The Old Man and the Sea
28 01 2008
For almost as long as I can remember, my summer weekends were spent in Warwick, RI on one of my family's two boats we've had. I used to be embarrassed to tell people we had a boat. People would automatically presume my family was pretty well off, which was not the case for most of the time we had one. There was a period during the 80's that my parents were living somewhat comfortably and somehow concluded that a nice outlet for the additional cash would be a boat. An old, wooden powerboat. The Avalon. Thirty-three feet long and quite leaky. My dad had all of us complete a US Coast Guard boating operations and safety class. I was only maybe 6 or 7 at the time but I still remember the classes in Holden and taking the exam. I passed with something like a 95. With a little help from pops, of course.
Thus began the many, many adventures in Greenwich Bay, Narragansett Bay, and the general vicinity of Block Island sound. We'd spend every weekend of every late spring to early autumn (sometimes late Autumn...I trick or treated at the marina once) since then until I was about 18 or so. The Avalon had a short, turbulent (almost sank a couple time times) life that I won't get into in detail here. We replaced her in the late 80's with a 32' Carver aft-cabin cruiser that my dad renamed "Belinda Lee" after my mom. A lot of times I thought I hated being there. I was a young kid, and there weren't too many other young kids around the marina. Besides, I already had friends at home, and I was missing out on playing with them. I could maybe get two channels to come in on the 13' TV with rabbit ears I had in my cabin. That meant no Saturday morning cartoons. That was a problem. Most weekends we'd just stay at the marina. It was too expensive to take the boat somewhere every time we went there. At the time I thought it was boring but looking back, I miss a lot of it. Catching jellyfish and smashing them, dicking around with people on the radio, taking the raft out and wake jumping with it, plotting courses with my dad, driving the boat, attempting (poorly) to dock. When we did actually take the boat out, it was even better. Most vacations were spent on Block Island, a place I still love. We've been to Martha's Vineyard, Montauk Point and so many places between. All my memories are good ones. Even the bad ones are good.
A few years ago, we moved the boat to Mystic, CT. The boat hadn't been used as much by then and financial forces prompted the move. My dad really wanted a new GPS chartplotter for the trip. I remember him in the office at my parents' old day care center trying so hard to use the internet to find one. It was almost comical how bad he was with a computer. Looking down his nose through my mom's reading glasses, fumbling through, swearing a lot, and cursing the manufacturer of the computer, as I recall. I helped him along and eventually we found the one he wanted and I fronted the money for it since they couldn't afford it at the time. He asked me to go with him for the trip. It had been a while since I had gone and I told him honestly that I'd love to.We plotted the trip together with the new GPS and set off on a very nice day from Warwick to Mystic. Of course, I could not have known that would be our last voyage together. The ride was a beautiful one. Blue water meeting bright blue sky in every direction. The wind in our faces and very calm seas. It was a weekday, and I recall thinking how much nicer it was to be out on the water with my dad than to be at work. It was a perfect day.
On Saturday, Jill and I went to Mohegan Sun to see Lori McKenna. I'm not really a fan, but it's a small sacrifice to make for the person who has somehow brought me through tough times to come out even stronger than when I faced them. We stayed the night in a nearby hotel. We got up Sunday morning and decided to do some tourist stuff. Mystic Village was only 25 minutes away. So, away we went. We missed a turn and stumbled upon the road leading to the marina in Mystic. I decided that instant to head down it and see the Belinda Lee for the first time in maybe two years. It was difficult at first. The entire lot was full of boats being stored on stilts for the winter. We circled the main building, searching. Once around back I saw it out of the corner of my eye. The Belinda Lee. I stopped the car and got out.
I believe this was the first moment in my life where I experienced intense, overwhelming, and very unexpected emotion. I was just walking towards it, snow hitting my face, and scanning her outline. I could suddenly picture my dad everywhere on it. He was on the bridge, he was standing on the bow hosing the windshield off, he was sitting on the deck, admiring the cove and working on his sunburn. I saw him in so many memories all at once. This was his boat, he was her Captain. I walked around the boat and just studied it. Jill came over and could tell I was kind of in shock, I guess. Maybe I looked like I had seen a ghost, because I certainly just had. I looked at her with tears in my eyes. She hugged me, now starting to cry ever so slightly herself. We admired her for just a bit longer. I took one last look over my shoulder before I got back into the car, and headed for Mystic Seaport.
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Thus began the many, many adventures in Greenwich Bay, Narragansett Bay, and the general vicinity of Block Island sound. We'd spend every weekend of every late spring to early autumn (sometimes late Autumn...I trick or treated at the marina once) since then until I was about 18 or so. The Avalon had a short, turbulent (almost sank a couple time times) life that I won't get into in detail here. We replaced her in the late 80's with a 32' Carver aft-cabin cruiser that my dad renamed "Belinda Lee" after my mom. A lot of times I thought I hated being there. I was a young kid, and there weren't too many other young kids around the marina. Besides, I already had friends at home, and I was missing out on playing with them. I could maybe get two channels to come in on the 13' TV with rabbit ears I had in my cabin. That meant no Saturday morning cartoons. That was a problem. Most weekends we'd just stay at the marina. It was too expensive to take the boat somewhere every time we went there. At the time I thought it was boring but looking back, I miss a lot of it. Catching jellyfish and smashing them, dicking around with people on the radio, taking the raft out and wake jumping with it, plotting courses with my dad, driving the boat, attempting (poorly) to dock. When we did actually take the boat out, it was even better. Most vacations were spent on Block Island, a place I still love. We've been to Martha's Vineyard, Montauk Point and so many places between. All my memories are good ones. Even the bad ones are good.
A few years ago, we moved the boat to Mystic, CT. The boat hadn't been used as much by then and financial forces prompted the move. My dad really wanted a new GPS chartplotter for the trip. I remember him in the office at my parents' old day care center trying so hard to use the internet to find one. It was almost comical how bad he was with a computer. Looking down his nose through my mom's reading glasses, fumbling through, swearing a lot, and cursing the manufacturer of the computer, as I recall. I helped him along and eventually we found the one he wanted and I fronted the money for it since they couldn't afford it at the time. He asked me to go with him for the trip. It had been a while since I had gone and I told him honestly that I'd love to.We plotted the trip together with the new GPS and set off on a very nice day from Warwick to Mystic. Of course, I could not have known that would be our last voyage together. The ride was a beautiful one. Blue water meeting bright blue sky in every direction. The wind in our faces and very calm seas. It was a weekday, and I recall thinking how much nicer it was to be out on the water with my dad than to be at work. It was a perfect day.
On Saturday, Jill and I went to Mohegan Sun to see Lori McKenna. I'm not really a fan, but it's a small sacrifice to make for the person who has somehow brought me through tough times to come out even stronger than when I faced them. We stayed the night in a nearby hotel. We got up Sunday morning and decided to do some tourist stuff. Mystic Village was only 25 minutes away. So, away we went. We missed a turn and stumbled upon the road leading to the marina in Mystic. I decided that instant to head down it and see the Belinda Lee for the first time in maybe two years. It was difficult at first. The entire lot was full of boats being stored on stilts for the winter. We circled the main building, searching. Once around back I saw it out of the corner of my eye. The Belinda Lee. I stopped the car and got out.
I believe this was the first moment in my life where I experienced intense, overwhelming, and very unexpected emotion. I was just walking towards it, snow hitting my face, and scanning her outline. I could suddenly picture my dad everywhere on it. He was on the bridge, he was standing on the bow hosing the windshield off, he was sitting on the deck, admiring the cove and working on his sunburn. I saw him in so many memories all at once. This was his boat, he was her Captain. I walked around the boat and just studied it. Jill came over and could tell I was kind of in shock, I guess. Maybe I looked like I had seen a ghost, because I certainly just had. I looked at her with tears in my eyes. She hugged me, now starting to cry ever so slightly herself. We admired her for just a bit longer. I took one last look over my shoulder before I got back into the car, and headed for Mystic Seaport.
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