MONDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 2006  -  John Cooper and his son, Jeremiah, completed the remaining work on the boat and prepared it to be lifted from the Jeremiah Thompson farm lake and loaded onto a truck for transport to Cincinnati for launch on the Ohio River.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 2006  -  John and Jeremiah Cooper, Mervin and Margaret Drake, Frankie and Bill Pohlman, Alan Badger, a Sullivan Daily Times reporter, Howard and Loretta Spiehler, Hugh Oxendine, Mark Gibson, Valerie Bradbury and I, along with the crane, semi and escort truck operators observed or participated in loading the boat onto the semi truck.  Valerie, Mark and I went to the Jeremiah spring where I drew a five-gallon container and five quart containers of water to take on the boat.  The water will be used for drinking and for watering toe oak saplings when they are planted at the end of the journey.  I also dug up three oak saplings to take on the boat. Mervin, Margaret and I, along with Valerie and Mark went to the Turman’s Creek Primitive Baptist church for a few moments of quiet contemplation.  Mark and Valerie went and filmed that event. 

Two cranes were required to lift the boat out of the lake and onto the truck.  Ron then led the truck off the farm to State Road 246.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 2006  -  The truck encountered problems immediately upon entering Ohio. The trailer was tandem axle, but Ohio required a tri-axle for the weight of the boat, which weighed in at 43,000 pounds when passed over the highway inspection scales.  The truck returned to the Terre Haute yard where the boat was shifted to a tri-axle trailer.  It was then too late to travel. 

John and Jeremiah went on to Cincinnati to meet the push boat and prepare to receive the flatboat. I arrived at dockside at approximately 4:30 p.m.  The escort truck arrived about an hour later.  The semi had taken the wrong turn and was parked at the side of the road a mile away unable to pass through a tunnel, and unable to turn around.  John and I went to the site, helped the driver turn around at dusk in heavy traffic.  The boat then arrived at dockside without further incident.  It was parked in front of the Majestic Queen to away a crane on Thursday to launch. 

Jeremiah was to sleep on the flatboat tonight for security.  John and the push boat captain, Joe, were to sleep on the push boat.  I went to the nearby Holiday Inn.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 2006.  The crane arrived at dockside at 8 a.m. to launch the boat.  The crew did not have the correct blocking, and so had to send back to the yard for that, causing nearly an hour's delay.  When the crane attempted to pick up the boat, the lifting straps under the boat slipped, nearly causing the boat to drop.  On a second attempt, the front of the boat was straining so much that it looked to be in danger of breaking away.  John then repeated his insistence that the equipment was not correct, and that spreaders were needed to distribute the weight.  The crane operator then sent back to the yard for those.  The company did not have the right equipment and had to borrow from elsewhere, causing further delay.  Finally the equipment arrived and the boat was set in the water without further incident, at approximately 2 p.m., for a job that should have taken no more than an hour.

We then took the boat up to the confluence of  the Little Miami and Ohio rivers.  At 5:54 p.m. I christened the boat with water from great-great-great grandfather Jeremiah’s spring.  My statement was, “I christen thee Journey of Remembrance.  Sail true.”  We then started the journey. 

We docked at the site where we had launched at Cincinnati to spend the night.  John, his son Jeremiah, and I went to a Big Boy’s for dinner.  I slept that night on the boat, going to bed about 11 p.m.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 1, 2006  -   The night was tough - cold and damp.  The bunk bed was too high to reach without a ladder.  The ladder we had built-in proved too painful and hazardous. 

At 8 a.m. the wind was blowing so hard that John and Joe decided it was impossible to cast off.  The wind blew at times up to about 50 mph.  The boat tossed and rocked so violently that it was hard to avoid becoming sea-sick.  The temperature dropped so quickly that fall changed to winter within the hour. We made several unsuccessful efforts to start the wood-burning stove in the main room of the cabin.  When I could not keep it burning, any hope of cooking there ended. I finally ended up eating cold cereal and drinking hot tea (from the microwave). 

John and I installed additional shelves and badly needed vegetable bins in the main room.  We also built steps for bunk-bed access. During the day the wind blew hard and cold through the rear door and every crack in the walls.  I realized then that this journey has become a test of endurance.  I cannot dimly comprehend the privation the family endured so many years ago.  What kept them going?  How did they survive?  Now I can understand Uncle Wilson’s satisfaction when he wrestled and overcame a deer, thereby providing food for his family for much of the remainder of their journey.

We went to K-Mart to supplement the cooking capacity with a crockpot and toaster oven.  That option was not available to the family so long ago.  

I have been unable to gain internet access while on the boat.  We  are currently docked a short distance from Cincinnati’s Showboat Majestic.  This evening John and I went there to see a presentation of “Frostbite Follies.”

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 2, 2006 - The wind slacked off to the point  that we could cast off. We departed Cincinnati at 9 o'clock this morning.  The travel was smooth and without incident.  We did get into the wake of a large barge tow, that bent one of the two push knees on the push boat. We arrived at Rising Sun at approximately 3:15 p.m.., while I was eating my first food cooked on the wood stove.  I was so hungry after being unable to get food cooked on the boat that it was a difficult choice between eating and docking. 

The town's mayor, a Democrat,  came down to the dock to meet us and assured us he would do everything possible to accommodate us.  We picked up supplies and built a fire in the deck fire pit.  Several people came past to view the boat.  One couple invited us to their house tomorrow morning for breakfast and to shower.  A young man came by and talked with John for quite some time about fishing and hunting, while sitting around the lighted fire pit on deck. So far, Jeremiah has put his cot in the main room, while John and Joe have slept on the push boat.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 3, 2006 - We cast off from Rising Sun at about 8:25 a.m.  The crew had breakfast and showers with the volunteer person from last night.  I did not.  It is now 20 degrees at castoff.  The boat  was warm and comfortable last night.

Every time we hit a swell, the clock falls off the wall.  Life has taken on a whole different perspective. Fastidiousness about hygiene and clean clothes is set aside.  Fresh water is all important, to be used sparingly.  Hot water is a luxury.  Keeping the wood stove burning is nearly a full time job.  Cooking and eating become central and time consuming.   No interest in shaving. 

I remember Uncle Willard, raised on a farm, when he returned from World War II Navy service told us that when he first went aboard ship there were bugs in the bread.  Initially he refused to eat the bread.  Later he picked out the bugs and ate the bread.  Finally, he gave in and ate bugs and all.  I can see that happening here.  Cultural standards are relative.

Right now the boat is bobbing and rocking going over swells, probably from a barge string.  I just got sprayed from the bow for the first time.  My fingers are cold.  My cell phone is picking up a signal only on an intermitent basis.  I have not been able to access the internet from the boat.  My cell phone now reads “No service.” We met three barge tows that rocked the boat.  We went through Markland  Lock.   We tied to the wall and the lock lowered us 28 feet. 

There were lots of vegetation and logs in the river including what appeared to be a dead Holstein cow, before we reached the dam.  The generator exhausts its fuel supply after running several hours.  The wood stove requires constant attention to kept it burning.  The push boat captain must have the doors through the cabin open for his unobstructed line of sight.  That creates a wind tunnel blowing from front to back throughout the cabin.  The only slightly warm place is my small office room, where I have a 1500 watt Lakewood radiator heater. 

Toward the end of the day the wind and waves were so strong that spray began coming over the bow.  It then froze on the deck making it difficult to walk.  After splitting a few blocks of wood, it became apparent that the deck was too dangerous.  We docked at the Rivercrest Marina.at Madison at about 5 p.m.  I stayed aboard.  Later, while the crew was gone to town, the harbor master, Bill Peckinpaugh, came down to collect $30 for our overnight stay. Went to bed about 8 p.m.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 4, 2006 - The throttle and gears were frozen closed on the push boat.  Finally, the crew freed them and we cast off at about 9:30 a.m.

Before casting off, we installed two new shelves for the crockpot and the camp-type cook stove.  I had my first stove cooked breakfast, rice, toast, summer sausage and tea.  It tasted better than food at a fine restaurant.

We continue to have problems with the wood burning stove.  It keeps going out.  I have tried my cell phone this morning without success.  The deck and much of the exterior of the boat are coated with ice.  The steps to the upper deck are especially slippery.  The waves continue to cast a spray over the front deck.  I did split some wood on the deck, with limited success, and much risk.

Last night was quite cold, but the propane heater worked well, along with now four blankets. It was quite comfortable, but wind does continue to infiltrate through all of the many cracks and crevices of the boat natural to this style boat. The green poplar sawmill lumber is beginning to dry and shrink, splitting and leaving additional wind opportunities.  Apparently the family would have had a similar experience, albeit without a generator and other modern necessities. 

Life does continue to slow down.  I no longer readily remember the day of the week.  Time so far has passed quickly. I no longer wear the street shoes I wore when I boarded.  I now wear insulated boots, much more comfortable, stable and warm.

The power just went out as the generator apparently exhausted its fuel supply.  We are now bobbing up and down, apparently as the result of the wake from barge tows. I continue to try to use the cell phone and air card, without success.  I hope the Court will defer action on pending cases until I return.  I notified chambers by praecipe notice of my schedule, with a reference to the web site.

It is about 1 p.m. The wave action is strong, winds at about 9 mph.  The boat has slowed because of the adverse conditions. 

We had to stop at Jeffersonville because the pusharms had bent more. It will have to be repaired before we can go further. 

Carlton Neville flew in from Orlando to ride for a while.  He is staying at a hotel overnight in Louisville and will join us tomorrow.

I called Birch’s office and left a message with his secretary that he and/or Evan are welcome to come and ride.

I continue to have no access to the Internet. I called chambers for both pending cases and asked the law clerk to check ECF for the praecipe notice of scheduled absence from the office.  We had difficulty with the cell connection.

Went to Wal-Mart to get additional items to make life more convenient on the boat, kitchen items mostly.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 5, 2006 - The crew repaired the push knee with heavy timber we brought left over from constructing the boat.  We cast off at about 9:45 a.m.  We were joined by Carlton Neville, who took a taxi from his hotel to the boat ramp.  We then passed through our second lock.  We were locked through with a barge tow three wide and three long.  It took about 45 minutes to complete.  We then stood aside and let the barge tow past, since it is going about 10 mph, while we are doing about 6 mph.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 6, 2006 - Mark joined us, and along with Carlton and John, we went to Corydon.  Our first stop was at the O’Bannon Publishing Company, which publishes the Corydon Democrat.  It was organized in 1856, and has been in the family nearly all the years since.  I had been good friends with the late Bob O’Bannon, and had been a staunch supporter of his son, the late Frank O’Bannon.  I met Frank and Judy’s son, John.  While there we met and interviewed Jackie Carpenter.  We were then interviewed by Lee Cable, a former river captain, and Tonya Windell.

We then went to the Visitor’s Center and met Nancy.  She gave us a tour of Indiana’s old state capitol building.  As a former Indiana state representative, I was permitted to sit in one of the seats in the old House of Representatives chamber.

Of special interest was the picture and story of Polly Strong, a young black woman living in the early 1800s who sued for her freedom from a prominent leader in Vincennes, a Mr. Hyacinthe Lasselle, who claimed to hold her in slavery by virtue of the Ordinance of 1787 in which Virginia ceded away its claim to western lands.  She lost in the Knox Circuit Court.  She went to the Indiana Supreme Court, who set her free by virtue of Indiana's 1816 constitution that banned slavery in the state. What a precedent by our state for the much later contrary U.S. Supreme Court Dred Scott decision.  Had that Court followed Indiana, the turmoil that followed as the North rejected that decision, as shown in the  Lincoln-Douglas debates might never have happened.  The poignancy of that decision, in conjunction with Dick’s story, related elsewhere, overwhelms the mind.

We went to the Verizon Wireless store to check my computer's wireless card and cell phone. Neither are giving good service on the river.

We have just learned that the temperature is to fall radically tomorrow, and the wind is to pick up, making travel on the river problematic.  We have decided to change plans and go do the Lincoln part of this story travel tomorrow.  We will remain docked here tomorrow night and resume river travel the following day.

I am losing track of days and time.  Tonya Windell from the Corydon Democrat came aboard late this evening to take numerous pictures. One person came by and demanded I step off the boat to have my picture taken.  I declined the demand.  He insisted to know if I was just the deck hand.  I told him “yes.”

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2006 - John Newton from Indiana State University's Alumni Affairs Department joined us this morning. The wind was too strong to leave the dock.  We changed our schedule and John Cooper, John Newton, Carlton Neville and I all went by JN’s vehicle to Little Pigeon Primitive Baptist Church, located near Dale in Lincoln State Park.  We filmed the cemetery and church, as well as the grave site of Abraham Lincoln's sister, Sara Grigsby, and her husband, Aaron. No one from the church was there to meet us.  Elder Tim Hopper, the pastor told me by voice mail that it was ok to go and film. The church has some construction being done on its front. 

From ther we went to the federal Lincoln Park. We filmed the Visitor’s Center, the tombstone of Lincoln's mother, the homestead, and the spring where the Lincolns drew their water.

At the visitor’s center we interviewed the historian, Mike Capps.  He had an extensive knowledge of Lincoln, especially his life from 1816 to 1830, in Indiana, as a boy from ages 7 to 21.  He said that the Tom Lincoln family left Elizabethtown, Ky because they had (1) lost two farms to bad title, and (2) because the Primitive Baptist Chruch there had split over slavery, with Tom Lincoln opposed to slavery.  Mr. Capps' view is that Lincoln's views were formed by the pioneer environment of  Southern Indiana, by hard work, and to some extent, by the church.  He said that being anti-slavery did not mean that the same person did not hold racist views.           

From there we went to Rocky Point to Shubal Litle Pioneer Village.  I had been told that an Elder Adam Shumaker, with anti-slavery views, had been the minister at Litle Pigeon while the Lincolns were there.  Apparently Lincoln had the gift of mimicry and could mimic the sermon nearly verbatim, to the amusement of his friends.

We returned to the boat, mostly by the river scenic route, checking possible landing sites along the way.  When we arrived at the boat after dark at about 7 p.m., we found that the river had gone down several inches, thus lodging the bow on the landing site, leaving us concerned about whether we could float the bow off the dock.  John Newton, who had stayed in a motel the night before, joined us on the boat for the night, sleeping on a cot in the front room. 

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 8, 2006 - The temperature was about 14 degrees this morning.  It was about 45 degrees, later about 22 degrees in the cabin. 

We launched by using the pushboat to push and then pull the stern, thereby rocking the boat off the dock. The boat then floated off without further problem.

I keep adding more hooks to hang things throughout the boat. The camping styple metal plates and cups are useless. They turn the food and tea cold before you take the first bite or drink.  We docked at Dirby, Indiana at about 4 p.m., then went to the Dirby General Store for supplies, gasoline, funnel for the generator and some electrical supplies to attempt repair the second light in the main room that has never functioned. 

Carlton and I had dinner at the Dirby Ramsey’s Tavern.  Execellent buffet for $8.  John Cooper and son transported John Newton back to his vehicle at Brandenburg to return home.     

The crew has expressed concern that the Mississippi part of the trip will be more dangerous, and may require an additional push boat to get us through the 17-mile stretch of the river that requires transit within a fixed amount of time.  I told John that if there is any danger then there should be no persons other than me on the flatboat, including crew, and that if there is any danger to the current push boat or crew, then we should substitute a larger push boat. That remains to be determined when we reach Evansville, now expected at sometime after noon Sunday. 

The generator has gone out and cannot be started.  We will replace it tomorrow if it continues to malfunction.

Time continues to go fast.  I had been apprehensive about such an extended time away from D.C., but now feel almost removed from place and time, transported in mind to my ancestors and what they did with so little material possessions.

People continue to come down to the dock and express amazement and interest in the flatboat.  I continue to split wood for the stove and fire pit.  The stove almost overheated tonight and had to have water put on it to avoid any problem. 

I told John Newton that if ISU has an interest in visiting the boat for study purposes, that would be welcome.  I also suggested after this trip is completed, that we could at some time launch the boat on the Wabash River and go down to the Ohio.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 9, 2006 - We left Dirby late, about 9 a.m. EST.  For the second or third time the throttle on the push boat froze and delayed departure. 

We went through the Cannelton Lock without incident.  Carlton tied off the boat to the wall. 

The generator remained out.  We substituted a smaller backup generator.  Jeremiah purchased a larger generator at Sam’s Club and brought it to us at the end of the day. 

The stove continues to be a problem.  If we use it in the customary manner, it never gets hot and goes out quickly.  I found that by taking the entire top off we could use it almost like an open fire or fireplace with much greater heat production – smoke in the cabin then becomes a problem.  The pushboat captain does not want a fire in the firepit during travel, because it interferes with his line of sight, which is directly through the center of the entire boat, with both the front and rear doors open.  That creates a freezing wind tunnel.  But how can we compare our minor discomfort to that endured without complaint by those who traveled this route 200 years ago?

The satisfaction in making this journey far exceeds any temporary problems.

We arrived at Grandview public dock at about 5:30 p.m. During the afternoon the weather moderated.  It was quite comfortable on both decks.  In fact, I nearly fell asleep while sitting on the top deck. 

I have had sporadic cell phone access, but no air card internet access. 

Birch called and wished me well – said he could not join but would be here in spirit. 

We have met a few barge tows today.  None of them rocked us in any significant amount.             

In reading back over the past entries, I notice that most of them deal with the hardships on this boat.  I have reported those difficulties to show in some small measure the hardships my family faced on their journey.  Mine is a journey of remembrance.  Theirs was a journey in hopes of a better life. 

They had lost three farms in Kentucky.  My grandfather Closs, looking for a better life, said, “we are going to Missouri Territory.”  My Uncle Wilson was on his way to his life as a renowned Primitive Baptist minister.  My grandfather Jeremiah was on his way to founding our family farm in southwestern Indiana 175 years ago. 

When asked, I have stated that our name is Drake, but our blood is Thompson.  Wilson and Jeremiah Thompson were ever present in our home in our formative years.  We wanted in some way to measure up to them..  We read, re-read and then discussed Uncle Wilson’s autobiography. When my father, Mervin E. Drake, felt called to preach, his first thought was that he could not measure up to Uncle Wilson.

As we pass along the riverbank I think back to some of the anecdotes Uncle Wilson reported in his 1867 autobiography. 

When they were hungry, he overpowered a deer in the water to provide meat for his family. 

When his wife fell from a canoe into the cold Ohio River water, he rescued her with a strength he did not know he possessed. 

When their flatboat was about to go down in the rapids, he, his wife, and grandfather Closs saved the boat and those on board by rowing for their lives. 

While they were traversing the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, grandfather Jeremiah and his cousin John Reynolds were taking the horses overland, all to meet at Uncle Benjamin’s cabin in the wilderness in Missouri Territory. 

Much later in life, when he had reached the pinnacle of success, Wilson was on his way to a preaching engagement.  He was dusty and unkempt from his travel on the dirt road.  When he arrived at his destination and went to the door of the family where he was to spend the night, the lady of the house did not recognize him and instructed him to go to the back door, for, she said, “we have an important man, Wilson Thompson, coming for supper.  I don’t want him to see someone like you at our front door." Later that evening, when he had been received and had made himself presentable, he was seated at a sumptuous frontier table, all laid out for him.  He said “I will have cornbread and buttermilk.”

I would not be in any other place this night. 

This boat carries a foundation stone from Uncle Jeremiah’ s cabin, from the site where I have built my cabin. It carries a foundation stone from the Turman’s Creek Primitive Baptist Church, my home church, first founded in about 1823, reconstituted in 1893, and where I was baptized on my birthday, September 26, 1948. It carries water from grandfather Jeremiah’s spring, which my Dad helped me to locate, and which we have now reclaimed. It carries oak saplings from grandfather Jeremiah’s farm, to be planted at Uncle Benjamin’s grave site near Jackson, Mo., who received my family into his cabin when they arrived December 31, 1810. This boat carries an original hewn log from Old Bethel’s 1813 church building, hewn and built by my ancestors and others.  It carries my melancholy thoughts about a slave named Dick (no last name), baptized by Uncle Wilson in 1812 undre threat of judicial retribution by Dick’s slaveowner, Judge Robert Green, Esquire.  Dick died in 1864, at the age of 103, one year before freedom came. It carries my wonder at the record book of Old Bethel Primitive Baptist Church, replete with entries of the baptism by Uncles Wilson and Benjamin, of so many slaves in slave territory and state Missouri, and then their acceptance by my ancestors and others as full brothers and sisters in Old Bethel Primitive Baptist Church.

Yes, I wonder, what manner of people were they?  And yes, I would not be in any other place this night.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 9, 2006 - We cast off at about 8:30 a.m., joined by a friend of John Cooper for whom he had built a boat some time ago, Sister Amelia from Owensboro, Ky. 

Last night we had sufficient heat to keep warm.  We replaced the defective generator with a new unit that is rated at 5200 watts.  It is still not large enough to carry the load, but certainly an improvement over the defective one, and/or no generator at all.           

We  locked through Newburgh Lock without incident.  We docked at Evansvile near the LST boat at approximately 4 p.m., local time.  We then were requested and did re-dock due to our proximity to the gasoline punps at the marina with our woodburning stove. 

Sister Amielia was met by one of her friends and departed. My friend Carlton Neville departed to drive a rental car back to Louisville Airport for his flight home tomorrow morning.

We were later joined by our videographer, Mark Gibson. Byron Rohrig from the Courier & Press came, did an interview and toured the boat.  We were joined by Sullivan County Democratic Party Chairman Lynn Hamilton, along with Sullivan Mayor Timothy Boles and his wife Georgia Boles.  The interview continued with others asking and answering questions for the reporter, Mr. Rohrig.  Everyone then departed, but not before Lynn gave me some hints on how to cook the venison roast then in the iron kettle on the woodburning stove.

We are continuing our efforts to locate a more powerful pushboat to get up the Mississippi.  We keep hearing warnings about the dangers we will confront with the Mississippi barge strings.

My typing, spelling and draftsmanship have fallen victim to cold fingers and a laptop not happy with the cold environment. A number of people have commented about Mark Gibson’s good work in editing and correcting these notes.  Others have remarked about the user-friendly website, which Mark also designed.  Still others have expressed their appreciation for “A Slave’s Story”.  Credit for that goes to Jane, Steve and Kathy at Cape Girardeau Archives, along with Margaret M. Mates from Cape Girardeau who compiled “A Resource Guide to the Slaves, Slaveowners and Free Blacks of Capte Girardeau County: 1797-1865.”

I wonder how it will feel at journey’s end.    

MONDAY, DECEMBER 11, 2006 - We cast off at about 8:15 a.m. Evansville time.  Mark Gibson and a photographer from the Evansville Courier filmed our departure.  We were joined for the day by Hugh Oxendine, his wife Kathie (who brought good food for lunch)  and son Quinn.  Also two of the four construction crew members  Ron Hall and Kris Guess (John Cooper and I were the other members of that crew – I was the apprentice).  It was rewarding to see those who had worked on the boat enjoy the results of their labor.

Today’s sail was uneventful, except for the heating stove, which kept smoking, even after Hugh gave us instructions on its operation.  We met a few barge strings but did not rock from their propeller wash as much as before, or maybe I am becoming immune.

We arrived at Mt Vernon, Indiana about 2:45 p.m. After we tied off, we made minor cabin repairs.  All guests returned home.  We were finally stable enough in calm waters to raise our tall flagpole.  That was a meaningful accomplishment, as shown below.

At my request before we set sail on this journey, John had planed a walnut board taken from the farm and carved on its face, “Budapest 1956.”  That carving honors those young Hungarian Freedom Fighters, college students who sought freedom from tyranny.  At the urging of my country’s government, they rose against the Soviet Union October 23, 1956, so long ago.  I was a sophomore in college and an enlisted man in the ranks of the Indiana National Guard.  I wanted to go to their aid, but that was not allowed.  They experienced freedom for 10 days.  I lived.  They died, put to death by the Soviets, November 1958.

And so before making this journey of remembrance, I had another remembrance to honor, that I had every day for 50 years since that time felt was owed.  I went to Budapest October 23, 2006, to the 50 year commemoration of that uprising for freedom.  The police and soldiers of the current Hungarian government attacked with tear gas, projectiles and direct physical attack, and pushed many of us into a sealed alley, just for being there to honor freedom’s heroes.  A young woman, whom I did not know, caught up in that same alley, and fearing for the safety of her friends, when I answered her inquiry of why I was in that alley, told me to follow her, she would show the way to safety, away from the police and soldiers, and she did.  I do not even know her name and will never meet her again.  But with that unselfish act, she imprinted on my soul a deeper understanding of the gift and cost of freedom - freedom won through struggle against tyranny by my ancestors and others. Upon my return from Budapest, I asked the boat builder to build the flag mast tall. And now we finally have the flag mast up.  But there is more.

Tonight I went ashore alone for dinner. I asked the waitress who ask some other customers where I could purchase a flag yet this night.  I was directed to the local Mt. Vernon American Legion.  I went there.  A veteran who was also there to purchase a flag recognized me from today’s Evansville newspaper article when he heard me ask to purchase the flag. Consultation among his friends ensued as to the appropriate size of flag for this boat.  He stood up to show where a five-foot flag would come, using his body as a measuring tool.  With size finally determined (3 feet by 5 feet), I went to pay for both my flag and his.  Unbeknownst to me, he had already paid for both his and mine, and would not accept reimbursement.  The bill was paid by a veteran whom I did not know and whom I will never see again in this life.  He wished me safe sailing.

My life in the law and politics, and my life in Washington, have given cause for a degree of skepticism about the innate goodness of man.  This journey, that veteran’s generosity, the story of the slave Dick,  baptized by my uncle against the slaveowner’s orders, and the story of  the young slave girl Polly Strong, freed by an Indiana court nearly 200 years ago, have given cause for some re-evaluation.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 12, 2006 - I went to have breakfast off the boat, but found fire fighting equipment blocking access to the restaurant.  After I returned to the boat, a man docked downriver came by and left a bag of breakfast food.

It is raining.  Visibility is limited, so we did not cast off until  9:40 a.m.  There were several persons in vehicles parked at the ramp watching as we cast off. 

Even though it was raining, I did not want to depart Mt. Vernon without raising the flag..  The flag is now flying over this vessel.  I have never before known the emotion I felt at that moment, and the true meaning represented by that flag, until I saw it flying today over this vessel.  That is what my ancestors gave us.  Freedom.  And even this current administration will finally be rendered impotent in its effort to curtail that freedom.

At about 12:30 p.m. today we locked through the  John Meyers Lock.  At 1 o'clock, we passed the confluence of the Wabash and Ohio  Rivers.  The Jeremiah Thompson farm is located about l00 miles due north and 6 miles east of the Wabash.  The men at the lock used a rope and bucket to drop down to us a copy of today’s Evansville Courier showing a picture of the boat as we departed Evansville. 

We arrived at Old Shawnee Town at about 2:40 p.m. We were met there by Elder John O’Dell, a Primitive Baptist minister, whom my parents have known for several years.  He took me for a tour of the town, including showing me the bank that refused to lend the village of Chicago any money for “it was just a village, too far from Shawnee Town, and would not survive.”  He then took me to Shawnee Town to see the courthouse mural, painted from molasses.  We had a late lunch there.  He then took me to see the old farm and cabin where slaves were kept as indentured servants to work in the salt industry in this free state of Illinois.  He said the farm also had a breeding component.  Further, the owner also captured freedmen and sold them back into slavery.

He told me that Cave in Rock was once used by Primitive Baptists as a church, apparently before my ancestors made their journey.  It was later taken over by pirates.

Finally, he told me that somewhere not far from Cape Girardeau, there is a courthouse at Thebes, on the Illinois side of the Mississippi, where Dred Scott was held until he could be returned to his slaveowner.

It seems the further into this journey, the more intertwined it becomes with the history of Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, and the whole issue of slavery, even so long ago.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 13, 2006  -  We were joined this morning by Elder Robert Webb and his wife, Linda, two of their young friends, Henry and William Nolden, and Elder John O’Dell. Jeremiah Cooper left yesterday and was replaced by Perry MacArthur. Elder O’Dell and Linda Webb left as we cast off. Linda brought lunch, including pies, for the group today.  We had heavy fog this morning, so our departure was delayed until about 9:30 a.m. local time.

As this journey continue I see a different America and remember Robert Kennedy’s 1968 campaign for president. Throughout the 1960s, I had considered his support for civil rights, for the poor, and his opposition to the Vietnam war as cynical political opportunism in his never-ending struggle with President Lyndon Johnson.  However, by 1968 I had become disillusioned with Johnson and with the war.  The country was wracked and torn over the war.  I put aside my distrust and went to Los Angeles to join the Kennedy campaign.  I saw the frenzied reaction in the black neighborhoods.  Then, on a Saturday night before the upcoming Tuesday election, I went to a huge rally.  Kennedy came late.  The setting was theater in the round.  He walked from corner to corner of the stage, seemingly borne down by the burden of carrying on his shoulders the hopes of a people, and then I knew.  For all of his earlier opportunism,  at that moment I knew he was for real, and I became a believer.  Five days later I was at the election night celebration in the Ambassador Hotel, heard him say “and now on to Chicago,” and then he was dead, and hope died too.

We stopped at Cave-in-Rock, in Hardin County, Illinois.  We went inside the cave and found a majestic room at the cave’s end.  Elder Stephen Stilley was the pastor of Big Creek Primitive Baptist Church, which was constituted July 19, 1806.  This is the same Elder Stilley who was the pastor of Bethel Primitive Baptist Church at the time the Thompson family arrived.  It is interesting to note that both churches were constituted on the same day, two hundred years ago.  Another interesting note is that Elder Stilley was one of the two members of the presbytery that ordained Elder Wilson Thompson.  Of further note is the other member of the presbytery, Elder John Tanner.  According to Elder Wilson Thompson’s autobiography, Elder Tanner was a native of Old Virginia who, for his zeal in religion and his fidelity to the [Primitive] Baptist cause, had been shot and imprisoned there before the revolutionary war during the great persecution of the Baptists by the authorities of the Colonial Church of England..

We docked at Elizabethtown, Illinois at 2:30 p.m. local time.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 14, 2006 – Two of the crew members stayed last night at the state-owned but privately operated Rose Inn, on the promontory near the gazebo with a view overlooking the Ohio River in both directions.  I stayed aboard the boat as I have each night.  Last night I went out to that gazebo in front of the inn jutting out into the bend of the river.  The view at night was spectacular.  I then walked up the hill to a high point in this small river town to get a signal for the internet.

We cast off at 7:45 a.m. local time.  Perry McArthur has been driving the supply truck and going ahead to meet us at the dock at the end of the day.  As we departed I looked ashore and saw Perry saluting the flag flying over the boat.  When I  saw that gesture of respect I remembered another incident in Budapest.  As I noted earlier, those who had come for the 1956 Uprising commemoration were all barred by thousands of police and soldiers from attending that the event.  As I went looking for access to the statue of the Uprising leader, I went down a small side street, only to find it too barred by police and/or soldiers in riot gear, with plastic shields, drawn weapons, sub-machine gun and tear gas canister.  As I stood there an old Hungarian man with dual citizenship in America, with went up to the police line and began loudly condemning them for the shame they were bringing on their country at a time set aside to honor freedom’s heroes.  He showed them his American passport and said: “I was here at the Uprising.  Here’s my American passport.  So what are you going to do about that?” The police took out a video camera and began filming the old man.  I walked over and stood at his side and said: “I’m also an American.  Take my picture too.”  As the old man and I walked away, still free, we bid each other farewell, never to meet again in this life.  I felt honored to have been in his presence.  What cost freedom – that brave old man standing there with his only protection his American passport, and his courage.

Goddaughter Reggina has stayed in contact as best she could with the signal problems.  She keeps telling Carolyn she is worried that I have been gone too long.

We just locked through Smithland Lock.  Next stop will be Fort Massic. John has located a much more powerful tug boat to get us up the Mississippi.  Our thoughts now are to arrive tomorrow evening at Ft. Defiance at the confluence of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers.  Then we hope to do a night run Friday night to reach Cape Girardeau by 9 a.m. Saturday morning.  We can then complete the commemorations on Saturday.

We locked through Smithland Lock early afternoon without incident.  We docked at 3:10 p.m. We are tied off just across the river from Paducah, Ky.  We had supper at a small diner, the only one in town.  We built a fire in the deck fire pit.  The firewood we brought on board from home will be almost gone by tomorrow.

Perry McArthur and I sat by the fire for several hours discussing political events and the war in Iraq.  Perry is an attorney from Gallatin, Tennessee, with a keen perception of world affairs.

Mark Gibson will go to Cave-In-Rock to take an interview with Elder John O’Dell.  He will then join us at the ramp at Ft. Defiance State Park for the last leg of this journey.  The journey is soon coming to an end.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 15, 2006 - We cast off at 8:05 a.m. local time.  We are going to shoot the next dam, rather than going through the lock due to the water being so high.    .  We just went over Dam and Lock 52.  A tug went ahead drawing 10 feet.  We are drawing about 14-24  inches.  It was unremarkable, other than the large swirls as we crossed over. A couple of hours later we went over Dam and Lock 53. Each saved us about an hour when we did not have to lock through.

In reviewing Wilson Thompson’s book today, I am reminded that he made a trip overland back to the Cincinnati area in August 1811.  He was accompanied by his wife and four-month-old son, Gregg.  On that trip he took the trace from above Cape Girardeau.  He passed the Salt Works at [Old] Shawneetown.  He then crossed over the river into Kentucky and made camp there.

We again changed docking plans due to Ft. Defiance being unavailable.  We docked at Cairo, Illinois at 2 p.m.  The push boat then left for home.  We are awaiting a much larger tug to push us up the Mississippi.  That tug, very costly, will be here at 6 a.m. tomorrow morning.  It will take us about eight hours to get to the Cape.  We went to a small diner in town.  A local resident told us all about Cairo’s history, including racial strife. The town is suffering giant economic problems.

Jeff Yates with the Waterways Journal stopped by to get take some pictures.  Mark Gibson arrived with his wife Amy and infant daughter Meredith.  Mark took some shots and they then left to return tomorrow at sunrise for castoff.

My parents, Elder Mervin E. Drake and Margaret A. Drake (aged 92), arrived with Carolyn.  All came aboard for a view.  They then left to go to Cape Girardeau to await our arrival tomorrow.  Perry, John and I all are to sleep on the boat tonight.  I was thrown from the gangplank when we were hit with a heavy tugboat wake, causing the gangplank to shift.  Nothing injured except pride.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 16, 2006 - We waited at the dock for the arrival of the new towing company,  Cape Girardeau Fleeting Company.   The tug, Curtis Moore, a thousand horse power triple screw, arrived at about 10:15 a.m. We rigged and cast off about 10:40 a.m.  John went ahead by land in our supply vehicle to make arrangements for docking. Perry, Mark and I all remained on board. Captain Rick Hendershott piloted the tug, with Bill Taylor as mate. Captain Hendershott helped build the tug Curtis Moore and has operated it for more than 20 years. 

All went well as we rounded the confluence of the two rivers.  However, once we started up the Mississippi, life took a sudden change.  The current was running against us at least 5 mph.  The tug was so powerful and had to push so hard against the current that the deck canted down into the onrushing water, while the stern canted up.  That allowed water to rush in over the top of the front deck. We bailed until we were nearly worn out.  We could not keep up with the rising water sweeping the deck and then into the cabin.    After what seemed like an eternity, we finally succeeded in starting a small pump hurriedly lent to us from the tug. The water outran that pump, even as we renewed bailing. We pulled a second pump onboard from the tug. Its expensive discharge hose was too long, keeping the pump from priming. We cut that expensive hose in two pieces without a second thought. We all took turns manning the intake ends of the hoses for the two pumps. 

We ran short of fuel for the generator for lights and had to borrow from the tug’s reserve. In the meantime, all of us were all wet and cold and hungry. We finally started a fire in the stove to reduce the chill, and to cook hotdogs that tasted better than the most expensive steak. The bow listed so heavily to the right we thought it would run under the onrushing waves and founder. At one point we had less than 12 inches free-board on the left side of the bow, 6 inches on the right.  The tug mate told us if the tug used any more power the boat would go down. Water kept coming. The pumps just barely kept up with the deck water but could not clear the cabin, where the water kept rising until it spilled out onto the deck.

We ran about 10 mph against a 5-mph current.  The blunt front of the boat acted and had the effect of a bulldozer pushing dirt.  In our case the bow was moving a mountain of water. At one point we were shipping water over the gunnel almost every other wave. We went to the rear hull access directly under the bunk where I had slept all during this journey. The tug mate put a third pump hose there if all else failed.  We called John for advice on where to chop a hole in the front deck for access to pump the deck hull.  There was no distinction between crew and passengers at this time. We all fought hour after hour to save the boat as water kept coming in from all sides like the cold did almost weeks ago. But we made it. About 20 miles out we saw an extraordinary sunset and a bald eagle.

We arrived at Cape Girardeau at 8:05 p.m. We were met there by Carolyn, my parents, Mark’s wife and infant baby, Anita Meintz, Doris Jean Arnold, along with her daughter and grandson.  All on board the Journey of Remembrance congratulated each other for the teamwork that brought us into port.  We all said well done to the tug captain and mate.

When my ancestors made this journey, the men left the flatboat at the confluence of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers, at a place called Bird’s Landing.  The women stayed aboard.  The flatboat, with its flat hull and square bow, was not designed to go up river.  Rather, it was designed only to float down river with the current.  The men traded for two pairs of moccasins and walked the remaining 70 miles to Uncle Benjamin’s cabin, located in the green wilderness.  They arranged to take a keelboat back to the confluence to pick up the household goods and their wives and sister.  However, the keelboat only made it 30 miles down river before being blocked by the ice.  They then hired an oxen team and wagon, which immediately encountered difficulty, broke down, scattered, broke and allowed the household goods to be saturated with snow and water.  The oxen team and wagon finally made it to the keelboat, located at a place called Harris Settlement (which was a place unknown to the archivists), where what few salvageable goods that remained were stored until spring, awaiting the ice clearing.  After the ice cleared, the men then cordeled the keelboat up the Mississippi.  Cordeling was the method by which the keelboat was pulled upstream against the current by one man walking and pulling a rope along the river bank, while others on deck used poles to keep the boat from grounding.

John Cooper built a boat from Jeremiah Thompson’s trees.  The boat, crew and passangers fought the Mississippi River.  We won.  The boat Journey of Remembrance honored her christening. She sailed true. She now goes home in honor.

We were on the water 17 days. We had some difficult times. But nothing we encountered can equal the struggles faced by our ancestors. Nothing can equal the struggles faced by those two enslaved persons whom I have come to know in spirit on this journey.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 17, 2006 - Today we went to Summers Cemetery where Uncle Benjamin Thompson is buried.  We commemorated our ancestors by planting three oak saplings from Jeremiah’s Indiana farm, and watered them with water from Jeremiah’s spring.  I was joined there by Carolyn Drake, Elder Mervin and Margaret Drake, Anita Meintz, Doris Jean Arnold, Mark, Amy and Meredith Gibson, John Cooper, Perry McArthur, and Robert and Betty Renne (owners of the farm surrounding the cemetery).

All but one of the stones are down or gone. Uncle Benjamin’s stone is gone.

We dedicated one tree to the memory of my ancestors, and one to those two enslaved people I have come to know on this journey. The third tree I dedicated to freedom.

And so the Journey of Remembrance has ended.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 19, 2006 - The boat returned to the Jeremiah Thompson farm and was lifted back onto the lake, completed at 6 p.m. this evening. Thanks to all who made this journey possible.