30 October 2007

Thanks

Every time I singlehand the boat on a beautiful day I get an urge to call my Dad. As I get the urge, I realize that picking up the phone would actually kill the moment that I want to call him about. So I sit in the boat, sailing happily along, simply enjoying the sail.

When sailing with others, my enjoyment is a mix of the sailing and socializing. Honestly, that mix makes sailing better. But there is a time and place for the absolute purity of sailing by yourself. It can truly be magical.

When I hit that place and I want to call my Dad it's to say one simple word. Thanks. Thanks for teaching me to sail. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to sail. Thanks for passing on the sailing gene sequence. It is a great gift and I truly appreciate it.

7 comments:

RichC said...

Great post ... I hope someone points it out to you dad. Nice to see fathers getting appreciation. (If you can't tell ... I'm in the "father knows very little" phase of life.
:-)

Zen said...

Very nice post!

You do not have to break the moment by calling...but the next time you do call... Tell him.

SailRacer said...

I'm right there with ya! This weekend, I was on a crew of 8 (thankfully as it was blowing 30kts). However, I thank my dad often for giving me this life.

eliboat said...

Right on Edward. You shouldn't call (or pick up a call from...) your pops while sailing for other reasons too:

http://www.eliboat.com/?p=124

Litoralis said...

When I am singlehanding my boat on a beautiful day, I often get the urge to call my Dad...to tell him to stop yelling strange things every time he crosses me, and to slow down a bit so I can beat him occasionally.

litoralis's dad said...

I have found that yelling things like "Port Tiller Rule" and "Your Outhaul's Too ....(unintelligible mumble)" are extremely helpful when boats that should be further back in the fleet get anywhere near me.

Vigilante said...

I think of my dad every time I'm out on the water. Today, at a memorial for another sailor, I mentioned that my father taught me sailing on Colorado lakes. Lessons might not have taken, had he not shoved me out in a 12 footer on Grand Lake to race against another kid in a Moth on a day that turned into a rain squall. I beat that kid, but I've been trying to finish that race ever since. And my observation this afternoon that yacht racing is a kind of a curse as well as a blessing: I'd be dying a wealthy man by now if it weren't for all that footage in fiberglass I bought along the way. OTOH, without sailing, I'd probably have died ten years ago.