Solly
Twenty fricken days! I'm dreadful! I'd say I'm in a funk, but any time I do, I remember a college friend who would inquire, to that statement, why so and so was in a funk, not an MG.
I suppose I've been in the one and not the other. Which is too bad, because there have endless opportunities for literary levity in the world at large.
There has been this other thing, peculiar to my little town, the yachting capital of the world/the nation/New England/Essex County. Our universe has been shrinking, but there are still enough fools who believe it to make a Marblehead harbour mooring rather more valuable than our real estate.
I have such a mooring. The odd thing is that the holder of such a mooring no longer actually owns anything. He/she simply has rights to use a buoy, rights to pay a permit fee, and the privilege of paying a licenced maintenance firm a hefty amount of money a year. (Once upon a time if you had a permit, you actually owned the buoy, the chain and anchor, but no more.)
A few years back, we sold our boat but, in the usual local fashion, kept our rights in the mooring. We did this basically to give a lift to our small fleet of small sailboats. While in theory we also got the right to use the boat, our interests were moving away from sailing. We used it very little. In addition, our co-owner was a thorough mariner, both born and bred. He did much better than we ever did.
Suddenly, this spring, he got a new job in the Midwest and sold out the boat. If you ever feel friendless and unwanted, for an antidote try having one of these 5x8 bits of paper with no boat on the mooring. You will have many, many friends in a very short time. If you give up the mooring, you will make one anonymous person very happy, and earn yourself many unfriends. If you keep the mooring, only one of your friends will be truly happy.
If this isn't complicated enough, add a Left Coast child who has suddenly rediscovered her interest in sailing. This would be innocent enough if she were to remain living in the desert. However, there's a high likelihood that her next career move is to the Bay area, thence back to this coast. So, as all this unfolds, daughter says "Don't give up the mooring."
No pressure.
We caved.
Our new arrangement is with the person we thought needed a chance at a mooring most. Just to show how diverse we are, he's a Republican. Nowadays, doing this sort of thing is far from simple. Papers: many many papers. Hoops: many many hoops. It is unclear as yet whether we've acquired unfriends from all this, because they haven't called. At any rate, the deal is done. At last.
My brother-in-law, hearing all this, suggested that getting moorings in Marblehead is like getting season's tickets to the New York Giants. I think the Giants tickets would be easier.
I suppose I've been in the one and not the other. Which is too bad, because there have endless opportunities for literary levity in the world at large.
There has been this other thing, peculiar to my little town, the yachting capital of the world/the nation/New England/Essex County. Our universe has been shrinking, but there are still enough fools who believe it to make a Marblehead harbour mooring rather more valuable than our real estate.
I have such a mooring. The odd thing is that the holder of such a mooring no longer actually owns anything. He/she simply has rights to use a buoy, rights to pay a permit fee, and the privilege of paying a licenced maintenance firm a hefty amount of money a year. (Once upon a time if you had a permit, you actually owned the buoy, the chain and anchor, but no more.)
A few years back, we sold our boat but, in the usual local fashion, kept our rights in the mooring. We did this basically to give a lift to our small fleet of small sailboats. While in theory we also got the right to use the boat, our interests were moving away from sailing. We used it very little. In addition, our co-owner was a thorough mariner, both born and bred. He did much better than we ever did.
Suddenly, this spring, he got a new job in the Midwest and sold out the boat. If you ever feel friendless and unwanted, for an antidote try having one of these 5x8 bits of paper with no boat on the mooring. You will have many, many friends in a very short time. If you give up the mooring, you will make one anonymous person very happy, and earn yourself many unfriends. If you keep the mooring, only one of your friends will be truly happy.
If this isn't complicated enough, add a Left Coast child who has suddenly rediscovered her interest in sailing. This would be innocent enough if she were to remain living in the desert. However, there's a high likelihood that her next career move is to the Bay area, thence back to this coast. So, as all this unfolds, daughter says "Don't give up the mooring."
No pressure.
We caved.
Our new arrangement is with the person we thought needed a chance at a mooring most. Just to show how diverse we are, he's a Republican. Nowadays, doing this sort of thing is far from simple. Papers: many many papers. Hoops: many many hoops. It is unclear as yet whether we've acquired unfriends from all this, because they haven't called. At any rate, the deal is done. At last.
My brother-in-law, hearing all this, suggested that getting moorings in Marblehead is like getting season's tickets to the New York Giants. I think the Giants tickets would be easier.
Labels: Marblehead, sailing
posted by Uncle | 22:13
3 Comments:
I'm glad you're alive! I was getting worried.
Ah, this drives me back to Billy's play for a wordplay from Iago:
The Moor is of a free and open nature,
That thinks men honest that but seem to be so,
And will as tenderly be led by the nose
As asses are.
While I can't head off to Dominica or the Azores on my bicycle, I find a U-lock much more portable, if less marketable.
If you were to take a Town class off to Dominica or the Azores, you would either be feted or certified. One person is known to have sailed his as far as Cape Porpoise, ME and P-town. The jury is out which recognition he earned.
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