SWARTHOS

It was the late 60s when my mother and I ordered that submarine from the back pages of a comic book. As advertised, a submarine I could actually sit inside of! I would check the mailbox every day for some indication that it had arrived. I had no concept of how such a thing would actually be delivered, but my expectation was real. I was probably 5 or 6 at the time and our family was preparing to move to Hawaii soon as my father had received orders from the Navy to be transferred.

Eventually we moved during the summer of 1969 and I figured that submarine probably went to some kid who was now occupying the house I had left behind in California. Hawaii became a nice distraction with its own magic and adventure. But every so often the conversation between my mother and I would turn to the submarine that we had purchased.

It became a kind of running joke between my mother and me as I would casually ask “Did it arrive yet?” No she would say, perhaps it will tomorrow! I’d say the joy we shared just talking about the submarine that never arrived surpassed any momentary pleasure I would have felt had it been delivered. After all, I can’t rationally believe a large sized nuclear submarine would have been sent to a six-year old.

So here I am 61 years old and many years later, my mother is long gone and still no submarine. But I have some fond memories of the jokes and love I shared with my mother because of it.