I made my way further south to the
coast where I settled into a
community of
Greeks …
…..
a small island of Greek
culture apart from the surrounding
world …
…..
people who searched for
sponges in the warm waters of the
Gulf, built boats and told
endless stories through the
ancient language of
beauty and
thought …
…..
Stories that captivated my
mind even though I didn’t understand a
word … .
…..
Their
words … ?… music to my
ears …
melody and cadence that rose and fell
filled … I supposed … with
adventure and
humor … the
details
hidden from my mind yet,
endlessly interesting or
hilariously
funny …
…..
like an
adventurer from
another land might feel at first
encounter with
blues music,
captivated by its power but
unknowing of it’s
history or
intent …..
…..
I spent most of my days working
between the giant chalks that
held the 70 foot
shrimp boats above ground …
… we hauled from the water with thick cables
over
railroad tracks below the
shore
line …
…..
giving maintenance to
their hulls …
scraping barnacles from their
underbellies,
filling their cracked seams with
braids of cotton pounded in
with a wooden
maul
then …
…..
… dressing them out with coats of
copper paint before returning them to
gulf waters after a few days of
R and R …
Kurt Struble Writing 