RIP Great Uncle Frank Wright

My mom called me this morning to say someone had written an article about my Great Uncle (who I always called "Uncle Pirate") in the Vancouver Sun published today. I promptly went out and bought a copy. A few months ago he'd done an interview for a magazine and a memorial was erected in Horseshoe Bay in his honour soon after.

The last time I saw my Uncle was 6 years ago at my Mom's wedding to my step-dad. I was talking to him and brought up this wooden parrot that I've had since I was little that my mom told me Uncle Frank had hand carved for me. He didn't remember it and told me to show it to him. Mom was getting married at our house so I ran upstairs to collect the old parrot and I brought it to him. He looked at it and started crying, "I can't believe you still have this old thing!". I was so uncomfortable that I'd made my then 83 year old Uncle cry, but we hugged it out and all was well.

I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to see him in the hospital before he died last week. On Friday morning an hour before my mom was supposed to pick me up from work to take me to Lion's Gate Hospital to see him she called to tell me he'd died in his sleep, thankfully. The funeral is on Monday. I'll say goodbye then I guess.

Here's today's article:

An ancient mariner and 'pirate' laid to rest
Frank Wright lived his life on the water; he was also a recipient of the Order of the British Empire

Pete McMartin
Vancouver Sun

Saturday, November 29, 2008

They will lay Frank Wright to rest on Monday. He died at the age of 89.

I did not know him. People who did -- his wife, his daughter, friends of his -- all called him a character. They gave the impression that behind the usual smooth facade of the obituary resided a real person with ragged, if likable, edges. He was a North Vancouver boy who spent his entire working life on, around, or under the water, who operated tugs, water taxis and salvage crews, and who commenced his own diving career, without a single lesson, after the salvage diver he had hired reported to work sick. Frank donned helmet, suit and boots and went over the side. "A pirate," said a friend, and she meant it as a compliment. He kept a parrot in his office. The parrot could swear.

He was also a veteran.

At the age of 25, Wright was the captain of the M/V Brigadier Sutherland Brown, an army ship that ran up and down the west coast supplying army outposts.

On the morning of Mar. 6, 1945, the Sutherland Brown was docked at the army dock at the foot of Cardero. Wright and a skeleton crew of three were aboard. A half-mile away, at Pier B-C at the foot of Granville Street, sat the SS Greenhill Park, a 10,000-ton freighter that was bound for Australia. It was being loaded with lumber, and its holds were already weighed down with a catch-all cargo of newsprint, sunglasses, jars of pickles, crated airplanes, fertilizers, distress flares, barrels of 60-proof whisky and 1,985 drums of sodium chlorate, a chemical sometimes used in the making of explosives.

Minutes before noon at that day, smoke began to curl out of the Greenhill Park's No. 3 hold. There was a fire. It was later believed that a group of longshoremen were siphoning whisky and someone had lit a match in the gloom. The fumes ignited.

The explosion, at 11:59 a.m., blew the ship's bridge 30 metres into the air. The ship's funnel collapsed. The concussion shattered windows as far away as Georgia Street and people thought the Japanese were attacking. The ship's five holds, transformed into giant mortars, lobbed pieces of cargo all over downtown. Pickles pattered down onto the dock. Rolls of newsprint shot high into the air and unraveled like streamers. Sunglasses landed as far away as Lumberman's Arch. A tablecloth from the ship's salon fluttered down onto the Shell Oil barge in Coal Harbour. Distress flares shot off like Roman candles and floated down with their parachutes open. The Greenhill Park and a barge next to it were set ablaze by burning lumber and chemicals. Eight men died.

Wright and his crew, seeing this, set off in the Sutherland Brown and steamed toward the burning freighter. He backed the Sutherland Brown in, and from the aft deck had his mate throw a line onto the Greenhill Park. It caught. The Sutherland Brown started to tow the Greenhill Park away from the dock.

All the while, Wright would later tell friends, an army dispatcher from the command office was ordering him and his crew away from the burning freighter. He threatened him with court-martial if he disobeyed.

Wright turned the radio off.

Farther out into the harbour an army tug came alongside and caught a line on the Greenhill Park, too, and the two boats tried to beach the freighter on the North Shore. But the ebb tide was too strong and they couldn't tow it against the current so they let go the lines. The Greenhill Park drifted out the First Narrows and went aground near Siwash Rock. It burned for three days.

Frank Wright returned ashore to face the wrath of the army and court-martial. That fate, however, was forestalled by an admiring commanding officer. He told Wright not to worry.

Years later, when Wright was running his water taxi business in Horseshoe Bay, he hired a young accountant just starting out named Brice Macdougall. Macdougall and Wright would grow to become friends, and one day -- a few years ago, Macdougall said -- he was over at Wright's house visiting.

They got to talking about the Greenhill Park disaster.

It was a subject, his daughter Patricia said, that her father rarely talked about, if ever. His wife, Carol, said the same thing. But on that day when Macdougall started asking him about it, Wright got up, Macdougall said, went down to his basement and brought something up.

It was a medal.

It was the Order of The British Empire, awarded for meritorious service.

In all the years he had known him, Macdougall said, Wright had never mentioned it. He had kept it in a toolbox.

A few days after his death, I asked Wright's widow, Carol, where the medal was now. She said:

"I'm sure it's around here somewhere, somewhere in the basement, probably."

pmcmartin@vancouversun.com

604-605-2905
© The Vancouver Sun 2008

This amuses me, I like Fish

I'm sure you've heard Britney's new song Womanizer . It sounds strangely like she ripped off Neurotic Fish...

It's the most wonderful time of the year

So, when I think of Christmas it's not the snow-covered tree images or twinkle lights I envision but empty wallets, full-contact shopping and muddy slush on the roads. I know, I know, I'm the Grinch or whatever. So this year I'm not really buying Christmas like I have in the past. Most everyone on my list is getting handcrafted items and they had better love them because I've literally lost blood over them.

All sarcasm aside:
I'm feeling quite satisfied already with the lack of spending and hope my friends do the same (though I lovelovelove what Xixi got me and can hardly wait till it's mine, all mine!).
So until that fateful eve when eyes light up peeking under the tree, I will plug along every evening slaving over the gifts I'm making for my more than amazing friends and family who deserve my time and effort.

Lalalalalala Tonight!

Yeah, my friends and I totally geeked out and went to the NKOTB concert in Vancouver. It was pretty amazing. Lady GaGa opened and I see a bit of Madonna in her, she's quite a diva (in a good way). Natasha Bedingfield played second. Her vocals are stunning and soulful and I'd pay to see her headline.
The boys did not disappoint, I'm so glad we went, thank you for the xmas present Lana! I finally got to live a childhood dream.

Here's a small smattering of pics from the night:

This is Halloween

Ok, here's the pics from Halloween finally!

Was it something I said?

Dear My Left Kidney,

I'm sorry I hurt you, I'm not really sure what I did. I know you feel better now, but we still have to go for at least one more round of IV antibiotics. We'll know tomorrow hopefully if this is it or not, but the doctors in emergency at Burnaby General still haven't gotten the culture back from the people who make a living spreading bodily fluids on petri dishes. Guess bacteria don't grow all that fast.

They say we're on the "Big Guns" of the world of antibiotics... Sounds like I'll need a big bottle of probiotics by the time this is finished. I guess at least I'm getting an involuntary vacation from work. Too bad I didn't think to bring the power chord for my computer home on Thursday night.

Next time I think I'm getting a UTI (my first in 10 years or so) maybe I'll go straight to the doctor instead of self-medicating with cranberry juice? Damn it. Score one for modern medicine... I'll get you one day.

Well, Left Kidney dearest, I promise to try my best to stop living in a constant state of dehydration. I can't help that I'm never thirsty and don't like water but at least I'll poot my best foot forward after this so we don't go through the pain of our entire body feeling like it's under attack again. Who knew that if you were infected I'd also get a sore throat, swollen glands, and an earache? Weird.

I love you Left Kidney (and your friend on the Right too), don't you ever forget that.

Yours in sickness and in health,

Lisa
xox

Stolen From MeiMei

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.


We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.


Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep,though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

celebrity crush

So last night was amazingly crazy. I spent it sober, hopped up on Red Bull, and dressed up like Alice in Wonderland. There were quite a few other girls dressed up the same but mine was the only hand-sewn costume. Hopefully my photographers get the pics edited soon and let me post them on here.
The club was oversold and stuffed to the brim. It felt strangely like some raves I'd been to years ago: hot and humid, no room to move and just enough room to dance a bit in place on the dance floor. It was off-the-hook crazy, sooo much nudity and some of the best, most creative costumes I've seen in my life.
Now I'm nursing an upset stomach and watching Jarhead with my darling dearest curled up on the couch.