July 15, 1950

Eight-year old William Gilligan climbed out of bed, wearing his lone ranger pajamas. His hair stuck up at odd angles, and one sock had come off.

"Hey, Skinny, you up yet?" he asked as he ran to the window and looked out. The sky was dark gray, and it was pouring rain. Will grimaced. He heard a groan behind him and looked at the lumpy sleeping bag on his bedroom floor. Since his father's surgery, Seamus "Skinny" Mulligan had been spending a lot of time at the Gilligan's house. And this morning, the Gilligan family plus one would be driving to the coast to board the Emerald of the Sea. Ellen Gilligan had won tickets for a one-week cruise on the ocean liner.

Leaping across the room, he landed on the bag, forcing an "oomph" from his best friend inside.

Will laughed. "Come on, get up. Looney Tunes is coming on soon. Do you want pancakes? My mom makes the BEST pancakes."

Skinny stuck his head out of the sleeping bag. His red curls were tangled and his face was a mass of freckles. Despite his nickname, he had about 10 pounds over Will. He squirmed out from under Will and wriggled out of his sleeping bag. He grabbed his pillow from behind him and gave Will a good whack.

The boys spent the next ten minutes in a ferocious pillow fight. Will giggled as he got up on his bed and took a flying leap onto Skinny again. Skinny tried to dodge him, but wasn't quite quick enough. He took an elbow to the chin and fell over backwards, causing both boys to break up laughing.

By the time Ellen Gilligan stuck her head in the door to check on the boys, Skinny had him in a headlock and Will had a handful of curls.

Without blinking an eye, she said, "Come on, you two. What's it going to be for breakfast?"

"PANCAKES," they both yelled. Grabbing their pillows and the blankets from Will's bed, they ran by Mrs. Gilligan and thundered down the stairs to the living room. Will's older brother, Danny, had claimed the recliner already, which was the most coveted seat in the house, so the boys threw their blankets and pillows down on the floor in front of the television set and jumped onto the pile. Bridget had opted to eat in the kitchen, away from the "boyish rabble" in the living room.

They were just in time for the first Looney Tunes cartoon. It was one of Will's favorites, with Bugs Bunny and a mother gorilla who catches Bugs and tries to "adopt" him. Shortly after that, Mrs. Gilligan came in with pancakes. The boys set up the tin TV trays at the sofa, and sat down to breakfast.

"Thanks, Mom. You're the best," Will said with a sweet grin. As Ellen reached down to kiss her young son on the forehead, Danny and Skinny leaned over their seats and pretended to be sick.

As the boys dug into their pancakes and enjoyed their cartoons, Patrick Gilligan rushed into the room, clapping his hands. "Come on, eat up. We've got to be on the road in a half-hour. Will, you and Seamus aren't even dressed yet."

"Sorry, Dad. We'll hurry," Will promised.

Six hours later, after a long day of rain, back-seat squabbles, spilled slushies and six failed attempts at Quaker's Meeting, the loaded station wagon pulled into a parking spot in the Philadelphia Port. Down at the far end of the docks was their destination: The Emerald of the Sea.

Fortunately, within the past half-hour, the rain had come to a stop. The sun was actually peaking through the clouds a little as the Gilligans laid eyes on the beautiful ocean liner.

Patrick secured a wheeled cart, and they loaded their luggage on it. Then the kids all ran for the railing to get their first look at the Atlantic Ocean.

William Gilligan stepped up onto the bottom rail. He looked at the ocean in awe. Lifting his face, he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. A large tugboat chugged by, causing a wake that splashed the kids.

Looking up at his father with bright, excited eyes, he asked, "Dad, when I grow up, can I join the Navy? Then I'll get to live on the ocean all the time."

"Will, when you grow up, you can be anything you want to be," he answered with a grin, patting his son on the shoulder.

"WOOHOO!" shouted Will as he and Skinny ran for the gangplank. "I'm gonna be a Sailor!"

April 19, 1958

Will Gilligan paced across his living room and wringed his hands. Pulling back the curtain, he looked out nervously, then glanced at the clock. He looked down at his belt buckle and straightened it. He re-tucked his deep blue polo shirt into his best jeans. Then he started pacing again.

Ellen Gilligan walked into the living room and chuckled. Folding down the back of his collar, she said, "William, calm down. You'll do fine."

He shook his head and waved her away. "But what if I crash? What if I hit someone? I could hit a little old lady. What about Mrs. Murdock. I could run over Mrs. Murdock and then where would Fluffy be?"

Ellen laughed and sat on the edge of the couch as he resumed his pacing and rambled on. "Or even worse! I could HIT FLUFFY! Oh no. No, Mom. I can't do it." He shook his head vigorously. "I can't go out there and hit Fluffy. Mrs. Murdock would be so sad. She'd never forgive me.

"Will," she said.

"Every time I'd see her, I'd have to look in her eyes and see the hate."

"Will," she repeated.

"And then her grandkids, Jessie and Max. They play with Fluffy all the time. They'd hate me, too."

"William," she said, laughing.

"What?" he asked with a crumpled face, as he stopped pacing in front of her, but stood, still wringing his hands.

"Mr. Kelly is here. Don't keep him waiting, honey," she said. Putting her hand on his shoulder and guiding him to the front door, she continued. "Go on, now. You'll be fine. You won't hit Fluffy," she said, and she pushed him gently down the front steps and toward the large red car sitting in his driveway.

An older man got out of the driver's seat. "Good morning, William. Are you ready?" he asked as he tossed the car keys to the frightened teen.

With wide eyes, Will watched the keys fly through the air toward him. Coming to a stop halfway across the lawn, he stood still as the keys hit him in the chest. He stood there and looked down at the keys that had landed right in front of his left foot. He was pale and shaking as he squatted down to pick up the keys. Halfway up, he dropped them again.

After the third try, he finally stood up with the keys in his hand. It seemed to take eons as he walked the rest of the yard and opened the car door. By this time, Mr. Kelly was already seated in the passenger side with a clipboard on his lap.

Will sat in the driver's seat and closed the door. He looked at his mother, still standing on the front steps. He looked at Mr. Kelly. He realized that there was no way he was going to get out of this.

He leaned over and tried to put the key in the ignition. He dropped the keys. Looking at Mr. Kelly with an apologetic grin, he picked them up. He tried again, this time succeeding. He turned the key and released it too quickly, causing the engine to screech in protest.

Mr. Kelly winced. "Relax, William," he said. "You'll do just fine. Now try again and hold the key until the engine catches. Give the gas pedal a tap. No – no – that's the brakes. The other one. There you go."

With the engine started, Will sat gasping for breath. He tried to slow his breathing down and closed his mouth. His nose immediately started to whistle.

Mr. Kelly sighed. After a moment, he said, "Okay, now take the gear selector and put it in Reverse. We are going to back slowly to the end of the driveway."

Will stepped on the gas and pressed down hard, racing the engine.

"NO! No – no. Stop. First, press your foot on the brake and then put it in Reverse. Take the gear selector"

Will put his hand on the lever.

"Okay, good. Now slide it over and down to the "R". Then let it click into place."

Will positioned the lever and clicked it into Drive.

"No. That's Drive. That will make you go forward. Put it near the R for reverse. That will make you go backwards."

Will wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. Then he tried again and succeeded in getting the car in reverse. With his foot still on the brake, he took a careful look up the sidewalk and then turned and looked the other way.

"Oh no," he muttered with dismay. His neighbor, Mrs. Murdock, was walking up the sidewalk with her little Westie, Fluffy, on a leash. In a panic, he shifted the car back up into Park.

"What are you doing?" Mr. Kelly asked.

"I don't want to hit the dog," he said.

Mr. Kelly looked around. "She's on the other side of the street. You're fine."

Will watched and waited until Mrs. Murdock had gone well past the driveway. Then looking in his mirror and taking good looks over both shoulders, he once again pressed down hard on the gas. The engine raced.

"You're back in Park," Mr. Kelly noted. "Put it in Reverse."

Will tried to slide the lever into Reverse. The car jerked viciously and stalled. Mr. Kelly sighed again.

"Start it again," he said. "Okay, now foot on brake – good. Slide it into reverse. Riiight. Now slowly – SLOWLY – put your foot on the gas and press down lightly."

Will pressed down on the gas hard, causing the car to fly down the driveway. Just as they reached the sidewalk, Mr. Kelly slammed on his emergency brake. With his hands on the dashboard, knuckles white, fingers digging in, he whispered.

"Foot on brake. Put it back in drive and just a touch – just a little feather touch on the gas – bring it back up a little bit."

Will did as he instructed. With just a little touch of the gas, Will brought the car back up the driveway. He slid his foot over and stomped on the brake and brought it to a hard stop. As he slid the gear selector into Park, with a huge, proud grin, he said, "I did it."

Mr. Kelly sighed. He got out of the car and walked around to the driver's side. "Good. Very good, William. I think that's enough for today."

Will got out of the driver's seat and bounded across the front yard. "Did you see that, Mom?" he asked. "I did it! I drove the car!"

August 13, 1960

William Gilligan sat up straight and rubbed his eyes. He could feel that the bus was rumbling to a stop. He had been on the road for close to 15 hours now, and was anxious to get up and stretch. He stood up and looked around the bus. There were fourteen other young men in various positions, most of them sleeping. Just one other guy was awake. He looked over at Will and gave him a nod.

Will turned and looked out the window. They were parked in front of a huge brick building and four men in uniforms were coming down the steps. In a panic, Will looked around. "Hey guys, guys, wake up. They're coming."

The other fourteen jumped up and rubbed their eyes, stretched their backs and watched the uniformed men approaching the bus.

They entered the bus doors and greeted the small group of men. The first man spoke. "Good morning, Seamen Recruits. Welcome to the United States Navy. I am Chief Petty Officer Jeffries, and these are your guides for today." Holding up a clipboard, he called out, "Anderson, Ben; Dobbs, MacKinley; Farwell, Collin; Gilligan, William; and Iker, Jason. This is Petty Officer Walker. You are to go with him."

Will stepped out of his row with the other men called, and followed Petty Officer Walker off the bus. He led them down the sidewalk away from the bus then turned and addressed them. "Gentlemen, it is now O-Five-Hundred. We have a lot to do this morning, so you're going to need to hustle."

As he started to walk up the main steps and lead them into the building, he continued talking. "First thing we are going to do is visit the barber shop. You're all going to get nice, pretty haircuts," he said with a grin. He led them down a hall.

Will's eyes were wide as he tried to take everything in. He had to practically run to keep up with his group, but there was so much to see. Naval murals on the walls, flags hanging everywhere, a glass case with plaques and trophies . . . he couldn't take it all in. He followed them down another hall and into a room with three barber chairs.

"Anderson, Dobbs and Farwell, take a seat." Three of the guys sat down. Will looked at the other guy still standing. It was the one he remembered from the bus who nodded at him. Will tried to smile at him, but was fighting the most nervous stomach he had ever encountered.

Walker left the room for a few minutes, so the new recruits relaxed a little and were able to chat. Anderson looked over at Will and said, "Geez, guys, check out those ears. They're huge." The others laughed, and Will's face flushed. Anderson looked at his barber and said, "Try not to let those babies get in the way of that shaver."

Will had always been teased about his big ears, so there wasn't much that he hadn't heard before. He decided there was nothing to do but laugh with them. As he sat in the chair for his turn, he looked at the other guys and casually commented, "Yeah, I do have big ears . . . and a big nose, too. In fact, all the stuff that sticks out of me tends to be real big." The other guys broke up laughing. "Really," he continued. "Look at my hands. They're huge compared to the rest of me."

Dobbs and Farwell were hanging onto each other, they were laughing so hard. Even the barbers were laughing. Jason Iker, now in the seat next to Will had tears in his eyes.

Anderson finally caught his breath and gasped out, "We're just going to have to call you Big G. You're the first one with a nickname, Big G. Congratulations."

Will shrugged. He looked up at his barber, who was having a hard time shaving straight. "Haven't any of you seen ears this big before? It's not that funny."

By the time they were all done getting their hair cut, Walker had come back. "All right, Gentlemen. We are moving on to the Ditty Bag Issue. In here, you will receive your uniforms and everything else that you will need during your stay here. You will move through this line, taking these items. You will put on your new clothes and then take one of those boxes over there and pack up the belongings that you have with you. Those will be mailed home to your families. Any questions? Let's go."

Will moved through the line with the others. He took soap, shampoo, all the personal items he would need and placed them in a bin. Moving on to the clothing, he worked with a young enlisted man who helped him get the right sizes - although, he did have a hard time with some of the pants. The smallest waist they had was still a couple of inches too big. He was grateful for a belt.

When he finally got dressed and had all of his items in his ditty bag, he took his old things and placed them in one of the boxes on the table. He felt a twinge in his stomach as he put his canvas sneakers into the bottom of the box. Folding his jeans in, he choked up. He made a strong resolve to not cry in front of these guys. He knew it would be several months before he would see his parents again, and be able to wear civilian clothes.

After he had his box all packed, and scratched out the address on the label, he took it over to the finished pile. Petty Officer Walker looked at him and asked in a soft voice, "Want to go call your family? I can give you three minutes."

Will nodded.

Walker took him across a hallway into a room with multiple phones set up. Will approached one of the phones and dialed home.

"Hello," his mother answered.

He couldn't help it. He teared up. Even though he had just seen her last night, and they had thrown a huge good-bye party for him, he felt like it had been weeks since he had left. It seemed like so long ago. He took a deep breath and said in his most cheerful voice, "Hey, Mom. It's me. I just wanted to tell you and Dad that I got here okay. I met some of the guys, and guess what? I'm the first one with a nickname. They call me "Big G". Even though I'm the smallest guy here . . . I think it's 'cause of my ears."

January 22, 1966

Gilligan was down by the beach collecting driftwood and blown branches and loading them into the bamboo wheelbarrow that was built for gathering. It had been a few days since he and MaryAnn had spent an entire night out in the jungle, and he had been struggling with the seriousness of their relationship.

His brain was racing with possibilities as he rolled the wheelbarrow along and picked up wood. He didn't even notice when he rolled right by Skipper, who was out scouting for new food sources.

"Gilligan. Hey, Gilligan!" he shouted.

"Huh?" he muttered, looking around. "Oh, hi Skipper. Whatcha doing?" he asked.

"Do you have your pocket knife?" Skipper asked. "I want to dig a little into this root and see if it's edible. What do you think?" he asked as he held a little piece of root out. "Doesn't this look similar to the taro root?"

"Yeah, I guess," Gilligan said, shrugging. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife. A small, whittled piece of wood fell out onto the ground. Gilligan bent down and picked it up quickly, putting it back in his pocket.

Skipper saw it happen, but didn't say anything as he dug a little piece of root out. He held it up and took a nibble. "I think we should test this out and see what MaryAnn can do with it," he said. He noticed the shift in Gilligan's eyes when he mentioned MaryAnn.

"Here," he said. "Let's put a few chunks in the wheelbarrow."

"Sure, Skipper," Gilligan answered, absentmindedly.

After they were done, Gilligan took the handles and was about to continue on his way back to the clearing.

"Little Buddy," Skipper called. "Hang on a second. Come sit down."

Gilligan stopped and looked back at him. Slowly, he set the wheelbarrow back down and sat down next to Skipper, leaning against a tree trunk. "What's up, Skipper?" he asked.

Skipper blustered a bit before he continued. "Look, a lot has happened with you over the past few weeks, and I just thought that maybe you needed to talk."

Gilligan almost grinned a little. He knew that since that morning when he and MaryAnn had come strolling into the clearing, claiming to have gotten up to watch the sunrise, Skipper had been dying to know details. He had spent a couple of days avoiding his big buddy, but he knew that sooner or later, they'd have to have a talk. It might as well be now.

"I guess I do need to talk," he said. "I'm just not sure where to start . . . or what I even would say." He reached up and scratched his head, shifting his hat.

"Well," Skipper said, trying not to look too eager. "You could start with what happened the other night. You two were out all night. The jungle is a dangerous place at night, you know."

"I know that, Skipper. We started out just going to watch the sunset on the western shore. We were talking . . . you know, about home and stuff. And then . . . well . . . ummm . . ." He grimaced. "Girls – they like to kiss, you know."

Skipper nodded and said, "Yes, I do know."

"You don't have to worry about MaryAnn getting hurt, you know. I know how to keep her safe in the jungle," he blurted out, trying to change the direction of the conversation.

Skipper could see that Gilligan was definitely keeping something serious from him. "Gilligan . . . Little Buddy," he said gently. "I know that you two are in love. That's as plain as the nose on your face."

Gilligan reached up to feel his nose.

"I understand what you're going through. Being so cut-off from civilization and our families, well, we've got to live our own lives . . . here and now . . ." He took off his hat and fiddled with it, looking at the insignia on the front. "You're a man, now. You're all grown up and . . . well . . ."

As he was stammering his way through this conversation, Gilligan slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a little folded piece of cloth. Setting it down between them, he slowly unfolded it. Skipper stopped stammering and looked down. Sitting on the cloth were the little whittled piece of wood and what looked like three reddish wooden rings in the process of being sanded down, along with a little piece of rough coral and some scraps of sandpaper.

Gilligan picked up one of the rings. "It's koa," he said. "I started whittling them down Thursday morning. I'm making the big one for me, and the other two are an engagement ring and a wedding ring." He turned the ring this way and that, looking at the grains and running his finger along them. "Do you think she'll like them?"

Skipper picked up one of the other rings, his jaw hanging down. "Little Buddy," he whispered. "These are going to be gorgeous." He looked at Gilligan and smiled. "As for whether or not she'll like them, I don't think you have anything to worry about." Picking up the little whittled piece of wood, he asked, "What's this for?"

Gilligan grinned. "That fits into the ring she wears now. It was tricky getting the size just right. I had to sneak her ring away Thursday morning. Remember when she was looking for it after she did the dishes? I wanted to make the rings the right size."

Skipper set the pieces back down and chuckled.

Gilligan smiled and picked up the two smaller ones. "See how they aren't straight lines? They curve a little. They fit into each other, almost like puzzle pieces. One for an engagement ring and one for a wedding ring." Then he got very serious.

"Skipper?" he asked nervously. "Right now, I'm all she's got. You're too old for her and Professor sort of likes Ginger. What happens . . ." he gulped. "What happens if we get rescued and go back home. Will she still want to be with me? Marry me?"

"Little Buddy," Skipper said, patting his friend on the shoulder. "Don't sell yourself short. You've got a heart of gold, and you work so hard to make everyone's day a little brighter. She knows that. That's why she loves you, not because you're the only guy here for her. Why – you're every bit as sweet as her."

"No," Gilligan said with a smile. "She's twice as sweet as me."