I got the chance to take the helm of a 30 foot keelboat last weekend. It had soft cushions, a head, a bimini, and a nice big electronic chart above the wheel. Music drifted out of two speakers strategically placed in the back of the cockpit. When we got tired of fighting the current, we cranked on the diesel engine and motored back to the dock. There was good company on the boat, but I didn’t enjoy the sailing as much as I do on RowBird. To be fair to the keelboat, it could have been a Herreshoff, but because I’m in love with RowBird, it wouldn’t have mattered.
“I want to go whaling for my half-birthday,” I told my wife.
She glanced up from her new book, but she didn’t need to speak. The doubt in her eyes said it all. Continue reading “Who Wants to Go Whaling?”
Walking into a fabric store is walking into a woman’s world, often a middle-age women’s world; and I like it. I like the variety of colors and textures, I like the array of notions (zippers, buttons, threads, etc.), and I like the possibility; the idea that with all these raw materials I can make anything I can imagine. Continue reading “Women’s World”
“She’s Swiss, and she’s older than me. He is besotted with her. Because she’s new and exciting, I guess, even if she was born in 1963. In bed last night, I couldn’t get through a paragraph in my book without him talking about her technique.”
That’s what my wife posted on the online message board where she hangs out. Continue reading “My New Girlfriend”
I’ve been contemplating destroying my surf gear again. Surfing has made me waste countless hours splashing about in the frigid ocean. It has lured me to approach waves as big as a two story house and as long as a city block while paddling on my stomach. It has caused me to neglect vital aspects of land-based life. Continue reading “Surf Disease”
At 16, my son is beginning to think that boating is actually ok. Sure, a motor boat or jet ski would be more exciting, but our fleet includes no gas-powered craft – nor is it likely to – so lately, sailing is an acceptable, even desirable, way for him to spend an afternoon… if there’s wind. (Rowing is still drudgery, to be undertaken only in order to maneuver from the dock to open water.) Continue reading “Letting Him Go”