by John Loofbourow, MD

Fred was over 80 years old, and so was his friend Bob. They had known one another since childhood in Hawaii. Life had separated them at the age of 11, yet they kept in touch, as was the habit of their generation, through a lifetime of letters and an occasional brief meeting. Both had sailed when growing up; but while Bob had not been able to do so later in life, Fred held a captain's rating, with extensive experience on the oceans of the world. The scion of a banking family, Fred had retired in Texas after a long and formidable career in electronics. Bob was a semi-retired mining engineer, who still occasionally consulted from his home-office. During the two prior summers, Bob and Fred had made trips in the area preparing for "the last big sail." Those who had accompanied them returned with many fears for the safety of the old friends, and an unshakable determination not to enlist again.

The experience and planning were Fred's. The recruitment of sailing companions and local arrangements for rental of the 42 foot sloop were Bob's. In addition to the two octogenarian principals, the crew consisted of Jim, a retired businessman about 70 years old, Michael (the baby), a 45 year old Welsh geologist who was an avid student of any and all edible sea life, and myself, a 55 year old ED physician. I was included in part because both Fred's and Bob's families had asked me to go along in the event medical assistance was needed. It is a familiar role for me, one I enjoy although in such situations I am the only one without a doctor.

Fred and Bob planned to sail out of Bellingham Washington, past the San Juan Islands, up the Inland Passage East of Vancouver Is land, across the Hecate Straits to the Queen Charlotte Islands, back Northeast to Prince Rupert to refurbish, and then down the West side of Vancouver Island returning by way of the Straits of Juan de Fuca. The route was tempting. I had grown to love the sea on a US Navy Seaplane Tender. Furthermore, I have always been fascinated by active and alert people of advanced age. It is nearly impossible for one generation to fully understand another, especially where attitudes and values are concerned. Here were two old Americans who had seen or been actively participant in nearly all the major events of this century. To watch them, to hear them, to be with them day and night for 15 days... how could one resist the invitation? Moreover, I knew these octogenarians to be at diametrically opposed ends of the political and religious spectrum, to be far apart in economic terms, and in terms of their physical life style. What was the basis for their lifetime friendship?

The 42 foot sloop was trim and sound looking, and it had been approved by a professional sailor friend of Bob's. We loaded easily with help from dubious well-wishers, and got under weigh by mid morning. After some instruction, drill and shakedown work, it seemed to Fred that both the crew and ship were adequate. There was little wind, so in order to make Canadian Customs early we motored much of the first afternoon. The cruise was not without some drama: a night spent on the hull with the ship heeled over on its side after the tide went out: an unwise night crossing of the Hecate Straits with following gale winds. (We took two hour watches in pairs, one team member at the helm and the other crewing, both always tied with safety lines. Each shift was the same for me. Awakened from restless sleep while strapped to the bunk below, it required five minutes to get on my outer gear, standing in the wash of water and reeling from the buffeting of the seas. By the time I was dressed I would vomit. The same sequence of events occurred when I returned at the end of the watch): A problem with the engine which we were able to resolve: and nearly running out of beer.

But for the most part it was an unforgettable journey in rain forest wrapped waters filled with the season's luxuriating sea life, under fair winds alive with summertime birds. Fred, a man inclined to be driving and impatient, was for once a relaxed and easy captain, agreeing to anchor by 6PM or so to enjoy the slow still sunsets, and the cool starlit nights on plankton-phosphorescent seas. Every evening Michael would go out in the small boat and catch something, then come back and prepare it, often with seaweeds of different kinds. After studying the lay of the land and the wind and water, he always knew what could be caught or found and where. When Fred and Bob were young they had to memorize a good deal of poetry. The long northern summer evenings were filled with song and poetry, and stories. Fred could recite with great eloquence and dramatic emphasis. Bob likewise but he would weep while quoting anything the least bit emotive, which was most of it of course.

Despite their mutual affection, and the fact that they were both classical romantics, of their generation, Bob and Fred had lived very different lives, according to different values. Every day, a few hours before laying up for the night, Fred began to drink beer, and by the time we anchored he had consumed a dozen cans. He was a ponderous overweight man, and the drinking seemed to have little effect on his sharp churchillian wit. His devotion to the brew did not flag until about 11 PM when he began to drift off to sleep, after some ten or twelve more cans. The only real crisis we had on the trip was nearly running out, causing us to make an unwanted emergency beer run. With Bob it was carrots and peanut butter, but he had laid in such a large supply that there was never any danger of running out. Not that Bob was didn't drink, but he only could tolerate one or two every few days. Since he couldn't run, Bob did an astonishing array of exercises on the foredeck each day.

As to politics, Bob was a Walden Pond conservative, abstemious to a fault. Waste not. Borrow not. Keep an old car indefinitely. Don't use the new jacket until the old is completely in shreds. Roosevelt and the New Deal irreversibly corrupted voters and politicians. Russia is the evil empire. Vote Republican but not religious right if it can be helped. Though he was the son of a Methodist Minister Bob avoided churches most of his life, yet held himself to a harshly rigorous moral code. Fred lived and loved the good life. He was a radical socialist, a wealthy intellectual, who worked generously to promote communism here. Fred was interested in religion ( the opiate of the masses) only enough to be an aggressive atheist. He was beautifully schooled in the classics, a lover of fine music, art, and food. He was able to hold forth at length on almost any subject, rewarding the listener with rich and colorful detail.

Bob had worked his way through college, living in a car as a freshman. A ranked mile runner, he continued to run at age 84. Although he only sprinted in short bursts and jogged for long spells, his daily run lasted nearly 40 minutes, and as a result he could still eat generously while remaining trim. Fred was sedentary, big bellied, slow of foot. Yet these two old friends deeply admired and loved one another. Bob admired Fred for his intelligence, his urbanity, his business acumen. Fred admired Bob for his goodness, his health, his disposition. Each could forgive his friend of seventy years anything, even that which in a son would be deeply hurtful. The love of old friends can be more tolerant, less self-interested, than that of parent and child.

As fine a journey as the cruise was, the more unusual adventure was internal. It was to sense, to measure, the power and beauty of lifelong friendship. It was to perceive how vast, yet how inevitable, is the distance from one generation to another. As corollary, to discover how strong are the bonds among those of the same generation, who shared schools, wars, depressions, and certain myths, and dreams. One of these old men is my own father. Despite their differences, when they had this particular moment in time together, in the waning days of that summer, in the deepening shadows of their lives, they reveled in shared truth, and ignored all the rest. Find, and hold fast to your old friends. Friends can bring to life a sweetness, a loving kindness that is not possible or even appropriate in any other relationship.