THE MOTHER SHIP

In celebration with love of the 75th birthday of my mother Jean Ann Van Kleek Pettigrew

Not only mother of three, and grandmother of eight but educator, mentor, organiser and most of all: creator, of words, of ideas, of enthusiasm

December 2, 2005

The mother ship sits at anchor for much of her life, While all around her preparations are made by those corsairs, those frigates, and those caravelles she has inspired: To leave her safe harbor and go to their Destiny. They know little of how she came there, Her keel hewn from solid oak from far off lands, Her sails tattered, scars of war with man and nature, Sparkling mornings in foreign ports - A proud launch from her own shipyard And the glint of an idea in a naval architect's mind. They know little of her captains, the cargo she has borne, The creaking of her timbers in fair sea and foul. They sail to their own fate, their design a part of her hidden knowledge, Their course, their stars, their destiny entwined with hers. And little do they realize that once they have safely left, She too will slip anchor and set her own course - Her job done, but her life far from over. She too will have her own story to tell Full of mountainous seas and shimmering lagoons, With howling gales bending her mast and zephyrs tickling her shrouds, With courses both charted and providential, And shanties to sing and oceans to cross. She too will sail to seas unknown and one day perhaps Return home to put down anchor. And in the twilight regale them with tales of a life worth living Which is hers to share - And theirs also... Forever the mother ship.