…was one my Father’s recurring refrains, and whenever I stare at the horizon or any body of water deep in thought, it comes back to me bathed in nostalgia, and sometimes with a flash of joy.

In the last year of his life, I remember how he sat on his favorite red leather wing chair, staring deeply into the flames in the fireplace, his big blue eyes lost in thought. When asked “Daddy, what are you thinking?” he would blurt “I am lost in the cradle of the deep”. And that was it. No explanation. Just that.

So yesterday, while I was ruminating about Dante’s circles, I thought of him. And down my rabbit hole I went.

My Father, John Dillon, lost his Father when he was a young 14 year old. The absence of his Father weighed heavily all his life. His Mother, my Grandmother, had worked for RCA Victor in Buenos Aires, and had a collection of old 78s. I believe I found the source of my Father’s saying, although it was not “lost”, but rather, it was “rocked”. The source was an old hymn, the lyrics of which were written by an amazing woman, Emma Willard (1787-1870), of Connecticut.

Willard moved to Middlebury, Vermont and had requested to attend classes at Middlebury College, but had been denied the opportunity. A persistent visionary, she was a pioneer in women’s education, and in 1814 started the Middlebury Female Seminary. Irony of ironies, today, her home is the Middlebury College Admissions Office. 

Emma Willard’s indefatigable pursuit of women’s education brings to mind my Mother in Law’s own common refrain, of British origin, so in order to rhyme you have to use English pronounciation:

“Patience and perseverance made a Bishop of his Reverence!”

So now, with patience and perseverance, my next project is to edit and publish my Father’s prolific writings which he only did for his children: a history of the Dillons, an autobiography “Don Juan Nadie” (Don Juan Nobody), and a novel “Murder on the Bullet Train”. They are too good to be kept all in the family!

Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep
Author: Emma Willard

Rocked in the cradle of the deep,
I lay me down in peace to sleep;
Secure I rest upon the wave,
For Thou, O Lord, hast power to save.
I know Thou wilt not slight my call,
For Thou dost mark the sparrow’s fall;
And calm and peaceful is my sleep,
Rocked in the cradle of the deep;
And calm and peaceful is my sleep,
Rocked in the cradle of the deep.

And such the trust that still were mine,
Tho’ stormy winds swept o’er the brine;
O, tho’ the temptest’s fiery breath
Rous’d me from sleep to wreck and death,
In ocean’s cave still safe with Thee,
The germ of immortality;
And calm and peaceful is my sleep,
Rocked in the cradle of the deep;
And calm and peaceful is my sleep,
Rocked in the cradle of the deep.