There’s this thing on Facebook these days called Throw-Back Thursday, or TBT for short, where old farts like me post pics of past times, past glories, past hairdos. In spite of my better judgement, I’m indulging this trend to a certain extent… I guess revisiting the past is satisfying enough if not overdone.
Here’s a pic from the late 60s, I’m guessing, of one of the greatest and longest-running paddle-wheelers, the Belle of Louisville, shored-up next to my Dad’s houseboat, the Susan Elaine (named for my little sister) somewhere on the Ohio River, probably near Madison, IN. The old man (posing for the camera on the front deck) designed this boat to resemble the river tugs he so loved. Tugboat captains often showed their appreciation with low, mournful horn blasts and a slow wave of the hand as they passed us by.
The Susan Elaine was 65′ long, had 5 staterooms, 1.5 baths, and a full-size kitchen (at the request of Mom), and was powered by a single-screw 465 Hemi and an on-demand generator. I, of course, was designated as 1st mate, and for many years Dad and I spent a lot of quality time on her, cruising up and down the Ohio and wintering at our riverfront farm at Bethlehem, IN. It’s how we rolled back in the old days.
I never thought much of it at the time, but I’ve come to realize how blessed I was to have had all those golden times as a boy growing up on the river. So many memories… I remember how I used to pilot the 12′ dinghy (with my old dog Duchess as my companion) in the wake of the Belle and the Delta Queen more times than I can count, slowly mounting those massive paddle-wheel waves to plummet down into the trough, water flying all around us. Pretty damned exciting, now that I think of it.
In quieter times, I used to sit up in the pilothouse for hours practicing guitar, my feet propped up on the spokes of the wheel and watching the river flow by. I savored the solitude and the timelessness of those sessions. Spending five hours nonstop at work on my instrument seemed effortless… it was all about the music for me in those days, and the music seemed as eternal and limitless as the river itself, and just as alive.
I sometimes wonder whatever became of the SE. Dad got older, we all got older, I got more involved with being a young adult and had less inclination for the slowness of river life (what fools young adults can be). A time came when Dad’s passion for the river was marginalized by other aspects of his existence, and he decided to let go of the houseboat life. And just like that, an era in our family’s history abruptly ended. Isn’t that just the way….
But the Susan Elaine was a fine vessel, I remember her fondly, she was the centerpiece for most of the best times between my father and me, and over the many years since I saw her for the last time I’ve often wished she’d stayed in the family. I could live there.
