Issue 5 : Mar/Apr 1999
I cannot pinpoint the exact moment Ken and I first conceived of The Dream as a real option for us. I believe it evolved as we shifted our focus in life from the myriad activities with our children and careers to the evolution of an “empty nest” life. It is only now, since The Dream has a clear shape and has intensified to an actual plan, that I am able to look back at the many obstacles, both real and imagined, which needed to be overcome before The Dream could even be seriously entertained . . . issues which are likely of concern to most parents and perhaps to women in particular. One might think financial issues would be a major concern, and so they are. Yet, I have come to see that financial concerns are actually less worrisome than deeper matters of the heart.
I spent most of my adult life raising three children and for many years defined myself in terms of their happiness and success. I gladly postponed a career in order to be home with my daughter and two sons, and I have never regretted that decision. But life moved forward: Divorce. Remarriage. Blended families. Teenagers. Career. A whirlwind of activity, problems to solve, and emotions. In the midst of these competing priorities, I discovered the peace of sailing with my husband. Sailing restores balance to my life and re-focuses my vision on what is truly important and enduring.
Sailing has always been our special time as a couple. Though the children came with us when they were younger, their weekends with their father and later, the pull of teenage peers and activities left us alone more often than not on sailing days. Sailing gave us time to devote to our relationship, time which was in short supply with the concerns of five children between us. (Ken has two boys, now grown.) It was a time to heal from the separation pains when my children went to their father’s on weekends. Time to be like newlyweds, which we had never gotten to do with the immediate demands of a blended family. Time to develop The Dream.
When we bought a larger boat, we began to spend a good deal more time on the water. Slowly we evolved dual lives. There was the traditional one at home with families, friends, and work. And there was our sailing life together: a time to sail, read, play, work on the boat, and visit with a different group of friends: our marina friends.
In order to embrace The Dream, I have had to face the separation from my children in a more profound way than if I simply sat at home while they went off to develop their own lives. As other parents have done, I find I must let go of the past and move on in spite of the deep ache in my heart from missing my children. Yet I am also delighted with the freedom Ken and I have to define a new life for the two of us. To simply be friends and lovers without the constant demands children inevitably bring. But now I have come to realize I prefer our sailing life to our traditional life without children . . . a shift in perspective I hadn’t anticipated. It just happened.
Could we ever choose to make our sailing life more permanent? Could we honestly contemplate selling our home, as some have done, to live on a boat? We began to think seriously about it. Little by little, the financial picture was worked out. We realized that if we live conservatively, Ken’s retirement and our savings should provide for us. But the real obstacles run deeper. Could I handle being so far removed from my children and family and friends? Would I be ready to end my career? If I don’t define my success by my efforts at parenting or by my career as a school psychologist, how will I define it? Will we feel friendless and adrift? Will we lose that sense of community one has living in a neighborhood on land? How will I be able to make a contribution to society? Won’t I feel guilty going away and not being readily available to my family?
I approached my children about The Dream a few years ago. To my surprise, they were delighted and impressed. They love the idea of visiting us in a warm, sunny vacation area. What’s more, it seems our dream has freed them to pursue their own dreams and to explore the country in order to discover where they’d most like to settle without feeling obligated to stay nearby. Their reaction made me realize that whether or not I choose to live aboard a sailboat, I must face letting go of the children as they develop independent lives. However, choosing to become liveaboards would mean I have actively chosen to be less available to them, a choice contrary to my years of experience as a parent.
How much easier to sit at home and wait for the children to visit! I could reassure myself that I was still a good parent because I was always standing ready to assist them. Yet, is that what children really want or need? And if they truly needed me, wouldn’t I be available to them anyway? Whose needs was I really concerned with? I began to see that I need to let go of my role as parent. I need to trust the young adults I have raised and give them the opportunity and the permission to exercise their independence. Not only give permission, but show them by example that one should not be afraid to embrace new challenges in life, no matter one’s age.
Of course, I want my bonds to my children and friends to remain strong. To maintain our close connection, we have incorporated a computer, email, cellular phone, and video camera into The Dream. I have come to be quite confident we will remain close, no matter the miles between us, thanks to the wonderful technologies available. And that’s the real issue, isn’t it? One doesn’t want to lose loved ones to go live aboard a boat. Once I got that issue worked out in my heart and mind, it was full steam ahead with liveaboard plans.
What about my career? I am willing to leave my career, but not to sit idly, sipping mint juleps in the sun. I have given much thought to my interests and the talents I would like to develop, but have lacked the time to pursue. Writing a book, studying, learning Spanish, improving my musical and artistic skills, not to mention improving my sailing skills. The liveaboard life holds much promise for self-development, rather than the continuing improvement of our material possessions. To travel and explore some of our planet, to experience other cultures and learn about ourselves through that process seem worthy goals. My success will be defined by the sailing skills I master to achieve this dream.
I am ready to trade my traditional life for time with my husband, traveling, learning, and exploring together. As the authors of My Old Man and the Sea put it, when you are sailing, “time stretches out all around you.” Time. Such a treasure. Time to be with someone you love, doing what you love before the time has slipped away. It is a choice between material goods, a larger home, and “stuff” versus TIME. In our commercially obsessed society, the latter is a choice not often made.
So The Dream has now evolved and intensified into The Plan. We have sold our house and are reducing our inventory of “stuff.” We plan to retire from our jobs in time for the start of the new millenium in January 2001. We have been working hard to outfit our Baba 30 for our new life with radar, refrigeration, wind generator, watermaker, folding bicycles, and so on. Summer of ’99 will be our last summer on Lake Pepin. In the summer of ’00, we will move the boat south to Kentucky, where the water doesn’t freeze, and we will fly down and move aboard the following January. Then, it’s down and around Florida to the East Coast, where we plan to travel north for summers and south to the Caribbean for winters.
My bouts of anxiety are fewer and less severe now. I am eager and excited. I am becoming comfortable with the idea of embracing an open-ended adventure. (Isn’t that what our lives really are anyway?) I believe I can give society a better version of myself and trust there will be opportunities daily to make a contribution to others, one person at a time. And I will be alert to special opportunities for helping society at large. Eight years ago I could never have imagined such a dream. Now, with the real obstacles resolved (the ones in my head), it is a serious, all-consuming plan. I can hardly wait to move aboard!
Thank you to Sailrite Enterprises, Inc., for providing free access to back issues of Good Old Boat through intellectual property rights. Sailrite.com
