We are the yarns we spin
Issue 84 : May/Jun 2012
My husband is a masterful storyteller. One of his best collections of tales records years of racing Flying Scots in a fleet in which the 19-foot Scots were the wee little boats outweighed massively by the MORC and PHRF fleets that included such hulking brutes as Ranger 26s and Etchells 30s. Another grand collection of tales recounts his years in the U.S. Navy, primarily on the USS Newport News, a heavy cruiser, during the Vietnam era.
Another collection recalls the adventures of Kiki, the most wonderful dog in the world. Ever. And another tells of raising daughters. Many of his tales now include stories of our travels together by land and sea. In addition, there are the college-era tales and a few good stories from his career as an engineer.
In 20 years of marriage, I have heard all these tales more than once. I’ve become his best stooge in social situations by encouraging him: “That reminds me of a story. Jerry, please tell them about the time . . .” And off he goes with another wonderful well-remembered and well-told tale. I envy that talent: the ability to remember names and details from events 40 and 50 years ago and the ability to recount them well.
I was reminded of the power of stories recently by one of our subscribers. This concept probably isn’t original with Steve Quint, but I heard it first from him. He proclaimed that it isn’t who dies with the most toys that matters. What’s important, he noted, is who dies with the best sea stories. That struck me like a thunderbolt. After all, that’s what’s truly important in life: collecting experiences, enjoying each moment, and sharing the tales.
Whether you race or cruise, sailing is a terrific way to collect wonderful experiences — whether humorous, calamitous, or stunning in their beauty. There may come a time when we no longer sail, but we will always have our memories of the times we spent on the water.
This spring, as you prepare your boat for another season, the excitement you feel may very well be based in part on the potential: the unknowns that lie ahead and the opportunity to add to your portfolio of great sea stories. Have a wonderful season.
Seasons of choice
The surface of the sea where our boats float is a mysterious interface between air and water. The time zone populated by magazine professionals occupies a similar bizarre perimeter between today and sometime well into the future. We operate on “magazine time,” while many of the sailors for whom we produce this magazine operate on something more like “island time.”
As I write this in late January, I’m focused not on the March issue, as you might think. No, we’re just dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s on that one. It will be at the printer yet this month. As I am the one who must start this process for each issue, my brain has moved on to the May issue. May! For some of us at Good Old Boat, it’s not really January (with sub-freezing temperatures outside today). It can’t be, not if we can see May from here. Functioning on magazine time is one very good way to escape winter.
Magazine time is not quite as high-tech as time travel, I realize, but for those of us who face a continuous string of deadlines, it’s a comfort knowing where we’re headed and that we’re likely to get there on time.
But here’s the magic trick: our delusional logic about the seasons does not apply in reverse. When we’re working on the January issue sometime in September, January is most definitely not in our mental picture. At that point, we’re in denial about the end of the sailing season and we’re able to focus on the here and now while producing a magazine meant for some unidentified and indeterminate future month.
I like having it both ways. Some live in the moment. Magazine editors live in a future of their own choosing and only when it’s beneficial to delude ourselves.
Thank you to Sailrite Enterprises, Inc., for providing free access to back issues of Good Old Boat through intellectual property rights. Sailrite.com
