Which makes me think, not that I do that alot but….. I received a phone call from a local teacher yesterday afternoon asking if I might be willing to talk to her alternative high school class about what I do for a living. Just talk about how you got in to the business and how you learned about boats and sailing, she says. Well I grew up around boats as a wee little urchin. I spent the first years of my life in Marblehead, MA. My Dad always had boats. We had the forced family sailing vacations to Cape Cod and the islands. I used to take a small daysailer out solo at the age of 10 or 12. Perhaps as formative as any part of my experience growing up was my first lobster skiff. I set 10 traps out in the bay and hauled them religously pulling up with them not only crazy stuff from the bottom of the ocean but a host of experiences in all kinds of weather. As I ate my catch the sea was working its way into my bones. And it is not to say I can‚Äôt be comfortable in the woods I love to work in when I get a chance. I get that my grandfather who was a farmer and woodsman and who I had the pleasure of working alongside. But I have a theory that the place you grow up in becomes a part of your soul. I would feel as out of place on a midwestern farm or in downtown Manhattan as the proverbial fish out of water.
So I was looking at the accompanying picture of Sawyer in a pea pod. Last summer he pushed the pea pod off the beach and off he went rowing fisherman style, facing forwards. I had rowed with him 2 or 3 times, hands together on the oars, but what he did last summer was a quantum leap from anything I had ever done with him. I guess he picked it up through osmosis or something. I was a proud Papa, of course, but I was also in awe of this little man who had that spirit of adventure in his blood and a feel for what made sense in a boat.
I hope your day is filled with whatever it is that is ‚Äúin your blood‚Äù. Have a great day. Be well. Do good.