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Jackson Evans Ireland was a grumpy irascible, lovable, huggable true gentleman. When we first met (30ish years ago) he described himself as a grumpy old man. His love of sea and history and humor were clear from the start. He is the person who dragged me to judge my first History Fair. He taught me a lot about working with the kids and being supportive of them. Making sure that we insisted on good history while respecting them and their work. His joy in their work was wonderful. Over the years we would see each other at various competitions and swap stories of the projects we saw. One year I was doing performance at State and he had done it at County and naturally I saw one of the ones that had advanced and after judging (and scoring), we compared notes on the project (that kid could perform!).
I first met him through the Longship Company and working with him on Fyrdraca and sailing under his captaincy was a magical experience. He insisted (correctly) on being safe first, fun second, and still be educational. He was patient with beginners but had not a lot of patience for people who refused to learn or refused to listen.
He was the captain on one of my favorite "let's mess with the locals" voyages. We were in Annapolis in the summer of 1992 (shamelessly coattailing on the replica Columbus ships) and had docked with them at City Dock. One evening, Captain Van had taken Draca out for a row around the area. At the time across the channel from City Dock was a swanky restaurant so we headed over there. Along the side of the restauant (where the wall to wall windows were facing us) were signs that said no docking. Van, warned us of what he planned so we were full speed ahead (well as full speed ahead as 6 oars could do). When we were close to the dock he said, prepare to hold water (hold the oar in the water so the boat comes to a stop) and back water if needed on my command. Hold water in 3 ... 2 ... 1 - HOLD Water so we stopped rowing, put the oars in and held and the boat came to a fairly quick stop. Ivan (our dragon) was looking over the shoulder at the meal of one of the diners. His companion had seen us coming and was pointing at us (we were all craning our necks to see the show), he turn over his shoulder and was facing a very cute dragon. He jumped, we laughed, waved, and then Van had us do a 180 around where the mast was (half rowing frontwards, half backwards) and we rowed away. We obeyed the letter of the rules, we did NOT dock ... we didn't even touch the dock ... just got Veerrrrrry close to it.
He was also an instigator at having the boat at a fund raiser for the local marine museum and we were paying as we went. At the time he worked at a bank so he found out about how much we were going to donate and got a lot of in in half dollars and at intermission of the concert, we rowed over to the dock, dropped of some sacks of money, 'kidnapped' the opening act, and rowed away. The opening act thought we were fun and asked to go with us. Before we went to the dock, we rowed around the other boats that were anchored out listening to the concert and suggested making a donation (holding a basket on the end of a spear).
One of my favorite memories (and one I never let him live down ... and will never be able to tease him about again) was a feast we went to. He decided to make a period soup. He had friends who hunted and gave him some venison. He got some period vegetables and made a lovely broth with small bits of Bambi and the veggies. He decided it was a little thin, so he added barley ... an entire box of it. 10 minutes later, it still looked thin and he added a second box of barley. What ended up being served was slices of barley with shreds of Bambi. It was delicious but very high in roughage and you could slice this and grill it like a burger.
He could tell stories and provide wisdom and even when you hadn't seen him for awhile, he was always glad to see you and it felt like no time passed.
Unfortunately, we both mostly dropped out of Longship and I stopped doing county history fair and he stopped doing state. I wish I could have dragged him to see National and wander the exhibit hall with him. With my life going differently, I haven't seen him in several years but always thought foundly of him.
Sail true my captain of captains, may the fair winds bring you home.
I first met him through the Longship Company and working with him on Fyrdraca and sailing under his captaincy was a magical experience. He insisted (correctly) on being safe first, fun second, and still be educational. He was patient with beginners but had not a lot of patience for people who refused to learn or refused to listen.
He was the captain on one of my favorite "let's mess with the locals" voyages. We were in Annapolis in the summer of 1992 (shamelessly coattailing on the replica Columbus ships) and had docked with them at City Dock. One evening, Captain Van had taken Draca out for a row around the area. At the time across the channel from City Dock was a swanky restaurant so we headed over there. Along the side of the restauant (where the wall to wall windows were facing us) were signs that said no docking. Van, warned us of what he planned so we were full speed ahead (well as full speed ahead as 6 oars could do). When we were close to the dock he said, prepare to hold water (hold the oar in the water so the boat comes to a stop) and back water if needed on my command. Hold water in 3 ... 2 ... 1 - HOLD Water so we stopped rowing, put the oars in and held and the boat came to a fairly quick stop. Ivan (our dragon) was looking over the shoulder at the meal of one of the diners. His companion had seen us coming and was pointing at us (we were all craning our necks to see the show), he turn over his shoulder and was facing a very cute dragon. He jumped, we laughed, waved, and then Van had us do a 180 around where the mast was (half rowing frontwards, half backwards) and we rowed away. We obeyed the letter of the rules, we did NOT dock ... we didn't even touch the dock ... just got Veerrrrrry close to it.
He was also an instigator at having the boat at a fund raiser for the local marine museum and we were paying as we went. At the time he worked at a bank so he found out about how much we were going to donate and got a lot of in in half dollars and at intermission of the concert, we rowed over to the dock, dropped of some sacks of money, 'kidnapped' the opening act, and rowed away. The opening act thought we were fun and asked to go with us. Before we went to the dock, we rowed around the other boats that were anchored out listening to the concert and suggested making a donation (holding a basket on the end of a spear).
One of my favorite memories (and one I never let him live down ... and will never be able to tease him about again) was a feast we went to. He decided to make a period soup. He had friends who hunted and gave him some venison. He got some period vegetables and made a lovely broth with small bits of Bambi and the veggies. He decided it was a little thin, so he added barley ... an entire box of it. 10 minutes later, it still looked thin and he added a second box of barley. What ended up being served was slices of barley with shreds of Bambi. It was delicious but very high in roughage and you could slice this and grill it like a burger.
He could tell stories and provide wisdom and even when you hadn't seen him for awhile, he was always glad to see you and it felt like no time passed.
Unfortunately, we both mostly dropped out of Longship and I stopped doing county history fair and he stopped doing state. I wish I could have dragged him to see National and wander the exhibit hall with him. With my life going differently, I haven't seen him in several years but always thought foundly of him.
Sail true my captain of captains, may the fair winds bring you home.
