Dancing in the sea

La Mer; Claude Debussy, composer; Boston Symphony Orchestra; Charles Munch, conducting

I have always had a susceptibility toward motion-sickness. The bus ride to school during my junior high years wreaked havoc on my, apparently, sensitive system. Thankfully, I developed a tolerance for the bus ride. But my proclivity for the “traveler’s” ailment didn’t go away entirely. When we left Outlaw Ranch out in the Black Hills of South Dakota to head home, I didn’t do too well on the curvy highway back to thankfully undeviating, straight-as-an-arrow Interstate 90.

The Golden Odyssey, the first of my eight or so cruise ships, sat small in the water when compared to other cruise ships of the day. I found out soon after casting off from the sweet, sweet, solid ground of the island of Venice into the beautiful Adriatic Sea that smaller, older cruise ships with no stabilizers bob around the water like a cork, up and down, back and forth, up and back, down and forth, up and forth, back and down … woof. That brought back memories. I learned to keep an eye on the weather reports in order to discern whether I should supplement my dinner with a Dramamine or two.

The Crown Odyssey had a bit more girth. And stabilizers. I did a little better on that ship. But in September of 1993, we sailed a few miles up the Bordeaux River. When I came up to the buffet for lunch, we had ourselves a windy day; something like twenty-five knots. A chap who worked in the casino informed me that remnants from Hurricane Emily were coming to visit. Well, wasn’t this exciting! Before we started rocking and rolling, the captain informed us that the local pilot, who would steer the Crown Odyssey out of the river and into the Bay of Biscay, would not disembark onto a pilot boat, as he typically would, because of the dangerous swells. A helicopter would follow us out, hover over the aft of the ship, drop a line, secure the pilot onto the line, haul him up into the helicopter, then head for sweet, sweet, solid ground.

For the next thirty-six hours, we rocked, we rolled, we boogied, we woogied, we hustled, we shuffled, we bustled, we rhumbaed, we twisted, we cut the rug, and stumbled the light fantastic our way through the thoroughly vexed seas off the coast of France. And at the end of our day and a half dance set, we had lost most of the dishes, a couple of one armed bandits in the casino, and one piano … yup, completely upside down – all three feet in the air.

Claude Debussy finished writing “La Mer” or “Three Symphonic Sketches for Orchestra” in 1905 while staying in Eastbourne on the English Channel coast. Notice how M. Debussy uses the term “symphonic”. He doesn’t use the word “symphony”. French composers of the day didn’t mind writing ballets and operas, but they shunned symphonies, sonatas and concertos; terms that would trap their creative output in an archaic box. M. Debussy preferred that you consider each of his works on a unique and individual basis. Even though “La Mer” functions as a symphony, complete with three movements, he considered this composition as a set of three pictures of the sea.

Three weeks after our dance with Emily, we had an almost carbon copy storm that fought us all the way to Portugal. The things you learn in the baptism of fire. This time, before heading out to the high and low seas, some enterprising assistant Maitre ‘D got the great idea of buying paper plates and shipping the china plates and glassware to our port on the sweet, sweet, solid ground of Lisbon. I wish they would have done that with the musicians.

Credits: To Poseidon. We stand in awe of what you can do, but can’t you pick on someone your own size? YOU deal with the Kraken. But leave us alone, God bless ‘ya.