I just submitted documentation to renew my Merchant Mariner’s Credential (MMC), commonly known as a captain’s license. Every five years it needs to be done, and this was the seventh time I’ve done it. Funny word, credential. Like creed or credibility, its essence is about belief, and what others might believe about the person who has it.
I believe the last five years went by faster than ever before. I can’t prove how that happened, but it’s undeniably true.
It took many years to apply for my first MMC. I had graduated from college before I had enough sea time documented-720 days, to even be evaluated.
In those days, we took our papers to one of the US Coast Guard’s Regional Exam Centers. The nearest one to me was in Boston. There was a real address then, corresponding to a physical building, with a help counter inside, manned by real human beings who were competent and helpful, and there.
I took a number and sat with the others awaiting an evaluation. The silent comradery with real mariners in that room was something I still cherish.
An older guy (probably younger then than I am now) glanced at my folder as if to size me up.
“What are you going for?”
“100-ton Master, near coastal,” I said.
It was more than I needed to teach for Outward Bound, and captain coastal schooners, which was all I wanted to do, besides getting married and having a family.
“First time?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good enough,” he smiled. “With 100-ton and a dollar, you can get yourself a cup of coffee almost anywhere.”
“Yes, Sir. I hope so.”
The captain was not insulting the size of my aspiration so much as welcoming me into the union of those who made their living on the sea.
I had to draw it out of him that he was a Master of Oceans, unlimited tonnage. He could go anywhere. But his credential came with a cost I did not envy. He was away from his family for months at a time.
I was only three weeks from getting married.
My papers were approved that day. And two weeks later I came back for the hours-long written examination which I passed the first time. (Thank be to God, and a lot of studying.)
“Congratulations,” said the Coast Guard lieutenant who shared the good news.
That first license was suitable for framing. I was more proud of it than my college degree.
The first boat I captained with that license was a beautiful 68’ ketch that my wife and I delivered to the Virgin Islands from Newport, stopping in Bermuda to see a friend and wait out a storm.
Those were beautiful days.
These days, decades later, all my framed credentials are in a box somewhere in my garage. I’m not sure I could lay my hands on them even if I gave myself a day. The Bachelor of Arts, the Master of Divinity, and the solemnly calligraphed ordination declarations from the Episcopal Church (one for becoming a deacon, the other for becoming a priest) have not seen light for many years.
Such symbols of achievement and identity are good forever they say -or at least for the rest of my life - whichever comes first. But unlike my captain’s license, they don’t need to be renewed or even seen. What I say on Sunday means more to my people in our non-denominational island church than the glass and mahogany-framed papers I can’t find.
But my captain’s license…. I carry it in my backpack wherever I go, even to church.
My latest looks like a passport. I’ve heard that the next version of the MMC will be a piece of paper small enough to fold in a wallet. Convenience has a cost.
I did not have to - or did not get to – go down to Boston to renew my credential. The devil of progress replaced the people in Boston with a machine in West Virginia. All my latest “papers” – including sea time and an updated medical exam - I “uploaded” as “PDF” files into my “device” on kitchen counter.
I “clicked” little “buttons” on the screen. Done. Send.
An email shot back at the speed of light confirming the reception of my materials: “Please do not respond to this email. This is an unmonitored account. This email contains important information about your MMC…. For more information about the improvements we’re making to the Mariner Credentialing Program, visit our website….”
I’m sorry (not sorry), but no one can make me believe that these “improvements” have made things better. The credential that most matters for those of us who go down to the sea in ships (of any size) deserves better. I’d rather be blessed with inconveniences of real people in a real places. I’d rather have to drive to Boston and make a day of it.
