The story of "A Bucket of shrimp"

Briar Rabbit

Line Up and Wait
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Rob
It happened every Friday evening, almost without fail, when the sun resembled a giant orange and was starting to dip into the blue ocean. Old Ed came strolling along the beach to his favorite pier. Clutched in his bony hand was a bucket of shrimp. Ed walks out to the end of the pier, where it seems he almost has the world to himself. The glow of the sun is a golden bronze now.

Everybody's gone, except for a few joggers on the beach. Standing out on the end of the pier, Ed is alone with his thoughts...and his bucket of shrimp.

Before long, however, he is no longer alone. Up in the sky a thousand white dots come screeching and squawking, winging their way toward that lanky frame standing there on the end of the pier.

Before long, dozens of seagulls have enveloped him, their wings fluttering and flapping wildly. Ed stands there tossing shrimp to the hungry birds. As he does, if you listen closely, you can hear him say with a smile, 'Thank you. Thank you.'

In a few short minutes the bucket is empty. But Ed doesn't leave. He stands there lost in thought, as though transported to another time and place .


When he finally turns around and begins to walk back toward the beach, a few of the birds hop along the pier with him until he gets to the stairs, and then they, too, fly away. And old Ed quietly makes his way down to the end of the beach and on home.

If you were sitting there on the pier with your fishing line in the water, Ed might seem like 'a funny old duck,' as my dad used to say. Or, to onlookers, he's just another old codger, lost in his own weird world, feeding the seagulls with a bucket full of shrimp.

To the onlooker, rituals can look either very strange or very empty. They can seem altogether unimportant ....maybe even a lot of nonsense.

Old folks often do strange things, at least in the eyes of Boomers and Busters.

Most of them would probably write Old Ed off, down there in Florida ... That's too bad. They'd do well to know him better.

His full name: Eddie Rickenbacker
. He was a famous hero in World War I, and then he was in WWII. On one of his flying missions across the Pacific, he and his seven-member crew went down. Miraculously, all of the men survived, crawled out of their plane, and climbed into a life raft.

Captain Rickenbacker and his crew floated for days on the rough waters of the Pacific. They fought the sun. They fought sharks. Most of all, they fought hunger and thirst. By the eighth day their rations ran out. No food. No water. They were hundreds of miles from land and no one knew where they were or even if they were alive.


Every day across America millions wondered and prayed that Eddie Rickenbacker might somehow be found alive.

The men adrift needed a miracle. That afternoon they had a simple devotional service and prayed for a miracle.


They tried to nap. Eddie leaned back and pulled his military cap over his nose. Time dragged on. All he could hear was the slap of the waves against the raft...suddenly Eddie felt something land on the top of his cap. It was a seagull!

Old Ed would later describe how he sat perfectly still, planning his next move. With a flash of his hand and a squawk from the gull, he managed to grab it and wring its neck He tore the feathers off, and he and his starving crew made a meal of it - a very slight meal for eight men. Then they used the intestines for bait. With it, they caught fish, which gave them food and more bait...and the cycle continued. With that simple survival technique, they were able to endure the rigors of the sea until they were found and rescued after 24 days at sea.

Eddie Rickenbacker lived many years beyond that ordeal, but he never forgot the sacrifice of that first life-saving seagull.. And he never stopped saying, 'Thank you.' That's why almost every Friday night he would walk to the end of the pier with a bucket full of shrimp and a heart full of gratitude.


Reference: (Max Lucado, "In The Eye of the Storm", pp...221, 225-226)
 
Great story!

I had a similar experience a number of years ago. And old guy hung around the airport and he liked to talk a lot. There was something about him that you didn't believe. He seem to have an opinion on everything and talk a lot about flying different aircraft but nobody ever actually seen or heard of him flying airplane.

He was like a hanger-on who just want to be around real pilots and be accepted by them. At least that's what I thought.

Some years later I ran into Ray, and he was working in a hardware store. I felt obliged to say something to him so I asked him how he was doing.

When he started to talk I realized it had never actually listened to him. Like most of the people I had just discounted everything he said.

In the aisle of the hardware store he started telling me his life story.

He had flown P38s in the Pacific in World War II.

For years he and his buddy had flown air show routines in their pitts aircraft. His whole life had been about aviation until he lost his medical.

I walk out of that store stunned. Those few years that I knew him I completely discounted him. I had no idea he was a real life hero. I still feel lousy about that.
 
It also appears in Rickenbacker's long out of print autobiography.
 
So many people have stories, and some of them are really great. All you have to do is be willing to listen.


+100

Back in 1981, I was working in Orlando during my summer off from college. At the church I attended there, I met an elderly lady who I learned was a WWII vet. She was a WASP pilot who had flown ferry flights of fighter planes. Unfortunately I was too young and stupid to understand just how special a lady she was, and to this day I kick myself for not talking with her and hearing her story. Damn, what an opportunity I missed.

When we moved to my current home back in 2002, my next door neighbor was a WWII vet and fortunately by then I had become a bit older and maybe a little wiser. My wife and I would visit him and his wife on many Sunday afternoons. Turns out he had served on a UDT team in the Pacific, swimming into beachheads at night ahead of US invasion forces and setting explosive charges on underwater obstructions and mapping out mine locations. At least I had gained enough sense to be amazed, impressed, and very grateful. He passed away about five years ago.

Two or three years ago, we hosted a home Bible study group for a few months, and one of our members was also a WWII vet. He, a white man, had actually been an officer (Captain, later a Major) in a Negro unit that wasn't permitted to have its own black officers. Being part of that group, he was treated the same as they were, using segregated facilities, not allowed in white dining halls, etc. Oh, the stories he could tell, and it really helped me understand just how cruel segregation was in those days. He passed away about a year ago.

These folks are or were a treasure, and sadly most of them are gone now.
 
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