West of Guadeloupe, the Eastern Caribbean

3 December 2012

We lost a student Saturday. Casey Schulman, a 22-year-old senior at the University of Virginia, was snorkeling and swimming with friends off a catamaran just a few miles from Roseau, Dominica, where the MV Explorer had docked that morning.

 A catamaran is a boat with two hulls—two “bodies”—that serve almost like skis, allowing the boat to skim along the water with less resistance than a single-hulled boat.

This catamaran, named “The Passion,” is a sail boat, a very simple design: a flat platform connecting the two hulls; a single mast extending up from the platform; and hanging down from the center, at the aft end of the platform, a small prop to drive the catamaran forward when docking or when the wind is too light to do the job.

Casey was sucked into that rotating prop. Details of how or why she was between the hulls and close to the prop with the boat’s engine running are mixed, but that’s where she was. She was gravely injured. Friends pulled her out of the water, and the boat rushed to a nearby dock. An ambulance was waiting and took her to a Roseau hospital, but not in time. Though some of those who were on the catamaran claim that Casey was conscious when she was pulled from the water, the doctor at the hospital said Casey’s injuries were so grave that she probably hadn’t survived the initial impact with the rotating prop.

The entire ship’s community is in mourning. Even though many, myself included, didn’t know Casey personally, when you spend over three months together on what is truly a small, floating village, you recognize everyone and feel connected to everyone. When a seat is open at a dinner table, you join the group. The connection is easy: we’re all part of a grand shared experience.

And Casey was one of those who stood out. She was always smiling, always engaged with others, always animated. And she radiated maturity and intelligence. These were qualities that those who knew her well verified during last night’s memorial service in the union.

Several of my students were among Casey’s closest friends, including a young man, Jack Delehey, from Vanderbilit University, who had a special relationship with her. Jack spoke at the service, describing Casey’s sense of humor, her caring nature, her positive attitude, her warmth. He had us all laughing and crying, especially when he told how his grandfather and Casey’s father had met when they traveled to Halifax in August to see the ship off. Jack’s grandfather pulled Jack aside before the ship sailed and said to him, “Get to know this Casey Schulman. You can tell a lot about someone when you meet the people she came from. This girl has excellent genes. And if she takes after her mother, that’s a bonus!”

You can also tell a lot about someone when you know the people she hangs around with, and students in my classes who were close to Casey—including Jack Delehey—are among my brightest, most mature. They seem to know how to have fun, when to have fun, and how and when to get serious. Based on her friends, Casey was a special person.

Of course, as the father of a 22-year-ol college senior myself, I sympathize especially with Casey’s parents. They were undoubtedly looking forward to welcoming her home on Friday, perhaps even planning to meet the ship as we arrive in Ft. Lauderdale early Friday morning. Now, of course, her homecoming will be very different. I can’t imagine—I don’t even want to imagine—what pain they’re going through.

I’m way behind on this blog, but I’ll eventually catch up. For now, we’re in the final days, and I’m facing a stack of papers and final exams to grade, with a looming Wednesday deadline for submitting final grades to UVA. And, of course, there’s packing.

But, for now, it all seems very small.