My Compass and Anchor to Windward (eBook)

A Story of Love, Imagination and Adventure

Eleanor Byrd (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2022 | 1. Auflage
588 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
978-1-6678-2764-3 (ISBN)

Infos

My Compass and Anchor to Windward is the story of Admiral Richard E. Byrd and his wife, Marie recounting their lives from the time they met at 8-years old until he died in 1957. As their granddaughter, I have private letters, family stories, and archives of information at my disposal. The future Admiral was a dreamer and risk-taker with a rascally personality and adventuresome spirit, reminiscent of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. Dick had ADHD; his father fearing he'd never be able to keep the boy alive, reprimanded him many times over for his 'foolish and reckless deviltry.' Later, Marie's mother opposed their marrying fearing Dick would meet his end sooner rather than later. Marie knew was that life with Dick would never be boring; a calm, intelligent, structured, loving, and strong woman, she was his compass and anchor to windward; only she could pull the reins in on him, most of the time. For those who have this diagnosis or are parents of children with ADHD, not a deficit of attention; it is a surplus, this book will bring tremendous insight into the mind, actions, and successes one can have despite the label. Throughout the story, there are many near-death mishaps, immense creativity and foresight, daring 1st flights over the North and South Poles, water ditching a plane off the coast of France, arresting insurgents in the Philippines (as a 13 yr. old), political intrigue with FDR and Winston Churchill, WWII battles, the Atomic Bomb, and more. This book will take the reader on the ride of a lifetime, wondering what could happen next? Within it all, there was the everlasting love between Dick and Marie that romance readers will admire. Full of fun with a couple who were great practical jokers, teens and adults alike will enjoy the high adventure, excitement, romance, spirituality, heroics, and humor of their lives. Individuals with ADHD are bright, creative, and funny, often using self-deprecating humor to remind the world that perfection is wholly uninterestin

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It was 1896 when Rear Admiral Richard E. Byrd and Marie Ames met. They were 8-years-old; she from Boston, MA, and he from Winchester, VA. Even at 8-years-old, the future Admiral was a dreamer and risk-taker, with a rascally nature and adventuresome spirit reminiscent of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. Being brought up to be a Boston Brahmin, Marie found her life dull so naturally gravitated to Dick, and his need for a calm like-minded friend was drawn to Marie. Henceforth, they were best friends. Richard was the first to fly over the North and South Poles. He organized and ran the 1st and 2nd Antarctic scientific expeditions in 1928 and 1933, he and his men wintering over in temperatures as low as .6 F. He then went on to do secret missions during WWII for the navy and much more. Marie and Richard remained firmly united as they courted, married, raised children, and lived through umpteen scares and adventures. Marie exhibited more courage than one could imagine due to his many risk-taking exploits. Still, no matter, the love letters between them are extraordinarily romantic and link them to historical events known to the public and international events not known. Marie lived with the pressures of raising four children essentially alone, in the public eye, during the Depression and succeeded in protecting her children from kidnapping threats. The couple's love and respect for each other endured; acceptance for each other's strengths and weaknesses as well as delightful senses of humor and antics between them, they survived to old age and passed quietly.

Textauszug

CHAPTER 1

Summer
Winchester, VA 1896

Dick and Marie entered the world at a time when trains were the fastest means of travel, telephones were a novelty, electricity was still the plaything of inventors, horses were the normal daily means of transportation, and most Americans regarded human flight as impossible. The United States, like other countries, was industrializing rapidly, but it was not yet recognized as a great power among the industrial nations of the world. And much of that world was still unknown, with vast areas around its poles appearing on maps as empty white spaces.

Marie was born to Joseph Blanchard Ames and Helen Andrews Ames. Helen’s ancestry dated back to four Mayflower passengers and England. Joseph’s family originated in England and, most prominently, with Captain John Ames, a blacksmith, who in 1771 began America’s first metal shovel company when America was breaking with England. In rebellion, colonists struck out with a ban on British-made goods in refusing metal tools. To wit, the Ames Company was still a very successful company.

Marie, her sister Katherine, and their parents lived in Brookline, Massachusetts in a brownstone house near Cleveland Circle. Born into what was known as the Boston Brahmin Elite, whose forefathers formed the fundamental historic core of the East Coast, these members included surnames such as Cabot, Adams, Endicott, Lowell, Lodge, Emerson, and more. As such, Marie was expected to behave in the manner of enlightened aristocracy. When grown she would be expected to cultivate the arts, support charities such as hospitals and colleges, and assume the role of community leader. As a city girl with only a tiny fenced in backyard, she was confined unless she and her sister Katherine were escorted to the park, to school, or shopping. Her mother fox hunted on weekends with the Myopia Hunt on the North Shore. Marie went on hunts when young riders were allowed to participate for the day. She loved to ride to the hounds but mostly, at eight years old, she loved her pony and being in the country for the day. There, she was somewhat free from the rigid structure of Brahmin society. In the summer, she visited her Ames grandparents in Swampscott, a beautiful and tranquil seaside community located 15 miles northeast of Boston or visited her Andrews’s grandmother in Winchester, Virginia staying at the Chanticleer Inn on West Boscawen Street.

* * *

Winchester, with its wide, dusty dirt roads, lush meadows and miles of apple orchards, never failed to entice young boys to use their imaginations. For Dick Byrd and his brothers, Harry and Tom, life also included their family forefathers — dating back to William Byrd I on their father’s side and Pocahontas on their mother’s side. The boys lived in a large mansard roofed Victorian house on Amherst Street, near enough to the town train tracks to wave to the engineer when a train rumbled through. The home had a garden and a large barn in the back that housed horses and ponies, which they rode with vigor — especially when reenacting Civil War cavalry raids, patrols or an occasional reconnaissance for whoever was picked as General Lee or Stonewall Jackson for that day.

One summer day in 1896, the three Byrd boys were wrestling in the living room. Judy, the family’s fox terrier, was barking and jumping on the pile of bodies. This was a common occurrence among them, especially at their ages. Harry, the oldest and most studious, was ten, followed by Dick, who was eight and venturesome, and then Tom at age six, the most introspective.

Bolling, the boys’ mother, was in the kitchen preparing food and drink to entertain new visitors when she heard the commotion. Wrestling and fighting were important kills to be earned and she allowed it in the house. But today, as visitors were coming, she needed order. Wiping her hands on her apron, she headed into the living room.

“Boys! Boys!” Bolling yelled and clapped her hands through the din. “I need you to run down to the store and pick up a box of groceries from Mr. Frederick.”

“Gosh, do we have to?” Tom said from the bottom of the pile.

“Yes, we have new guests coming. Mrs. Ames and her two lovely young girls from Boston will be here. I need you to do this for me and please, stay clean!”

“Aw gee, Ma,” Dickie grunted, his right arm holding Tom in a headlock.

“Not another word. Now, you all get on down to the store before it gets too late.” As she shooed the three bare footed boys out the door along with the dog, she thought about Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn published just 12 years before. Watching the three, she mumbled to herself, “Three Huckleberry’s…I should receive the Medal of Honor for raising these boys!”

“Do we really have to meet those girls?” Dickie asked Harry as they walked along the dirt road, avoiding piles of manure left by horses pulling buggies and carriages.

“Mother would kill us if we didn’t do this and get home on time”.

“Ugh, girls,” Tom said with a sour face. Even if he did like some girls, which he did, it would be against the code of boyhood to admit it. At six years old, he knew this for a fact.

“It’s only for a couple of hours,” Harry said.

As they walked, Tom and Dick discussed various options for avoidance, while Harry maintained his straight line to the store and reiterated their duty to be there. Dickie became bored and slowly started to veer, distracted by different sights, sounds and thoughts; Judy followed. Spotting a tree that looked suitable for climbing, Dickie was up in it before Tom could stop him.

“Get down, Dickie! We have to go!”

Dickie ignored his younger brother and created a challenge for himself by balancing on the branches. “I’m a tightrope artist!” he yelled back and walked farther and farther out on a large limb — arms outstretched, bare feet gripping. His thin, narrow frame followed the branch, which became smaller and springier. He stopped, balanced and slowly bounced. The branch went up and down and then a larger downward swing caused the branch to sway left on its way back up. He teetered to the right, flung one leg out to balance, then caught himself and remained still until the branch slowed. “Ta-da!”

“Tarnation, Dickie! Stop before you fall! Pop will kill you if you do!”

“He couldn’t cause I’d already be dead!” Dickie laughed. Leaping to a neighboring branch, he swung his legs high, then dropped to the ground, landing on his feet.

Tom was still yelling at Dickie about the tree stunt, when suddenly Dickie stopped.

“Look!” He pointed in the direction of Harry who was in an all-out fight with a redheaded boy. The two were off like a shot towards the row with Judy leading the way. Dickie jumped the boy from behind, wrapped his legs and arms around the boy’s waist and neck. He held tight, careful to keep his head away from the punches Harry was delivering. Tom took shots at all the remaining areas on the redhead’s body available to him. Falling to the ground, the bully seemed to quickly realize he was overmatched. “I give! I give!” he yelled. Judy continued to bark and jump over the four of them until Dickie told her to hush.

The three brothers eased up, cautiously moving to their feet and standing over the redhead. “You done?” Harry asked.

The boy touched fingers to his bloodied lip and sighed. “Yep…who are you guys anyway?”

“The Byrd boys and don’t forget it!” Tom said.

“I won’t.”

“Who are you?” asked Harry.

“Jeb. We just moved here from Atlanta.” Jeb slowly stood and wiped his bloody nose.

Harry said, “Well, we’ll see you around then. Come on guys, we have to get going.”

“What was the fight about?” Dickie asked.

“He called me ‘sister’ and wouldn’t move out of my way when I tried to go around him.”

The bedraggled Byrd trio headed into the store, picked up the groceries, and started for home. They knew they were late and dirty but the feeling of victory blinded their worries of mother but still ran the last few yards to the house and bounded into the kitchen. Harry quietly placed the box of groceries on the farm table. Their mother’s voice from the living room told them that the guests from Boston had already arrived.

“Remember troops, we only have to do this for a little while and then we’ll be free,” Harry whispered. They all took a deep breath and looked at each other as if they were about to walk into battle. Leading the way, Harry pushed the kitchen door open with Tom right behind him, and then Dick, who straggled behind.

Bolling took one look at her sons’ bloodied and dirtied bodies and said, “Excuse me, Mrs. Ames, Marie and Helen.”

Bolling marched over to the boys and looked sternly at the three. “I asked you all for one thing!” she said angrily. “Do any of you remember what that was?”

“Um…to bring you the groceries?” Tom said. Harry kicked him, wondering...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 10.2.2022
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Biografien / Erfahrungsberichte
• ISBN-10: 1-6678-2764-2 / 1667827642
• ISBN-13: 978-1-6678-2764-3 / 9781667827643