"All on deck, people, make sure your safety lines are on", the Captain said, "Let's get it done!" My job was to get topside ready for the transfer, then watch the Helicopter's rear rotor, just in case it got close to the deck. The weather is not getting any better. 20 foot waves,  and it's hitting 50 feet, up the Sub's sail. Footing is bad, the spray is like ice pellets. We kneel down on  the deck  for each wave, so as not to get hit. I hook up two safety lines together, each about 4 1/2 feet long. Most times only one line is used, but I need room to get out of the way of the chopper's  rotors if need be. The Chopper is late. I am soaked to the bone. The weather is getting worse, and the foul weather gear must weight a ton. Finally, the Helicopter arrives. The crew readies for the Chopper's drop line. The pilot is having difficulty, due to the storm. He backs off and tries again,  No Luck!

Finally, after five attempts, the pilot gets a good run on the deck. Other members move to the dropline. As they reach it, the sea pitches the Sub up and the Chopper drops, it hits the deck. Men dive for cover, I dive for safety. Up forward, a man goes overboard, on the opposite side from me. The boat rolls to Port as I pinwheel across the side of the tanks. This causes the safety line to coil around my legs and now I am pinned, upside down, on my back. My body is underwater from my head to my knees. I do a sit-up, take a gulp of air. I drop back and roll. I try to push up, but can't. The propeller is pushing water right at me. I try again with another sit-up. NO go. I can't get up high enough to grab anything. The foul weather gear is too heavy!  I begin to get weaker and weaker. I look up through the water and see a figure moving down toward me.

I feel a tug, suddenly I am out of the water, on my stomach. I find a drain hole and hold on for dear life. It was a while before fellow crew members came back and hauled me, back up onto the deck. I was taken to the Engine Room and given a "prescription" of medicinal brandy. The Captain came to check on me and the other crew member who had gone overboard. Fortunately for him. he was rescued. Later, at the end of the After Incident meeting, I asked," Who came back and yanked me out of the water?" No one spoke. "I want to thank the one who pulled me out, who did it?" Still, no one stepped up.  I said, "Must be the brandy."

In the car, Elise began to talk about a classmate who had recently moved away. In her hand, she carried a recent birthday gift of a "Spottie Dottie," Dalmatian pencil case. Elise related that Brittany, the friend who had moved away, loved the character "Spottie Dottie." It was evident to me that my 9 year old daughter was going to miss seeing her friend at school and was feeling a little blue. I remembered that Brittany's grandparents lived close by. Perhaps we could call them sometime and ask them to let us know when Brittany would be in town.

Maybe Elise and Brittany could get together and play then. My search for yellow roses that day led me to a florist 15 miles away, noted for their beautiful arrangements and as it turned out, the best price to be had! Returning from this florist, I found myself on a road near the home supply store where my husband, Don, had gone earlier. I told Elise we would stop at the store to see if Dad was still there, instead of going straight home. Elise continued to talk about her friend Brittany throughout our entire car trip together.

As I turned onto the road to the home supply store, I remembered that Brittany's grandparents lived somewhere on that particular street. No sooner had those words popped out of my mouth, when I saw Brittany come out the door of a house! I turned the wheel and found myself in the driveway of Brittany's grandparents' home. Brittany's grandmother was washing a car and dropped the hose she was holding to come over to see who had pulled in to her driveway. Brittany raced down the steps from where she was standing, because she could see Elise, her friend, in the car.

 Brittany's 2 younger brothers ran from underneath a large tree in the side yard, where they had been playing. Her grandmother and 2 brothers were now standing next to my car. Seconds later, a tremendous CRACK was heard and a huge section of the tree in the side yard came crashing down. Part of the tree had fallen across the side of the house where Brittany had stood on the stairs moments before. The rest of the section of tree lay in huge pieces at the exact location where Brittany's brothers had been playing when we pulled up. I felt that Brittany's brothers would have been killed instantly. Brittany's grandmother was very shaken by the event. Elise and I stayed with the family until Brittany's mother arrived on the scene. Neighbors came running from all directions. There were many hugs and tears of relief shed.

When digging in the dirt, I could work out some frustrations, and the tears would flow, but somehow, for some reason, I was always more calm, planting, weeding and watching for Mother Nature to produce glorious blooms. My Father was cremated, and his remains were shipped to Honolulu, Hawaii... a place he dearly loved since his time in the Army in the early 1930's.  He died in October, but his remains were not shipped from Baltimore until December 18, 1983. His ashes were scattered on December 25, 1983. On a Sunday morning, following  the 18th of December, I was especially depressed, guess Christmas had something to do with  that too. Right after breakfast, I started to cry, for no apparent reason. Out of nowhere, I heard my Father's voice. He told me, "Nancy, look out the dining room window."

WOW,...  let me tell you, I was  ready to call the men in the White Coats, this was totally new to me, hearing a message from? who knows where. I ignored that "voice" for about an hour, then I heard it again." OK " I said to myself, open the darn drapes, and look outside at the rain, on a bitter  cold Northern California day."  When I did, I saw the most BEAUTIFUL YELLOW ROSE. One single blossom, that had not been there the day before. To complicate matters, it was blooming on a RED  ROSE bush, that had long ceased producing blooms for the winter. Later on I contacted local nurseries,  arboretums,  anyone who could help me to figure out  why I got a Yellow Rose, on an otherwise Red Rose bush. Each inquiry gave me the same response. This just doesn't happen, unless grafted. Nope, I had nothing to do with it. It  just happened.