Philly Bound
Some chapters take longer to write—
not because the words aren’t there,
but because life insists on living first.
This summer was full.
And now, with the season shifting,
I’m back to pick up the thread.
If you’ve been waiting, thank you.
If you’re just joining, welcome.
So, what now?
Back to life after dueling tapes.
Settling into everyday things.
Back to reality…
Reality?
Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?
Work, sleep, repeat…
Check the mailbox.
Letter.
Not just any letter—this one had base passes.
Shit’s getting real.
Didn’t I say I’d meet him on the pier in Philly if we were
still in contact?
Did I say that?
Yup.
And I’m not about to renege.
Time for another call to Donna.
Not to talk.
Just to say: Pack your bags.
We’re going to Philly.
To meet up with an aircraft carrier.
To stand on a pier.
To challenge the off-the-cuff remark made nearly six months ago—
in a city 3,000 miles away,
under a different sky,
with a different version of me.
Because I said it.
And he remembered.
And now the in-person story might continue.
For a day?
Date #3?
More?
Who knows.
But here’s what is certain:
I will show up.
I will honor that silly, offhanded promise that turned out to matter.
I will step onto that pier not with answers, but with presence.
And that’s where the real story lives—
not in the certainty,
but in the maybe.
Maybe it’s just a day.
Maybe it’s a beginning.
Maybe it’s closure.
And maybe it’s a plot twist.
Whatever it is, it’s mine.
And it’s unfolding in real time.
The Jersey Turnpike.
What a PITA.
Jimmy Buffett had it right.
Absolutely 100%.
Don't know it? Check it out here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sybrZXnWx60
If you’ve driven the Jersey Turnpike,
you know the I-95 Asshole song.
You’ve lived it—each trip, both to and from.
UGH.
So many cars.
So many assholes.
You don’t dare use your signal to change lanes
unless you’re planning on slamming into the car
that just floored it to close
what little gap exists between any car on the pike.
And if you speed up?
Drivers see it as a challenge to race.
They were fine going whatever speed they were going…
until you try to pass. I never did understand that mentality and still don’t.
What gives?
Just another asshole.
Another tribute to the song.
Yup. Buffett nailed it.
Nice job, Jimmy.
And then—Philly.
The skyline cracks through the haze like a promise kept.
The Delaware River glints late afternoon sun,
wide and waiting.
Donna’s quiet now.
The snacks are half-eaten.
We’re not laughing anymore.
We’re watching the signs.
I’m checking my breathing.
Because tomorrow is no longer a long time.
Six months is no longer maybe.
No more wondering if a promise made in passing would hold.
One more tomorrow and it’s almost here.
Not the answer.
Not the ending.
Just the next step.
The pier.
The presence.
The real-time unfolding.
Because tomorrow is no longer a long time.
It’s now.
Where to stay? That’s easy.
Longtime family friends have a condo—
not just any condo.
One close to the Delaware River.
The very same river the Kitty Hawk will navigate
on its way to the pier and dry dock
where it’ll settle for the next six years.
And this condo?
It sits atop Society Hill.
Swanky digs for one Swamp Yankee.
Because sometimes the story needs wall-to-floor windows
and river views—
even if it started with an off-the-cuff promise in a western saloon.
Donna’s reaction?
She walks in, drops her bag, and does a slow spin.
“Janine. This place has views.”
The Kitty Hawk somewhere out there, making its way inland.
She doesn’t ask why we’re here.
She knows.
She just opens the fridge, finds the wine, and says,
“Well, if we’re meeting an aircraft carrier, we might as well do it in style.”
And me?
I’m standing at the window, tracing the river with my eyes,
imagining the pier, the moment, the maybe.
This isn’t the saloon.
This isn’t the tape.
This is the part where the story gets dressed up—
not to impress,
but to honor the weight of showing up.
How long does it take to dock an aircraft carrier anyway?
Exactly five and a half hours.
Long, hot, humid five and a half hours.
On asphalt that is so hot, it’s actually gooey.
Long enough for your sunscreen to wear off.
Long enough for your sweat to more than dampen your clothes.
Long enough to wonder if the ship is just messing with you.
But no—
it’s just physics. That shit my brain mostly refused to comprehend in Mr. Record's high school physics class.
It’s just precision.
It’s just the weight of history easing itself toward the pier,
one inch at a time.
Turns out a carrier takes its time.
Not because it wants to—
because it has to.
Yep, turns out it takes a long time to dock a carrier.
Five hours and 25 minutes long.
So long that me and the rest of the crowd
can’t tell if the ship even moved.
I check my watch. I check the ship. I scan the crowd that’s mingling with a sense of patient excitement.
Someone in the crowd yelled, “It moved!” And we all lean in to the chain link fence…
And still—
it sits there.
Massive.
Silent.
Inching toward the pier like it’s carrying the weight
of every story ever told aboard it.
Slow? Yes. Precise? Yes.
Impressive? Absolutely.
The sailors are manning the rails in their dress whites.
A line of stillness and symmetry against steel and sky.
I'm scanning the rails hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Gosh - they all look so tiny up on that gigantic ship.
The USS Kitty Hawk (CV-63) has arrived.
Well—
almost.
Close.
So close.
The Kitty Hawk.
Massive. Powerful. Graceful.
So graceful, the water hardly moves considering its sheer mass and precision.
After a long, slow 90-degree turn—
the Kitty Hawk finally docks and settles.
And the crowd explodes.
Cheers.
Applause.
Excitement so thick it matches the thick humidity of the day.
It’s not just a ship docking.
It’s a moment arriving.
Orders completed.
A promise kept.
A story landing.
And me? I'm HERE. The moment is finally, here...almost.
I’m cheering.
I’m trying to concentrate on breathing.
Because this isn’t the end.
I know it.
I feel it.
It’s the continuation.
The next beat.
The pier.
The presence.
This is real-time unfolding.
Next Up: The Moment After the Docking
The Kitty Hawk has docked.
The crowd has cheered.
The promise has been kept.
But what happens when the noise fades?
When the ship settles?
When the maybe becomes a moment?
The next post picks up where the cheers leave off—
in the quiet, in the breath,
in the first steps toward the pier.
Because the real story doesn’t end at arrival.
USS Kitty Hawk Arrives in Philadelphia (1987)
USS Kitty Hawk (CV-63) arrived at the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard to undergo a Service Life Extension Program (SLEP)—a major overhaul designed to extend her operational life by 15–20 years. This marked a significant moment in her history, as she transitioned from active deployment to deep maintenance and modernization.
The arrival was covered by local media at the time, including the Philadelphia Inquirer, which noted the ship’s imposing presence on the Delaware River and the logistical complexity of docking a vessel over 1,000 feet long and weighing nearly 82,000 tons at full load.
The event drew attention not just for its scale, but for its symbolism: a Cold War-era carrier returning to the city where she was commissioned in 1961. Veterans, shipyard workers, and Navy families gathered to witness the docking, many of whom had personal ties to the ship’s legacy.
The Kitty Hawk didn’t just dock.
She landed in memory.
She landed in pride.
In the stories of those who had lived her decks and now watched her return.
She came full circle. The USS Kitty Hawk was commissioned April 29, 1961, at Philadelphia Naval Shipyard.
And, yes, women did serve aboard the USS Kitty Hawk (CV-63), particularly in the later decades of its nearly 50-year service life.
One notable example is Senior Chief Nilsa Rosada Bibiloni, who served on the Kitty Hawk from 1983 to 2005. Born and raised in Puerto Rico, Nilsa joined the Navy and worked in traditionally male roles aboard the carrier. Her story reflects the broader shift in naval policy and culture as women increasingly took on roles across all areas of shipboard life.
By the 1980s and 1990s, women were serving in various capacities aboard carriers like the Kitty Hawk, including roles in operations, logistics, engineering, and medical support. Their presence marked a significant evolution in Navy policy and representation.
No comments:
Post a Comment