Bulletproof Biker

I flew into Minneapolis yesterday for meetings today with a large Corporation. Thursday after having lunch I ended up doing some shopping in a neighborhood called ‘Uptown’ which has some really fun and trendy stores. One of these stores called Ragstock carries both new and used clothing. I found a number of wonderful bargains including a leather motorcycle jacket for the unbelievably low price of $20. Here’s the hitch: I’m going through security today after my meeting and I hear the guy with the TV screen for the x-ray machine say something about ‘bullets’. I say, “That’s my bag; I’ll bet you’re talking about my ‘thumb’” which I further explain is a USB device for storing data. “No, that’s not it. We’re going to have to search the bag.” This is of course fine by me. It turns out the bag in question was not the one holding my computer but the one holding my purchases and clothing. The lady agent starts going through after explaining that I can not touch it until they are finished. They swab it; no problem. She digs in and finds a metal encased game that I’ve purchased as a present for my niece. This is shrink- wrapped in plastic which she’s ready to open. When I point out that it’s professionally encased and a gift she agrees to run it through the X-ray again along with a night light that I’d also purchased. The male agent helping her suggests that they run my bag through again too to make sure that what they had seen is confirmed as game pieces. They run it though and the big fella reading the screen asks her to change places with him and they also call a supervisor. I now go with him to another desk where he removes everything in the bag. He takes my sneakers and turns them upside down and hits them before searching with his hand. I can’t imagine what they are looking for. I asked him if the game had been the issue and he replied no, it was not. I told him I’d purchased that for my niece. He then with a grin asked if the handcuffs were for her as well. I further explained that they were a gag gift for her mother as its awfully difficult keeping a teenager in line. He winks which leads me to wonder if this bear is a member of the club. He pulls out the leather jacket. I breath a sigh of relief and tell him, “Oh, that must be what you saw; all the hardware on the jacket. I bought that at a 2^nd hand shop uptown for $20 bucks. Nope, that’s not what he saw. He does start feeling around in the jacket and then pulls a pocket inside out where he finds a minuscule hole. Now I’m starting to get nervous. It’s not really my jacket; I’d just bought it 2^nd hand and beyond trying it on quickly didn’t check it out. He’ll just find some loose change…..nope again, he digs and digs and pulls out a 22 caliber bullet! Dear God in Heaven I’m now guilty of committing a felony. He’s calm as cucumber and I’m scared to death. I don’t want to leave the airport in cuffs belonging to a cop to meet my date for the evening; bubba. I keep my cool as he’s being lovely but there are procedures to follow as a ‘crime’ has been committed and others are called. A lady agent who has joined us with a clip board and paperwork to fill out the reports joins us and asks for my ticket and identification. She asks if this is my current address and what is my phone? Being a man of this century I ask her which number she wants, she settles for home. SS # is requested next. I question the safety of giving this out to be put on paperwork that is going to be passed around; she assures me this is ok. Meanwhile my bear of an agent has dug out a total of 8 bullets and is still going. He’d had to go and get a pair of scissors to cut the lining but I requested that he cut the pocket along a seam instead as it would be easier to repair if that was possible. Now he and the supervisor almost laugh and totally realize that I’m not the kind to have bullets on my person and that my innocence is real but still the top supervisor is called to question me and also a cop who now uses his collar walkie talkie to call in a back ground check on me. “Are there any outstanding warrants for your arrest?” He politely asks me. “Good lord no.” I reply. “For your sake I hope not.” He ominously responds. Ok, now I really, really have to pee…..Still everyone is being very nice but this is not good. The big supervisor who was a good looking wholesome young man of about 15 shows up and we go through the information all over again. He’s now filling out his own paperwork for another report and also wants my cell phone # too. He explains that I’ll be getting a letter from the TSA? FED’s? I’m not even sure who I was talking to by this point. I request that he adds to his report the innocent circumstances and perhaps even my stupidity and then I politely ask him if now I was going to be hassled every time I went through security and he assured me not. But, he added should I be caught again with a weapon like a knife, gun, or ammunition going through security that at the least I would receive a fine. Fine? Fine. I’m absolutely fine with that because I’m never buying anything old again. Ever. While this is going on my bear digs out a cut portion of a stripped drinking straw that is about 3” long. (Great not only was the former owner of the jacket a hired killer but he was also a druggie.) There is also a large nut (like what goes with a large bolt) that has a piece of tin foil balled up in the center. He ignores this completely and tells me that he thinks he got them all but do I want him to run the jacket through x-ray again just to make sure? Yes please sir. He returns telling the now considerable crowd of officials around me but talking to and looking at me that there’s one more little devil hiding in there but he’ll find it. Now one of the lady agents picks up the nut and says, “There’s something in here wrapped in foil.” My bear/angel takes it from here and says, “Let’s see about that.” Now I really have to piss. I’m just sure they’re going to find something in a white powder and I’ll be on my way to my date with bubba. He slowly unwraps the foil, rubs it between his thumb and forefinger and while looking into my eyes tells her it’s nothing. I’m not sure if it was my imagination but I could swear that there was powder on the table (which I’m not about to point out…..”Hey! Isn’t that drugs?!”) The cop who’s run the background check tells the head supervisor that I’m ‘ok’. The supervisor tells me to be more careful of committing felonies in the future and the bear tells me I’m allowed to repack my bag better than he did if I want.

I got to the gate and directly onto the plane while thanking God for looking after a silly vain fashionista. Evidently they’re more sophisticated in Minneapolis than many other cities as the agents cumulatively decided that I was harmless and innocent but boy could that have turned out differently with different people.

The moral of the story: stupidity is now a felony but it is not punishable for the truly inept. That and be really, really nice to bears cause they may be the only thing standing between you and a really bad future. And be yourself; what saved me was when he had to cut open the lining of the jacket to get at the live ammunition and I asked him if it would be possible to cut open in the pocket and on the seam as that would be easier to fix. Everybody knows that fags don’t mess with guns!

Profile away as far as I’m concerned.

July 7

We awakened to an overcast day and felt in no rush to move quickly. After a leisurely breakfast we all puttered about. Our intention was to go ashore for showers, tour another of the mansions that we’d not been to and have dinner, this time definitely my treat. By the time we were organized Mom said we may as well have lunch on board first. We did and by the time everything was put up and the launch called it was nearing 3 o’clock by the time we set foot on shore. In the past we’ve always used the facilities at the Ida Lewis Yacht Club so when we got ashore Dad asked where there was a place to shower and we were directed to the Seamen’s Church Institute a few doors down from the boat yard. Not knowing that one purchased tokens in advance to turn on the water both of my parents undressed and got into the showers having limited success with the water. Mom thought since a lady was in the stall next to here that she was using all the water pressure so she patiently waited until the woman was finished. Her shower mate must have heard her fiddling unsuccessfully with the knobs and finally called out, “you need a token.” Which Mom heard as, “you need to poke it.” She stood there baffled for a few moments before asking, “Exactly where do I need to poke it?” “Not ‘poke it’, token, you need a token to turn on the shower.” Meanwhile Dad had gone through a similar drill in the mens room and had by this time redressed and gone upstairs to by 3 tokens based upon the instructions from the fellow that was in the stall next to him who turned out to be the husband of the woman who was talking by now to Mom. They were friendly naked people. By this time I was in the men’s room shaving next to the husband and chatting away with him. It turned out we were both anchored in Potters Cove two nights before which got us to talking in general but mostly about sailing. Dad had returned so the 3 of us talked while they showered and continued until I was ½ finished with mine. The Mans stories were very interesting as Newport was his hoe port and he had many tales about riding out various hurricanes on board his boat. He explained, “Most people here are unconcerned as ‘the insurance will cover it’ as I’ve heard many of them say. I literally built my boat and it took me 8 years so insurance could NEVER ‘cover it’ where I’m concerned!” No doubt. 8 years is a lot of life to devote to anything. I understood where he was coming from but my passions being different I’d not risk my life for a boat. Works of art or other human beings most definitely but a boat, no. That is a part of what makes life so interesting; communication with people who are different from us.
Our $2 showers respectively finished we made our way over to The Black Pearl to make a reservation for dinner. It was getting too late to see another house so we decided Mom and I would wander the shops and Dad would hang out in a chair by the shops on the water and people watch. Shopping is not his thing but it is most assuredly ours. We walked down to Thames Street and went into The Armory (antiques and fine art 365 Thames Street, Newport 401-848-2398) which was chock full of antiques, collectables, memorabilia, and junk. I found a number of things that I liked, all of which were priced fairly (meaning not bargains but that they knew what they were selling and it’s value) and so passed them by until coming upon a carved wooden architectural scale model of a spiral staircase which was a bargain. Probably due to the fact that the base was slightly warped but it is totally fixable. A charge/ship was handled by Wendy, an actress who is soon to be interpreting the role of Blanche Dubois in A Streetcar Named Desire. We discussed her character analysis of Blanche at length and were on our way. Despite having no room for one more anything in my apartment I’ve always wanted one of these models and have only ever seen them for many hundreds to thousands of dollars so I was thrilled by the purchase.
A few blocks down the street we stood outside a shop called ‘Down Under Jewelry’ (479 Thames Street 401-849-1078 www.downunderjewelry.com, info@downunderjewelry.com) where some of the objects in the window appeared to be positively glowing with an inner light. I scanned the cases in a quick run through before settling in front of a cube containing pieces by Me & Ro (www.meandrojewelry.com) The proprietor Rosemary Laramee was helping me and removed a sterling sliver Sanskrit inscribed disc the size of a dime. Onto its surface were carved the Immeasurables: love, compassion, joy, and equanimity. Drilled in the center and attached with a flesh colored cord I had to make my second purchase of the day. It rests just over my clavicle and I thought what a wonderful talisman to make all issues from my voice box be filled with these qualities. I’ve worn it now for 24 hours and so far it’s not been an instant cure. I still find myself saying, "Oops, did I just say that out loud??"
Rosemary was ringing up the sale and asked if I wanted to keep looking around. "No thanks," I confidently replied, "I’ve looked at everything." Oh, the conceit. She ever so slightly looked up at me out of the corner of her eye, "Well maybe I didn’t see everything." I backed away from the display case while keeping one eye on her. Turning slightly as the sun broke through the clouds for just a moment, illuminating a free standing case just in front of me. I looked down and gasped. The first thing my eye fell on was a burnished silver square with rounded corners and diamonds subtly glistening like dew on a leaf along 2 of the 4 edges. It looked like something crafted by fairies in the forest; organic and magical. Mom was looking down into the case too by this point, staring at the same ring. "I’ve only one ring finger left that arthritis hasn’t ruined", she said with a note of longing in her voice. This was an object of desire. Rosemary was on her way across the floor with what should have been (but probably wasn’t) a smug look upon her face. As she was reaching into the case to retrieve the magical ring the spell was for a moment and I took in the entire case. Everything was wonderful and clearly by the same designer and all with the identical mystical organic sensibility. There was a large thick wide band that had striations around its circumference with tiny diamonds sparkling randomly on its surface. With no encouragement from the owner Mom ordered her size in the square ring and I shortly followed suit by placing a custom order for the band. If anyone had ever said I’d want a ring with diamonds I would not have believed it but this really does look like something that fell out of Tolkien’s world before the fairies sailed off to a new land taking all the magic with them. I can’t wait to get this purchase, at which point I’ll get more information about the artist and post it on the site.
Mom was quite happy now too due to her new acquisition. We strolled back to where we’d left Dad to pick him up and go to dinner. As it turned out we did not make a reservation at the Black Pearl due to their dress code: no sneakers (me), no blue jeans (Mom), no tank tops (none of us) so we’d made reservations next door at Clark Cooke (401) 849-2900 where we’d had a wonderful dinner 2 years ago. We were again not disappointed. They’d added a Sushi Bar since we were last here so I started with a miso soup and a seaweed salad (which believe it or not I’d been craving since pulling the weeds off the propeller). Both were delicious and followed by a salmon that was just barely warm, totally fresh and absolutely perfect. I was in heaven being able to eat as I ordinarily do after a week of ‘boat food’ which had been good but just not what this spoiled city boy is used to. Mom of all things was craving a burger which was enormous and Dad started with crab cakes which I could see were mostly crab (he said they were great) followed by scrod which looked and smelled delicious which he assured me it was. As we had some time before the hourly launch we ordered deserts: she had julienne pineapple and mango with berries and homemade sherbet, he had key lime pie, and I had an apple tart tartin which was prepared with minimal sugar and so was perfection to me. While waiting for the launch we each had a piece of salt water taffy that I’d bought along with a fudge sampler after we left Down Under Jewelry. I don’t think I’ve had salt water taffy since the New Jersey Shore when I was a child and it was as delicious as I remember.
Back on board Dad rallied and beat Mom in two out of three at Chinese checkers and so went proudly to bed with head high and a straight back. Mom meanwhile sat at the table looking like she’d accidentally swallowed her familiar so I played tow games of reversie with her, both of which she won. She too went to bed smiling. So did I; dreaming of miniature stairways that fairies play on when not making beautiful jewelry which is scattered with diamonds like dew drops on a leaf.

July 6th

I awakened at 8:15 to the hum of the motor. Dad had decided that since the day was pretty much crap; foggy and calling for rain, we might as well get an early start down to Newport. We motored down the East Passage to Breton Cove where we had to drop anchor as the Ida Lewis Yacht Club moorings were all booked up. Our passage was not without its unexpected challenges. Firstly the afternoon before the speed indicator had stopped working and Dad thought it possible that something had gotten caught in the propeller which he was unable to dislodge even when pulling the unit up through the hull of the boat. (You’ve got to be quick on this job as water comes shooting up through the hole when the indicator is yanked). Then we noticed that all the buoy’s and depth markers had disappeared from the GPS. Re-booting did not fix the problem. I went entirely through the manual; playing with the screens to no avail. Suddenly as we approached the end of Prudence Island the markings started to appear to the south of our position. Prior to this Dad and I were chatting and discussing the GPS and not paying a whole lot of attention to the water as we were pretty much alone when suddenly our speed slowed down. In not paying attention we’d motored directly through a floating patch of seaweed and sea grass. Dad tried reversing the engine twice to dislodge the debris to no avail. “I hate to ask this but can you dive below and see if we have crap wrapped around the propeller and if so pull it off?” Of course I could; Super Hero Navy Seal (in my own mind) to the rescue. Since the water is still pretty cold and I didn’t have a wet suit I quickly decided that looking good would be my best defense while doing the job so I went below to change into a dark green Speedo that exactly matches the hull of the boat. While we drifted in the East Passage I executed a flawless dive from the starboard deck into water that was 75-90 feet deep according to the charts and 65 degrees according to the weather channel but I honestly think those computer voices were lying. It was more like 50 degrees and sucked the air right out of my lungs. Two dives under the boat to pull off about a soccer ball sized mess of weed that was tightly wrapped around the propeller and drive shaft and I swam back to the ladder we’d dropped over the side and climbed out of the invigorating water.


We made it to Newport without further incident until we put the boat into reverse to back down on the anchor. A loud metallic clanking sound that none of us had ever heard before issued from the bowels of the engine compartment. After a few moments of thought Dad (who is a navel architect by trade and can fix anything on the boat) said he thought he knew what may be wrong. The drive shaft had slipped in trying to reverse the weeds off of the propeller. I suspected that my underwater yanking of the crap may have contributed if not caused the problem but kept that counsel to myself. 45 minutes later in tight positions and this too was fixed. This is Dad’s version of yoga. Actually he has in the past developed tendonitis from being in bizarre and cramped positions on the boat for hours on end by virtue of not first having warmed up according to his doctor. Who knew? I have to tell you I love boats and sailing but don’t ever want to won one. I don’t know what people who are not engineers do when facing these problems. I’d be prone at some point to just stand on deck with a bull horn, “Help! I need someone competent on board!! Dilettante in Distress!!” (Great title for my autobiography)
Mom and I took the launch ashore and walked to the Stop and Shop for supplies and then back to the boat with same. It seemed upon returning on the launch to the boat that our position had changed but I gave it little thought as perspectives on the water always change. It turned out that Dad had in fact pulled anchor and moved the boat twice in our absence of 1 ½ hours. A youngish woman had motored her sloop into the harbor, dropped anchor near to us and jumped a launch to shore. Her anchor was not properly set so her boat was dragging. Sometimes under these circumstances an anchor will set itself again but this was not one of those times. She continued to crag, becoming a definite threat to other unattended boats so we finally called the harbor master to report our location and the problem. (In the picture you can see where she {the white sloop} is bearing down on the little boat)

They arrived within 5 minutes or so. Dad climbed back on board out of the dingy where he had been preparing to row over to the near colliding boats to our starboard to potentially avert an accident. The harbor master (no he was not dressed in leather) arrived with 2 assistants on board. I waved to them and they then headed toward our boat. With gestures they asked which boat and I pointed toward the offender. They pulled along side of her and made fast while one fellow jumped on board to pull up the anchor. The yelled over that she had at least 70 feet of lead out which is twice what was needed in a tight anchorage of this depth. We thought they were just going to reset the anchor but just as soon as it was hauled they took off rafted to her side and moved her clear across the harbor to a remote mooring where they made her fast. We were of course glad that the threat was past but wondered what this gal was going to do when she the launch brought her back to the location where she’d left her boat. Hopefully that will be enough of a lesson that she’ll be more careful in making sure her anchor is actually set before leaving her boat unattended next time.
The weather report had radically changed because of a tropical storm coming ashore in the gulf which would be responsible for dumping a lot of rain on us Friday which changed our plans. We’d already decided to stay in Newport Thursday to spend some time ashore, tour another mansion, and go out to dinner. Now it looked as if we’d be here Friday too only because it would be so miserable and they were predicting wind gusts of 25-30 knots and a small craft advisory as the front moved through. Why be out in that mess if we don’t have to? Not too many years ago rain was rarely a factor in Dad’s plans but age and conservative nature have tempered that much to my Mom’s and my relief.
Thursday night we finished up leftovers for dinner with fresh marinated berries picked up at market that afternoon served over pineapple cake. Mom proceeded to kick Dad’s butt in a game of Chinese checkers. He crawled up the passageway of shame to the forward cabin and into his bunk. She meanwhile sat tat the table in the main cabin while staring me down with a sickening gleam in her eye as I tried unsuccessfully to read. I collapsed under the pressure after about 15 long and painful seconds of soul searching before joining her at the table of my doom. This must be what POW/s experience; you know something horrible is coming yet still participate in your own eventual suffering. I forestalled the inevitable by suggesting we play the last hand of Shanghai Rum knowing full well that there was no way I could still win but naively figuring that if I could lay down my cards while leaving her with a full hand that perhaps she’d think twice about terrifying her offspring, spouses, and occasionally small children with her intimidating competitiveness. The objective in the last hand of this game is while holding 15 carks to have 3 runs of 5 of the same suit. Five minutes into the hand and I was having remarkable luck; I had only to draw a 5 of spades or a wild card to win the hand and avoid a complete slaughter! I discarded a queen of hearts. Slowly her right hand released the fan of cards, leaving her left hand alone to hold the weight. I watched horrified as in slow motion this right appendage which had in t the blink of an eye transformed into a claw swept down upon the now screaming queen (the card, not me) and swooped her up to the aerie. Slowly her eyes which were now red rimmed black pinpoints that swallowed the ambient light flickering from the two lit candles stared into mine as the talons lowered the cards to the table. “Noooooo……!” I screamed (silently so as to not awaken Dad again to the nightmare of his and now my defeat) but it was too late. Three runs of five hit the table; two of the runs including face cards which had joined me in silent screams of horror over my foul, shameful, and bloody demise at the ands of my mother. “You were making me nervous, I couldn’t wait any longer” she pointlessly croaked at my now prone carcass.
Not being one to hold a grudge or to be a sore loser I said not a word as she slid the Chinese checker board across the table from where it had been impatiently waiting. I would swear I heard it groan with pleasure as her hand stroked its blood soaked wood. “I’ll be white” she intoned while leaving me to (of cours) be red. Psychological warfare is the least of her weapons I thought while setting my already bloodied players upon the board. At her bequest I moved first. She moved, I moved and somehow I have yet to figure out her second move involved multiple jumps which is a feat impossible for mere mortals. In the face of my very slaughter my senses heightened and focused. My players were virtually flying across the board, leap-frogging her white knights. With my heightened awareness I saw not only my current possibilities but also hers and so in one move blocked a passage she had been setting up. “You BITCH!” she growled from across the table. I wet my pants in fear of her full evil being revealed and rolled belly up for her to finish the game in a few short moves. Actually this was due more to the fact that I could no longer concentrate due to laughing at the reality of my mother getting so frustrated that a curse word slipped from her lips. A rare occasion indeed. After raising my hands in mock surrender I retired to my bunk with a book and a smile.

July 5th

I awakened at 6am and went above deck to find that we were completely socked in by fog. This made it a very private situation for peeing off the stern. Plus since I was not wearing my glasses or contacts I couldn’t see anything anyway so even if anyone could see me I couldn’t see them! I felt like a 5 year old hiding my line of vision behind a chair leg; if I couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see me.

We breakfasted in the cockpit on grapefruit, OJ, and yogurt with fresh fruit and mixed nuts. The three of us puttered around doing our own things waiting for the fog to burn off so that we could motor up the Sakonnet River around, around the top of Rhode Island, RI (the island upon which Newport Exists)
I never realized prior to studying this chart that this is the setup. I’d always thought that the island was itself called Newport…… We Americans and our geography challenges.



When we got underway we sailed most of the distance using the motor as a boost when passing a swing bridge by The Hummocks and when coming into Potter Cove in Prudence Island to drop anchor. Dinner was very simple; we combined 4 sweet and sour chicken frozen dinners from Lean Cuisine in the double boiler and Mom made salads. After dinner Dad retired by 9:30 and Mom and I stayed up until midnight playing Shanghai Rum. This is unfortunately a card and not a drinking game. I was winning the first few hands which was horrifying her. There was a scary moment when her incisors first starting growing in the heat of competition but since she was able to ultimately wipe the decks with me further violence was averted.

July 4th

Before pulling anchor Dad asked me if I’d mind going ashore to fill up some 5 gallon water containers to top up the tanks. As this meant that I could shower again I happily agreed. That done and back on board with the addition of another block of ice for the chest and we pulled anchor.
There was no breeze so we motored out of the harbor, past the breakwater in Fishers Island Sound, and back out into Block Island Sound. We rounded Napatree Point which due to 30 foot swells in the hurricane of ’38 and been washed free of wall to wall Victorian Summer houses and wisely never rebuilt. I can’t think of too many other areas in the world that I’ve been to where Mother Nature speaks and man listens. Usually the rebuilding begins as the debris is being hauled off. We passed to the south of beach cottages, many of which are the original structures albeit retrofitted. There is a wonderful beach front hotel right out of a Steven King novel called Ocean House Hotel that I really want to stay at in the near future. I just checked on line and they say they’re closed for renovation and a pending sale but when sailing past it looked like it was in business to me so maybe the site has not been updated. Dad and I walked through it a few summers ago and it really was like stepping back in time (and into a scary movie, I loved it!) I’ve always spent my summers boating into these towns and it occurred to me today that I’d thoroughly enjoy a very long weekend/week of driving to these places and staying at one after another for a day or two carrying on right up to Nantucket. I’ve explored many of them over the years and know I would enjoy spending more time than a few hours.
The wind picked up from the N/E and we were able to raise the main, set the jib, and turn off the engine. We sailed up the south coast of RI past numerous beach front communities. One of dad’s friends calls this stretch ‘boredom beach’. We rounded Point Judith after sailing across Refuge Harbor and continued a very pleasant sail making about 5 knot up past Sachuest and rounding Flint Point where we were able to pick up a mooring and spend a very quiet and peaceful night. Dinner was once again a sampling plate of the various salads and meatloaf followed by more berries/cake/cream.

July 3rd

We got up by 7:30 and Mom and I went ashore on the Dobson’s Launch to take advantage of their shower facilities (the boat does not have a proper shower). The launch driver was as usual intelligent, wholesome, and adorable. I don’t know where they find these A & F type youngsters. Going ashore to shower always makes me very happy so the day started off wonderfully. It never fails to amaze me how much every day events that we normally take for granted in our own spoiled and privileged lives become huge treats when not accessible as we are used to. Just go camping and you’ll see what I mean. We returned to the boat for a breakfast of yogurt with fruit and nuts and Dad told us he’d decided that we’d stay put today and relax as otherwise we’d be on a hard beat (sailing into the wind) and then end up in a mess of boats on Block Island without a mooring reservation which we’d need on a holiday weekend. We decided to go ashore in the afternoon and walk around town and then go out to eat. I love Stonington and wished I’d had the means and the forethought to have purchased real estate her 15 or 20 years ago when one still could. Now it is untouchable except for the very rich. We had a lovely walk through town; the very last fixer upper was being worked on. The old factory that had been gutted by a major fire 2 years ago while in the process of being renovated into luxury condo’s (what else) was nearing completion. The 5 freestanding housed also going up on the property were starting at 1.3 million. Two summers before an old columned wreck had just started its renovations. Mom and I decided that it was inherited by a young couple from an ancient auntie who had not changed a thing in 90 years. This story came from peeking in the lower windows when it was under reconstruction and seeing all the antique furniture stacked up and covered in room that were not yet being worked on. It too was now finished and looking beautiful. We passed my favorite house which is a renovated church just as the occupants were coming out to their car. The lady of the house and I exchanged pleasantries and I walked away wishing that they were on their way in instead of out and maybe I could have finagled a tour. I’ve always loved interesting architecture and when I was a youngster I would tell people that I was a student and would love to tour their fantastic space. No one ever said no but that was 20 years ago and I’m not so sure that today folks would be so willing to show a complete stranger the layout of their house. I know that I wouldn’t.
Dinner at Boom was wonderful as it has always been every summer that we’ve dined there since it opened. I had the house mesclin followed by perfectly prepared lightly breaded and flash fried calamari. For an entrée I chose one of the days specials: sesame -encrusted seared tuna served on a bed of slaw that would have been improved had they prepared it with shredded mango. I shared a piece of coconut cake with Mom that was lighter than air and completely unlike the 20 lb. coconut cakes I used to by at Christmas time from church ladies when I lived down south.

July 2nd

First chore of the morning was cranking Dad up the mast to reattach the apparent wind indicator which is secured at the top of the mast. We left Sterling Basin around 10am with a favorable current and no wind to speak of. I’d cast off the mooring when Dad called up to me that we were coming back around to pick it up again. I’d heard the engine having a little trouble starting so didn’t think a thing about it. I sat on the cabin roof enjoying the sun and also having an unpleasant daydream of being blown off the roof into the water as the boat exploded. I didn’t credit this to much more than an incredibly over active imagination and triggered no doubt by hearing the minor engine trouble. Dad poked around for a bit and then called up to me, “we’re ready to go but come look at this; I want to show you something.” The something turned out to be a corrupted gasket that had decayed and bubbled. The engine had sure enough been leaking gas which Moms supersensitive sense of scent had picked up. A good thing too as given the right (or wrong) set of circumstances a continuing build up of leaking fuel and the fumes could, with just a spark from the plugs have lead to the big boom. My daydream turned out to be a warning prophecy not just garden variety neurosis. Again I said another prayer of thanks that I am not smoking! Not that had I been smoking that it would have definitely blown up the boat but it easily could have.
We cast off again with disaster averted and motored into Greenport Harbor. The wind started to pick up from the west north/west as we reached Orient Harbor so I raised the main and then set the jib (the sail in the very front of the boat that is usually a pretty color in any race you’ve seen on TV). Soon after we were able to shut off the engine which is a sound every sailor loves. We sailed east across Gardiner’s Bay to Block Island Sound passing along the south side of Plum Island which I’d never done before. (On the topic of Plum Island if you’ve never read the book with the same title do pick it up as it’s a very exciting read) Last autumn the folks managed to get on a private tour of Plum Island which I’d love some day to do myself. The Island is run/owned by the US Government and used for animal disease testing. In these treacherous times it does not take any stretch of imagination to think that it’s being used for more nefarious purposes as well….We carried on with the wind moving more to the north and sailed past the south side of Fishers Island which I’d not done either because of the potentially treacherous but these were ideal conditions for a leisurely sail and we all enjoyed the scenery and massive houses. One of my favorite waterfront houses ever is on Fishers Island on the East Harbor. It’s an old coast guard boat house that’s been converted to a private home. Just a box on the water really but it’s captured my imagination. There’s nothing grand or pretentious about the structure as is the case with so many water front properties. One of these days when we’re anchored there I may get the nerve to row over and introduce myself. Who knows maybe I can trade a tour for a sail?
We decided to go to Stonington as the wind was going to be blowing from the north and that harbor would give us more protection than would East Harbor so no chance to take a picture of my favorite to share with you.
Dinner was easy; a cold supper of meat loaf and small helpings of the various salads and for dessert sugar-marinated blue berries and strawberries served over chocolate chip pound cake with a little freshly whipped heavy cream. This may have been the first time I’ve ever manually beat whipped cream and it made me very grateful for electric mixers! It was however a delicious treat and Mom pointed out how with the red, white, and blue it was the perfect 4th of July dessert. No one, not even I believed it when I pretended for a minute that I’d planned it that way. I’m too accidental to be deliberate.
Following dinner there were four different professional displays of fireworks each of which were awesome. A beautifully clear star filled sky followed; something one never sees in Manhattan.

July 1st

The alarm went off at 6 am. Tea, breakfast, shower, and a quick trip to the store to pick up ice for the cold sack and I was at the garage by 8 am. I would have been there earlier but as I turned on the news I remembered that the new gay station (LOGO) was to have debuted the night before so I checked the listings to see what they were playing if they in fact had even made it on air. As it turned out they were and a move from 1980 called ‘Don’t stop the Music’ with Valerie Perrine, Steve Guttenberg, and The Village People was on. As a man I had dated in the 80’s was in the movie I turned it on and tripped down memory lane for a bit. Regrettably I hit the off button and headed for my vacation. The apartment Valerie Perrin’s character lived in was making me salivate and would easily go for 2 million in today’s market. Which led me to wondering when I hit the age where real estate became hot?
Despite having called last night and again this morning for my car it was still in the racks when I arrived which pissed me off a bit. I stood there fingering the tip I’d set aside in a pocked and decided that as this was the 3red time in a row that I’d called in advance for my car only to have to wait that not tip was to be forthcoming. There were 3 attendants on duty and as soon as the head guy saw me he called out to the others. They started the most amazing ballet of car shuffling and had me driving away within 3 minutes tops. Yes, I tipped.
After stopping back at my apartment to load my gear I was on my way heading out to Greenport where my parents and their boat awaited. They’d already told me we’d not be leaving before 12 or 1 so I had plenty of time. The car was covered with a layer of dust from having sat for 5 weeks in the garage so I decided to get it washed in route. My back needed an adjustment so I called my favorite chiropractor who is in Syosset and left him a message to see if by some miracle he’d squeeze me in if I came by. He returned my call as I was waiting at the car wash and much to my relief told me to come on by. Dr. B had moved to a new location but as the exit was the same as that for Ikea. I had my miracle adjustment and got to Ikea at 9:45 but as the store doesn’t open until 10 I joined the other desperate bargain shoppers in the lobby with time to read the catalogue and listen to the unbelievably inane conversations going on around me. My favorite was the 50 something dolled to the max hottie and her no doubt dirty down low boyfriend who were sitting beside me. She kept cruising the entrance with her eyes while he whined about how she never listened to him. I almost laughed out loud at one point. He’d monologued her for about a minute on her lack of focus where he was concerned and she actually turned to him and said, “Huh? Did you say something?” What I was curious about was did her start fooling around with men because she stopped listening or did she stop listening because he started on the boys? I thought about asking but the clock struck 10. I was there because I’d seen and ad on the TV for their huge annual summer sale (I didn’t see it) and needed some more hangers (8 for $3.99) for woven shirts. I also picked up some more of their mom-stick fry pans which are cheap beyond belief and wonderful. I’ve over the years used everything and spent and lost some small fortunes and there are great. They evenly distribute the heat, clean up is a breeze, and the non stick surface does not wear off. A few other odds and ends and I was done by 10:15 with no wait at the check out. I learned my lesson about super stores; get there when they open.
Driving out to the end of the Island was pleasant and uneventful; I reached the folks around 11:45. We off loaded my perishables to their fridge, had a lunch from the salads I’d prepared and then did not leave as planned. Thunderstorms were being predicted with the winds blowing hard from the NE so we decided to head out to the boat that evening, have dinner and sleep on board so as to get an early start in the morning. I spent the rest of the afternoon updating the software on Moms computer and teaching her some of the things that had been challenging her. Although it’s always a trick to teach old dogs new tricks I thoroughly applaud her (or anyone for that matter) wanting to keep abreast of technological advances. There is a real joy when a person gets a concept/technique/format and assimilates it into their day to day.
An onboard dinner of reheated fried chicken, green beans, rice, and a garden salad and we were shortly thereafter off to our respective bunks.