I would soon have to fertilize. Dad, disabled from an accident he suffered as an ironworker (falling two stories), was 64, living with Mom in Stevens Point, Wisconsin, in the house where I was raised.

Yet the idea of a father-son "mancation" would not leave me.

After getting the surprising green light from my wife, I sheepishly called Dad to make my pitch.

ME: "Hey, Dad, I've got a crazy idea."

DAD: "What's that?"

ME: "Let's go on a cruise together, just you and me!"

“There is a catch”

Long pause. What was he thinking? Might he say no?

I nervously filled the silence like a salesman.

ME: "Dad, this is no joke. It occurred to me that we haven't had father-son times like we used to before I got married and had kids. I miss that. I know you can't golf anymore, but I found some cheap cruises leaving Miami. I'm thinking 80-some degrees in February, with all-you-can-eat buffets and a casino. Maybe you can try to teach me your blackjack tips again."

DAD: "Wow. I don't know. Sounds interesting. I'm sort of stunned."

ME: "There is a catch, Dad."

DAD: "What's that?"

ME: "YOU have to pay for it.

We both chuckled.

After Christmas, my funds are a bit low. All I have is a frequent-flyer voucher. I could meet you in Miami."

DAD: "What the hell. You only live once.

Let's do it!"

ME: Really?

DAD: “Yeah.”

Big buffets and blackjack tables

Our ship: The Carnival Ecstasy. Image: Wikipedia.

The Carnival cruise ship Ecstacy departed the Port of Miami on February 2, 1997, with a crew of 920 and more than 2,000 passengers. It was 80 degrees and sunny.

We had the time of our lives. We ate from huge buffets. Dad went back for seconds. Sometimes thirds. He gambled at the casino and won. He gave me a crisp $20 bill from the ATM and said, "See what you can do at the blackjack table." I lost his money in less than 30 minutes but felt the glow of a renewing relationship increasing by the minute.

Bad jokes and old stories

We sat in a hot tub one night. He told stories I had heard many times before. I didn't mind this time.

Dad took his fashion cues from GQ, Grandfathers Quarterly. Photo: Author.

We discussed my career, Wisconsin sports, grandchildren and theology. He was comfortable and curious when talking about faith.

As a young man, he went to a Catholic seminary to explore the possibility of becoming a priest. He often joked that I could call him "Father."

Dad never missed Sunday Mass and helped younger men in AA stay sober, among other acts of service. I asked him in that hot tub if he knew where he would go when he died. He said he didn't. It depended on how many unconfessed sins were on his soul and whether they were cardinal, mortal or venial.

An ocean of forgiveness

I told him I was confident about my destination because Jesus had paid the price for my sins. He bought my ticket to heaven, just like Dad had prepaid my cabin and meals for the cruise.

"I wish I could believe that for myself. But I'm glad for you," Dad said.

On one glorious afternoon at sea, we laughed on deck, the wind rippling through what was left of Dad's greying hair. A stronger wind seemed to sweep our past hurts and division into the warm Caribbean air, letting them drop to the bottom of an ocean of forgiveness, where they could cause no more harm.

I felt his love. He felt mine.

Tears of sadness and joy

At MIA, we prepared to board separate planes. I saw tears well in Dad's eyes -- tears of joy, gratitude and sadness that our father-son mancation was ending.

That’s me on the right, ready for our fancy dinner. Photo: Author.

"I can't believe we did this," Dad said. I could hardly believe it myself.

He extended his once-strong but now somewhat frail arms to embrace me. Our chests touched in a man-to-man hug for several uncomfortable but beautiful seconds.

DAD: “I love you. I’m proud of you.”

ME: “Love you, too, Dad. Maybe you can take me on a cruise every year!”

We both laughed.

I felt 10 pounds lighter on my flight home, which was impossible considering those all-you-can-eat buffets.

Little did I know

The call came four months later.

Mom went outside to spend a few minutes in her garden, and when she returned to the house, she found his body on the floor. His soul was already in heaven. A blood clot ended his life in an instant.

Today (February 24) is his birthday. He would have turned 92.

I can still hear his hearty laugh on that deck if I close my eyes and deeply breathe the salty sea air.

I shall never forget my crazy, impractical, nutty idea of taking Dad on a cruise.

The next time you hear a faint whisper to bless someone you love, take a moment to consider it.