Water, water everywhere....

Time for a new water heater.  Mine sprang multiple leaks last night.  Pipes going in and pipes going out were beginning to ooze a steady stream that trickled down into the pan beneath the heater itself which is a good thing or the floor would have been flooded.  So I am waiting til 8:30 to call the SCE&G folks to see if they can provide another deal on a WH plus installation and warranty.  They did it last time and it lasted near 20 years.  Another 20 years would be sufficient I believe.
  When I was about five, I remember being awakened in the early morning hours by a house rattling boom.  That, followed by water hissing through broken pipes, scared the fire out of me.  I was sitting bolt upright screaming when my mother came in to calm me down.  A string of harsh words were flying through the air from the vicinity of the WH as my dad worked as quickly as he could to stop the water flow and relieve the pressure in the tank.  He was blistering our ears with the heated words rising to the rafters much like the old man in A Christmas Story.
  It was a mop up family moment there in the early hours of the morn.  My mother with a mop, my dad with a wrench and me with soaking towels moving along the surface of the floor.  The water rippled away from the saturated towels as I scooted along the linoleum laughing at those ripples playing out ahead of me.  My dad couldn't see the humour in the situation at all.  My mother tried to explain to him the amusement a five year old would have in a wading pool that was our house at the moment.  He shook his head and went back to his tool box for a larger wrench.
  The difference in perspective in this case was an age thing.  Without responsibility it was a watery adventure after the initial scare of the explosion.  With the heavy mantle of responsibility  resting heavily on his shoulders my dad had no time for the wonder of it, his was the action of necessity.  Is it any wonder that the days of childhood are looked back upon with a nostalgia?  The time of no responsibility beckons with bitter sweet memory.
 Now I have become much like my dad.  It's easier to understand why he was the way he was.  It was tough providing for a family.  He did the best he could for us.  I'm sorry I couldn't understand that then.  I often wonder if I gave him the respect and appreciation he deserved.  I hope he felt that I did.
  He had a difficult time while growing up.  A legal immigrant who never had the chance to complete his schooling because he had to work.  His parents couldn't provide enough so he quit school to help with the family income.  He worked odd jobs until the war.  Even though he worked in the coal mines which guaranteed exempt status, he joined the Royal Navy to do his duty.  Why the Navy?  Because he didn't want to have to fire a gun at someone. He didn't want to have to kill.  Plus, by joining the navy he figured no one would find them on a small ship in the huge expanse of ocean.  He was wrong there.  The Gerries found them.  Three different times on three different ships.
  In the battle of Salerno his ship was hit by one of the first guided missiles which punched through the deck and those below and through the hull, exploding beneath the ship.  It went  right through the engine room where dad was working.  Some repair was done in Malta after which she, the HMS Uganda, limped across the Atlantic to Charleston, SC.  Dad stayed here with his ship for a year, which was very fortunate for me since he met my mother during that time.
  The navy floats on water.  The memory floats back on water from a leaking water heater.  Funny how the mind works.  Excuse me while I go get a glass of water.