There are moments when you realize you are part of history. A piece of something very special and rewarding. Even awe-inspiring. That there will only be one 450th anniversary of St. Augustine, and that it is an incredible honor to play a small role in it, like rowing Pedro Menendez ashore aboard a 16th century chalupa — a Spanish longboat.
I love that feeling.
There are also moments — not as special or rewarding — when you realize that your authentic 16th century pants are … um … well … on backwards. That the rest of your crew is having a mighty good laugh at your expense.
“Hold up, my trousers seem to have malfunctioned,” I told the coxswain as we were practicing for our first landing last weekend. Buttons holding them together had come loose … in the back. Since I row stroke, everyone faces me. And by everyone, I mean everyone who had pants with buttons … IN THE FRONT!
Greats roars of laughter rang out when my wardrobe malfunction was noticed. “Didn’t your mother teach you the label points to the back?” I was taunted as I undressed and re-dressed on the water.
I didn’t love that feeling. (Luckily there were no crowds around.)
So went my brush with history — incredible highs, embarrassing lows. I wonder if Menendez had such days.
If you didn’t see it, you should have been there for the big event marking his landing and the founding of St. Augustine. Hundreds lined the Mission of Nombre de Dios to see him place boots on this historic shore. It was a sight. But first we first had to run a gauntlet of protesters who had taken to the water on cheap rubber rafts to yell insults and cry “genocide” as we passed. (I thought it ironic that the rafts they floated on were probably made by sweat shop labor in brutal Third World conditions. But we’ll let that one slide.)
On to the pomp and circumstance. History can be complex, and not all good, but it’s exciting to re-live it. To row where those who helped found this great city, and this land, once rowed. It’s all a blur, really. The heat and the exhaustion made sure of that. So did dodging police boats and protesters. Making sure I got the Spanish commands right. And having to worry that my shirt was on backwards.
But we did it. We put him ashore just like we were supposed to — in front of the crowds, in front of all the dignitaries, in front of Cardinal O’Malley. (Good thing I got my pants straightened out.)
Whew, what a show, St. Augustine! The whole weekend. You did it. And what an honor to be part of something that will never happen again. Or at least not for another 50 years. I’ll be 92 when that celebration rolls around. Not sure if I’ll still be rowing, but if I do, I’ll know where the tag on my trousers goes.