These two. My pride and joy. What amazing adults they have become, right before my eyes. In the midst of this pandemic with the whole world out of balance, they are both set to achieve big milestones in their lives without the fanfare they deserve. Connor, a high school graduate bound for the University of Colorado in the fall. Mallory, a UW college graduate in accounting, just the third member of my side of the family to graduate with a four-year college degree. What a grand party we would throw in normal times … my heart aches for this disappointment, but I know we will find other ways to celebrate their achievements. I am reminded of what John Wooden once said: “Things turn out the best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out.” I know this is true for these two. I am such a proud papa!
Our Nordhavn trawler can take us to incredibly remote parts of the world. But what if something breaks down so far away from everything? I’ve spent most my life believing that outsourcing tasks to experts is the best model for life. Shoot, I even lead the strategy function of a multi-billion dollar outsourcing firm. World traveling on an ocean-going trawler requires a resourceful crew with exceptional mechanical skills. This was my single biggest reservation in making the transition from sailboat to trawler. Could I keep up with the maintenance and repair needs of such a sophisticated vessel with systems and machinery that could rival a small municipality? It’s been almost two years now, so I thought I’d share how it’s gone. Here’s the link to the full blog post.
There is nothing so magical and comforting as the wheelhouse of a trawler at night. Words fail. Pictures can’t capture it. The gentle rocking, the warm light, the sense of adventure and impending expedition, the saltwater soaking into already salty veins. Some people spend their whole lives searching for their happy place in the world. This is surely mine.
With all our usual park trails now off limits, Franklin and I have taken to the backroads of Vashon for our daily constitutional. I am reminded that most of this island could be considered one giant park, andI feel especially thankful to call this our home in times like these. On today’s five mile loop past the lighthouse and wonderful Luana Beach road, we found the road mostly deserted. One deer, one rider on horseback, a few fellow walkers. Lots of people out in their gardens or simply basking in the sunshine in their yards. Counting small blessings today.
This for me is what’s great about boating. Anchored in a small bay surrounded by wilderness, birdsong, cackling geese, a faint cooling breeze. Far, far away from bustle and strife. Fellow boaters passing by in dinghies with smiles and waves. A sense of shared fraternity that we all found this magic place.
Luana Beach Road. Or maybe the Shire.
Not many sailing nights like this left this year. Beautiful moon. Feeling blessed.
I’ve been playing baseball with Connor since he was five years old. First tossing baseballs underhanded into a tiny red mitt, later playing catch out in the yard, most every night in the summer. A couple years ago we started a Sunday routine of taking a bucket of baseballs up to the high school for batting practice. I would pitch from the mound, ball after ball, while Connor swung for the fences.
Two years ago, he started complaining that I wasn’t throwing as hard as pitchers he was facing in games. Last year he connected with his first home run, the ball sailing out into the woods over the left field fence, Connor whooping and hollering. Both father and son did a victory run around the bases that day.
