“Go, go, go!” the deep voice shouted, right near my ear.  Bob’s calloused hand, which had just been caressing my thigh, grabbed the source of the sound: a black, hand-held VHF radio, located on the rickety nightstand next to the bed in the hotel room where we lay. The digital clock, lit with red numbers, showed 2 a.m.

“I’m coming,” Bob said, having flipped the radio into transmission mode. He jumped out of bed and grabbed his blue jeans, pulling them on.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “I just got here!”

“Time for me to go, honey. That was Spelbrink on the radio. He‘s been watching the wave heights. The bar is safe to cross." Bob leaned down, kissed me, and left me sitting upright in bed. Taking a long, last look, he said, “Have a safe drive home,” and closed the door tight behind him.

 

In 2000, Michele Longo Eder began a journal to record what daily life was like for her while her husband and sons were out commercial fishing off the coasts of Oregon, Washington, and northern California. But personal tragedy struck just before Christmas 2001. This book is an offer of healing to her family, her community, and to fishing families everywhere.