I was the daughter of a sailor on the Cheasapeake Bay. I spent the first eighteen years of my life on a boat. We had two 38-40 ft sloops and one enormous 48 foot ketch. When I was a little girl, there was pure magic sitting on the bow sprit and daggling my feet into the water with the wind ripping through my hair. I did most of my great dreaming there.
I would lay on my belly with a crab net and pick up one after the other and thrown them in a big pot to steam later for dinner. Sometimes we would pull up to yacht clubs and tie the boat up to the dock and eat crabs (all you could eat for $7 and they would pile (I mean pile) them up on newspaper. It was the best mess I have ever loved. I can open up a hot, steamed crab in one minute. It is one great talent of mine.
I learned to play the guitar on the boat and my brother and I sang all the folk songs from the 60’s. If I Had a Hammer, Blowing in the Wind… funny. it seems like it never all happened - it was so many years ago. We would sail into these little inlets and anchor the boat. My brother and I sailed the dinghy onto the shore and would lose ourselves for hours playing in the woods in the middle of nowhere. It was magical. I now spend my days in a Midwest suburb and haven’t been on the water in 30 years. Landlocked.
My daddy was a wonderful, loving, dedicated sailor who was the last man who ever really loved me. He died when I was 23, and I needed to thank him for giving me those special memories on the water.
Thanks, Daddy.
Well, Bessy, the fact that you are in the Midwest and in the 'burbs is too painful even for me to discuss. But nothing prevents you from singing Puff, the Magic Dragon to your heart’s content. Just don’t let the kids catch you. It is considered a sign of senility.
When I was an elementary school music teacher, I usually eschewed the PC newer songs for the folk songs - ours and those from other countries (of course, ours are, to one degree or another, from other countries). It’s great music.
I don’t know what kind of venues you are playing, but you might be surprised at how well a carefully-chosen folk tune will go over in a club. Or, you might not. They can be evocative of many emotions and memories, to many people. Maybe you can find a way to rework one, and dedicate it to your Dad, each time you play it. Sounds corny, but it might work - for everyone. Well, it is corny.
I remember once I sang Amazing Grace at a karaoke night. It started as a joke, but there is something about that song - I bought into it within a couple of bars, and so did everyone else. Not really a folk tune, but not really not one, either. It was the most extreme example I could find - the song I thought would go over the least well. But I fooled myself.
I sing those songs to my new granddaughter whose mother thinks I am part lunatic and part gypsy. I am sure she assumes that I do Tarot readings and own a crystal ball. She is a sorority girl whose mother is queen of the suburbs. I am the black sheep granny/musician who doesn’t fit into their perfect world. (THANK GOD). Yes, I am actually on the internet to avoid dealing with the suburbs. One day, I may just walk away with nothing but a keyboard and a smile…
I have sailed but I can’t say that I really enjoyed it.
I loved your post, but I was saddened by your comment: “My daddy was a wonderful, loving, dedicated sailor who was the last man who ever really loved me.â€
Do you think that this is really fair, or could it just be a fleeting impression left from your current reminiscences?
Nice post Bessy. We sail - family tradition. Dad was born on a boat, then Navy for 25 years. Nowadays I sail racing boats with no stern, but we still enjoy the odd potter on a cornish crabber. There is a resevoir near my house so we can keep it going, but nothing beats an ocean.
Been on plenty of boats. My husband and I had a nice one once upon a time. Every spare weekend we would be on it even in the winter. It was great our son got his sealegs and landlegs at the same time.
First time I remember being on a boat was on Rose canyon Lake. My Dad whittled a stick fishing pole for me so that I could go fishing with he and my brothers. I dropped it overboard as we were moving into the lake. My hero turned the boat around and rescued it for me. With a kiss and an admonishment to hang on to it tighter we turned back around and went back to fishing, with him baiting my little hook and exclaiming that the bluegills I caught were the biggest and the best. My Dad, my hero, still protecting us kids as he can.
The current racing sail boats, depending on class, are indeed sternless in an effort to reduce both weight and drag. The assumption being that the boat will always move fast enough to pull any water out of the rear hull area (by design).
It sort of ignores the possibility of going becalmed and having one of those big sneakers hit you in the …aft.
Three things make this design popular: It works well most of the time. It is sexy beyond belief. Racers are an optomistic bunch.
No. You haven’t known me for very long but some people here know that nothing is too personal for me. To be honest, I have been loved by several men but I can say that I have never been adored quite that way. Maybe it is just a little girl thing that I yearn for since his untimely and sudden death. I will be 56 and it is how old he was when he died.
You are right Bessy, Jeez here you and I go again, My dad’s love for me is security, warmth, joy and safety in a way that is unmatched. My step mom says she always knows when he is talking to me on the phone if she walks in to the room. I am the only person in the world that is Sweetie and the only one that makes him laugh like he does when he talks to me. Perhaps our Dads’ love is special to us for a reason, such as our mothers negativities. Or perhaps it is because we were true princesses loved by a true and kind heroic king. Or perhaps their one of a kind heroic love was just that a one of a kind heroic love.
My Dad is my hero he always will be. It may sound wierd but I love the smell of jet fuel and airplane Grease. it brings warm fuzzy memories of Dad coming home from work and lifting me in the air culminating in a great big hug and kiss. when I hear my Dad’s voice an instant warm goodness fills me especially if I am scared. just hearing his voice helps.
My condolences Bessy. I can’t yet know your loss fully yet but, I can guess pretty well how you must feel. Our Dad’s are special men and always will be.
Thank you, thank you Kris. I am the only woman I know who absolutely adores cigar smoke for that very same reason. The woody smell of a pipe can honestly bring me to tears. That dad of mine smoked anything as hard as he could. I buried his cigarettes in the garden one time when I was twelve and I thought his head was going to blow off.
I have said a hundred times that he died on purpose to get away from my mother. I wasn’t going to mention my mother, but since you have… I have to tell you that her cruel behavior to me makes my dad being gone even harder. Why do wonderful men marry such mean women?
Do any of you dads out there realize just how important you are to your little girls? If someone could tell me that my dad could come back and rub my feet just one more time, I would give them my house and everything I’ve ever owned.
If you asked your Dad why he married your mother, he might smile and say something like; Its because she gave me you. Or maybe they saw something and loved that something in these women inspite of the horribleness of her, Perhaps they balanced each other in ways we could never see nor understand. For whatever reason they married our misbegotten mothers.
Pehaps the powers above made them love and marry them so that we could learn, good and bad and become better humans. I don’t know why.
I know my Dad loved my mother until she left him. He still has a respect and fondness for her, but, my Dad got lucky his second wife is the most wonderful woman in the world. Now I pity my stepDad.
LOL maybe there is one thing we can be grateful to our mothers for. They got us great Fathers.I am a better human for having both parents. I am a better parent for having learned from both. So are you. Some lessons suck but, we still must learn them.
Maybe your Dad is smiling and is proud that his daughter turned out so well inspite of such difficulties or because she actually holds love close rather then embracing the anger and pain. Think about it; it is easier to hate then to love. You learned the lesson well, I am willing to bet on that.
I have a theory. My father had never had known a woman before he had met her. She was very beautiful, very provocative and was open in her discussion of sex…okok, Bessy got a few things from her. LOLLMFAOTIP (Laugh out loud - Laugh My fucking ass off till I pee.)
But, you are right. We have no idea why people fall in love. When they closed their door, there could have been things that connected them that I will never understand. Such is life.
More about sailing tomorrow, but my family is calling me.
We get some things from mom and some things from dad, and for the rest of our lives we get to try and balance. Dear Lady, she made you she couldn’t be all bad. guess what! we are our mother’s daughters but we are our Father’s daughters too. Bad things that we get from our folks does not mean it must remain a negative. We can make it a positive. We honor the good by being and learning good. We got lucky, our Dads are heros. Enjoy that family you made with your husband. That is the best honor you could give your Dad.
Right-o. My mother was a real nut, but I am about as eccentric as they come and I pride myself in being the last of the red hot beatniks. I was put to bed at night by her writing words from her cigarettes in the air in the dark. We had a black man live in our basement for six years who was hooked on sterno, but he needed a place to stay and he worked around the house. I ate dinner with him and he told me stories about the “coloreds” in his slum neighborhood in South Philly. He showed me how to blow smoke rings when I was thirteen I am the best! I could win smoke ring awards. My mother taught me to paint and play the piano, and let me drink, smoke and drive a mean stick shift when I was twelve. I was allowed to leave on Friday - return on Sunday — she had no clue where I was or who I was with. I was unsupervised most of my childhood and got sent home from school twice because of dirty fingernails. Ready for this? She was a member of the DAR - yea, I have a huge silver spoon and a few sterling forks in my mouth… she even had a coming out party.
LMFAO.
Yea, she was a absolute riot. She just forgot to love me, that’s all.
The best way to learn to sail is not on a big boat, but on a little one. Even a Catamaran is too big… Sailfish variety. Rent one and go out where there aren’t any sharks, wear a bathing suit and heel the thing over until you dunk yourself a few times to pick it up. There is nothing like it.
My dad used to rig a bosun’s chair on the boom and would let me ride over the water dangling my legs over into the bay. Talk about dangerous. That was until I had my first experience with sea nettles (jellyfish) when I fell into about 50 of them. I was blinded for at least 24 hours. No, I never was taken to see a doctor. Surprised? Didn’t think so.
My parents also let us ride from the back of the boat with thick lines tied to the stern. God, talk about dangerous. My kids accuse me of being overly protective because my biggest fear was fucking them up cause I had no role model. LOL I did ok with them, but was probably the only mother who willingly picked them up at the bars when they were too plowed to drive. Ho hum… and never even reprimanded them. True story. What a mom!!
I’m rambling, but it is my thread now, isn’t it? Bandwidth? Is that an issue here?
Why is it that you know so many little factoids, JT? You either have a memory like a steel trap, or are the best Bullshit Googler on the internet. I say this with deep regard due to our lengthy, ongoing and unique friendship. Cabal bullshitters are very hard to come by these days, dear.
There is a resevoir near my house so we can keep it going, but nothing beats an ocean.
I am the best! I could win smoke ring awards. My mother taught me to paint and play the piano, and let me drink, smoke and drive a mean stick shift when I was twelve. I was allowed to leave on Friday - return on Sunday — she had no clue where I was or who I was with. I was unsupervised most of my childhood and got sent home from school twice because of dirty fingernails. Ready for this? She was a member of the DAR - yea, I have a huge silver spoon and a few sterling forks in my mouth… she even had a coming out party.