'Wishing Will Make It So

Life On The Big Pond

Said Mrs. Edmunds

One of a series by Bill Dame

Mrs. Edmunds was in her sixties and was a recently re tired fourth grade teacher from Nebraska. She was a small, intense woman who had about her a “no nonsense” aura that most teachers seem to develop early in their career—and her retirement hadn’t included the relinquishing of that authoritative mantle.

Accustomed to having her way in the classroom for over 40 years, she boarded the ship in Los Angeles fully expecting to see a whale before reaching Sydney three weeks later.

The budding tragedy lay in the facts that whales had never had to cope with Mrs. Edmunds’ wishes before and that whales are where you find them.

Everyone aboard soon knew of Mrs. Edmunds’ quest and by the third day at sea her frustration was obvious. It was generally assumed that this was the first time in her life that she was out of control of the situation.

Up before dawn

Mrs. Edmunds would be up before dawn and would spend the day look ing for whales. She had breakfast and lunch on deck and stayed well aft where she could scan the sea on both sides of the ship. She used binoculars frequently to study distant whitecaps and kept her camera ready for quick action.

During the heat of the day she sat under an umbrella and knitted, her eyes moving methodically from flashing needles to port, then to starboard, and then back again.

“There are whales out here and I’m going to see one of them,” she said whenever anyone stopped to visit with her. “I read a ton of books about the sea and whales before I left Nebraska and I believe in positive thinking. There’s an old song that explains it well. It’s called Wishing Will Make It So. It goes like this: ‘lf you wish long enough, wish strong enough, it will come true. Wishing will make it so’.”

The captain and his inspection party stopped to chat with Mrs.

Edmunds one morning when the voyage was well into its second week and the captain said, “Mrs. Edmunds, I have officers on the bridge at all times. Whenever a whale or anything of interest is sighted, the information is announced on the loud speaker.

Why don’t you relax? Perhaps you’d like to see the movie this afternoon!”

Mrs. Edmunds replied that she could see movies in Nebraska, but not whales.

Two days before we reached Sydney, a Tasman storm made Mrs.

Edmunds seek shelter in the Promenade Deck foyer. Those few people who spoke to her reported that her usual alertness was beginning to fade a little and that her deter mined face was beginning to show traces of disappointment.

The next morning the sea was still rough, but as the day progressed the storm was left behind and clear skies and no wind made the afternoon sparkle with a freshness and beauty that cheered the spirit. By late after noon the ship was cutting across a pane of brilliant blue glass unmarred by ripples ahead.

Taunts

About an hour before sunset the small doubter stopped near Mrs.

Edmunds and taunted, “There ain’t no whales, there ain’t no whales. . .

Mrs. Edmunds was quick to answer. “If you were in my class I’d have you write the correct sentence on the blackboard fifty times. You don’t say ‘ain’t no’, you say ‘aren’t any’. There aren’t any whales!”

But she took a lingering look at the sea and walked slowly to a deck chair where she sat down heavily, removed her hearing aid and went soundly to sleep.

And then, of course, it happened The loud speaker cracked alive “Ladies and gentlemen, we’d like tc call your attention to a pod of whale: just ahead. They’ll be on our star board side in a few minutes”.

Asleep

The rails were quickly lined witl excited passengers, but Mrs. Edmund continued to sleep.

The engines were cut and the shij coasted along with the slow forwan progress of the whales, their massiv< forms showing plainly in the glassy sea, their high spouting a never-to-be forgotten experience.

“Where is Mrs. Edmunds? When is she?” Everyone on deck asked th same question. When she was found she was spoken to loudly; still sb slept. She was yelled at; then ; savage shaking of her by anothe lady roused her and the lady pointei seaward and shouted, “Whales!”

The crowd that had gathere instinctively parted so that Mr; Edmunds could see the water goliaths which were now directly i front of her and very close to th ship. They were practically wavin their flukes and dorsal fins an grinning as hundreds of camera clicked.

“Give her her camera!” someon ordered excitedly, and Mrs. Edmund knitting bag was thrust into he nervous hands. She fumbled for th camera, and the fumbling sent he ball of yarn rolling across the decl She finally raised the camera, bi it was hopelessly ensnared in he knitting. She pulled frantically at th yam to free the camera and in he haste dropped her knitting overboarc The ship’s photographer suddenl appeared and with deft movement quickly freed the camera and place it in her hands.

She raised it and clicked. She too pictures until her roll was finishe and the ship had begun to pick u speed. She posed regally against th rail as the photographer captured he and her whale ballet forever i deathless Kodachrome.

She stayed on deck victorious, lo: in her own thoughts while watchin the whales disappear in the shipi wake, until dusk hid the horizon.