Old sailors sit and chew the fat
'bout how things used to be
of the things they've seen       
and places they've been
when they ventured out to sea.

They remember friends from long ago
and the times they had back then
of the money they've spilled       
and the beer they've swilled
in their days as sailing men.

Their lives are lived in days gone by      
with thoughts that forever last
of cracker-jack hats      
and bell-bottom blues
and the good times in their past.

They recall long nights with a moon so bright      
far out on a lonely sea
and the thoughts they had      
as youthful lads 
when their lives were unbridled and free.

They know so well how their hearts would swell       
when the flag fluttered proud and free
and the stars and the stripes       
made such beautiful sights
as they plowed through an angry sea.

They talk of the bread ole' cookie would bake        
and the shrill of the boatsun's pipe
and how the salt spray fell        
like sparks out of hell
when a storm struck in the night.

They remember mates already gone      
who forever hold a spot 
in the stories of old       
when sailors were bold
and lubbers were a pitiful lot.

They rode their ships through many a storm       
when the sea was showing its might
And the mighty waves       
might be digging their graves
as they sailed on through the night.

They speak of nights in a bawdy house       
somewhere on a foreign shore
and the beer they'd down       
as they gathered around cracking jokes
with a busty whore.

Their sailing days are gone away       
never more will they cross the brow
but they have no regrets       
for they know they've been blessed
'cause they honored their sacred vow.

Their numbers grow less with each passing day       
as their chits in this life are called in
but they've nothing to lose       
for they've all paid their dues
and they'll sail with their shipmates again.

I've heard them say before getting underway       
that there's still some sailin' to do
and they'll exclaim with a grin       
that their ship has come in
and the Lord is commanding the crew.  
                         ***
Larry Dunn

For the past week, I have sifted, scanned, reprinted, and edited photos, newspaper and magazine articles.  Each photo has sparked a story.  Some of the stories I have heard a million times, however, listening to them now is very different.  My dad’s life was a story itself.

My dad was born February 14, 1943 in Portsmouth, VA to Everett Love Parker and Nora Kenyon Parker, the second of four children.  His baby pictures portray him as such a sweet, loving child – which I’m sure he was MOST of the time.  I know my father, and I know he probably pushed some buttons with Grammie Nora, that’s what little boys do!  His father, whom I suspect, could have been the creator of “Tough Love,” seem to have a vision for him, for all four of the kids; To Be All They Could Be.  

After moving to Rockledge in July of 1949, future stories of adventures evolved every day for my dad, his brother Allen, and sisters Judy and Lia.  Aunt Judy tells them best, like only a big sister can.  As friendships developed with the other kids from “The River Road,” the stories get more and more funny.

But in all the fun, crazy adventures, his father taught him what would prove to be the foundation of his life - Know your stuff and work hard.

Among my dad’s keepsakes was copy of “A Boys Life” magazine.  The fact that it was dated April, 1960 was impressive enough!  As I thumbed through it, I was shocked to find, right there on page 21, a full article about MY dad at the age of 14! Complete with pictures and all.  Apparently, it was tradition for Scouts of Cocoa’s Post 4 to spend two entire days by themselves, living off the land having only “two blankets, a small axe, knife, snakebite kit, matches, canteen, and water purification tablets.”  As I continued to sift through the treasures, I realized that, as impressive as the “48hours” was, it was nothing compared to what he had to accomplish to be a member of the Order of the Arrow – the Scout’s National Honor Society.  Being a Scout was something he was quite proud of, encouraged by his father, and subsequently set the stage for a most prestigious military career.  After reading the article along with countless other newspaper articles, I realized he had bragging rights he never exercised.  I had no idea the things he accomplished at such a young age!  Living in the woods, off the land, with only a few simple tools, and all alone?  It certainly helped to explain why we spent so many weekends camping……cuz he could!

In true over-achiever style, my father was also a Trumpet player in the Cocoa High School Band.  He couldn’t read the music, but he could play by ear.  Later, he taught himself how to play the guitar.  I have calming memories of my dad strumming “Puff the Magic Dragon” while I sang along with him.

Eagle Scouts and being involved in the high school band was great for my dad; swimming was even better.  A natural athlete, he excelled at this too! All four of the kids excelled in this sport and I have the myriad of newspaper articles to prove it! My grandfather was fundamental in developing the AAU swimming competition.  Consequently, my father swam competitively until he was in his mid-30’s.  I remember being at the pool while he worked out, at times even helping him….as much as a 5 year old can! I’m pretty sure I was responsible for some of his best races! Being Daddy’s Girl, I was swimming competitively in no time, although, never to the greatness my father achieved.  I often wonder if my path would have been a little different had he coached me. He was a natural teacher, coach, and encourager.

The Military called his name in 1961. And just as his father had done, he went and went proudly.  An overachiever is difficult to reign in.  His Military career was the consummation of his upbringing.  Vietnam proved to be another venerable feat.  I have heard very few Vietnam stories from him.  If he talked about it, it was only about funny stuff that he and his buddies did or tricks they played on each other.  Yet another missed bragging moment.  The local newspaper didn’t miss the opportunity to brag about one of their own.  I read the story of his 56hour trip across the China Sea in a Swift Boat – setting a record, naturally, as this type of boat was not designed for open sea travel, much less at a high speed.  Yes, in true Brent Parker style, he continued to exceed typical expectations.  He was the leading Petty Officer for SWIFT crew and received several medals for his leadership and accomplishments.   I know this experience exposed him to things a human being should never have to experience.  I’m sure in many ways, it changed him.  How could it not?  But he never seemed to lose perspective. 

I was born in 1968. I’m sure he wanted a boy, however, a tom-boy would be just as good!  My father continued to climb the ranks at an accelerated speed, mastering his knowledge while being stationed on the USS Fulton, PCF Coastal Div. 13/CAT LO Vietnam, USS St. Paul,  USS Wasp, USS Dale, USS Paiute, and finally retiring while based at the Orlando Naval Training Center.     In 1982, he retired as a Lieutenant at the age of 39. His Military record reads like a “Best of the Best” novel.  I am a proud daughter! 

While at the ONTC, I remember his time as the Disciplinary Officer.  He got to “knock some sense” into disengaged young recruits.  I always thought that was funny – my dad as a disciplinarian.  While I knew better not to “cross that line” myself, I just couldn’t see him “yelling” at somebody.  My father was more of a “take you under his wing” kind of man.  This was evident in countless reviews written by his commanders.   Among other accolades, they repeatedly commented on how he was able to reach even the most stubborn of recruits, and in a gentle, respectful manner.  Consequently, many of his positions later in his career involved the guidance of young recruits.  I remember him dealing with me in the same gentle, yet authoritative demeanor. I hope that is the way my children see me when they grow up. 

He demonstrated this natural characteristic in water skiing too.  I’m not really sure where or when he picked up water skiing, but, again, in true Brent Parker over-achiever style, he went beyond in this sport too.  The sport of Barefoot skiing never knew what hit it!  Out of all the things my dad loved to do, whether as a child, young adult, or grown man, barefooting was most definitely at the top of his list!   I’ve lost count of how many people he taught to waterski and barefoot – including me.  No way could a daughter of Brent Parker NOT be a water skier!  How many hours we spent on various lakes throughout Florida! I remember camping out at Lake Wildcat, skiing during the day, and taking the boat out at night to see how many glowing alligator eyes we could find.  Something so wrong with that!  If it was daylight, and the water was near, you could bet your life that Brent Parker was on a lake….and on his feet!

My little sister, Taylor, was born in 1984.  Having already raised a tom-boy, he was so excited to do it again – although this time he knew the shortcuts – poor thing – she never saw it coming!  Shortly thereafter, he moved to Alabama and started a new career with Ingalls Shipbuilding Corporation.  It is hard to imagine my father in an office job when his entire life was spent outdoors.  After 10+ years, he retired – Orlando was calling his name to come back home.  Eventually, he settled near me in Altamonte Springs and became the best devoted and proud Poppy to his grandson Chandler and granddaughter Olyvia. 

He filled his days with spending time with his family, biking, camping, kayaking, building and repairing motorcycles – enjoying his full retirement at last.  Dad could always be found tinkering in his garage on an engine or another crazy remote controlled toy any day of the week!  He did his best to keep up with the active lives of his two daughters and two grandchildren.  He put the icing on his cake when he met his soul mate, Gerri, and married her in 2010.  Together in their RV, they bee-bopped around on their own  little mini-adventures – with Gerri always keeping up with his medical appointments and getting him there on time…..a notorious characteristic that I thought would never be cured!  They fished off their dock together, traveled together, experienced life together.   He was happy and complete.  His world was one. 

My dad....he knew his stuff, worked hard, lived his life, loved his family and will always be my Superman!