Terri Schiavo died today.
I feel sad for all her family and friends. And sad for her too. I'm sure none of us would wish that kind of end for our own lives. To suffer a health problem that puts us in a vegetative state for 15 years dependent on others for the most basic of functions and unable to enjoy most or all of the things that make life living. Deep down I think we all hope to "cheat the nursing home".
Of course the Schiavo case is even more painful with the family feuding over what to do, and endless lawsuits, and politicians exploiting the case, and intense media coverage. What a nightmare. Thankfully Terri wasn't aware of any of this. But how painful for all members of her family to have all that on top of the personal tragedy of Terri's condition.
I think we all hope for a "good death" whatever that means. After a long and fulfilling life a painless end with minimal suffering for our family and friends. My father came close to this ideal although at much too young an age - still in his early 70s. He was still physically active and mentally alert although suffering from a progressive lung disease. He died peacefully at home next to his wife of 50 years. He was one of the generation that fought and won the second world war. He lived to see some of his grandchildren married. He was able to enjoy the simple pleasures of a game of snooker and a pint of beer with his friends right until the end.
Speaking for myself I want to go out enjoying one of the great pleasure of my life. Sailing my Laser in 30 knots surfing down a wave. A quick heart attack and it's all over with a big smile on my face. Oh, before that let me enjoy seeing my great-grandchildren growing up. (As I don't yet even have one grandchild we are talking a few decades in the future). Let me grow old with my bride and life-long love. Let me retain my physical and mental abilities right up to the end. Surfing in my Laser at age 90+ sounds OK as a way to spend my last few minutes alive.
I have a bumper sticker on my car that sums it all up. "Cheat the nursing home - Die on your Laser".
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Pizza
Pizza and sailing just go together. There's something about a day on the water that creates an appetite that can only be satisfied by a big juicy wedge of pizza washed down by a draft of cold beer.
After our frostbite races we all gather in the clubhouse to relax, recover and re-hash the racing. Everyone is exhausted. Some have showered and some have not. Some are still in their sailing gear. The crowd is predominately male and there is some good natured ribbing about incidents during the day. People drift in one by one. We open cans of Bud Light and sip the metallic tasting dishwater that the folks at Anheuser-Busch market as beer. And then the pizza delivery guy arrives with six greasy cardboard boxes that he slams down on the table. Hands rummage through the boxes and tear off huge slabs of steaming, dripping pie. Conversation lapses as calories are consumed.
Wednesday night races in the summer are slightly more civilized. We race until sunset and then head off to the local inn. A mixed crowd, all ages, couples, singles. The order is always the same. A few assorted pizzas and pitchers of Yngling Lager. The pizza always seems to take too long to come. But that leaves time for a good gossip and a laugh - mainly at the expense of fellow club members not present this evening. Eventually the pizza arrives and is served on real plates. And the delicious taste of the dough, cheese and tomatoes still hits the mark and helps to ease those aching muscles.
We spent the last day of February on the hook in Admiralty Bay, Bequia - probably the most yacht friendly island in the Grenadines. And for lunch we drifted along the waterfront until we arrived at the famous Mac's Pizzeria. We sat in the semi-open bar with some friends and enjoyed the view of the bay and the warm tropical breezes. The pace was relaxed. Just chillin'. Lunch was lobster pizza with the local Hairoun beer. Followed by Bequia Lime Pie and rum punch.
Beats a cheeseburger in paradise any day.
After our frostbite races we all gather in the clubhouse to relax, recover and re-hash the racing. Everyone is exhausted. Some have showered and some have not. Some are still in their sailing gear. The crowd is predominately male and there is some good natured ribbing about incidents during the day. People drift in one by one. We open cans of Bud Light and sip the metallic tasting dishwater that the folks at Anheuser-Busch market as beer. And then the pizza delivery guy arrives with six greasy cardboard boxes that he slams down on the table. Hands rummage through the boxes and tear off huge slabs of steaming, dripping pie. Conversation lapses as calories are consumed.
Wednesday night races in the summer are slightly more civilized. We race until sunset and then head off to the local inn. A mixed crowd, all ages, couples, singles. The order is always the same. A few assorted pizzas and pitchers of Yngling Lager. The pizza always seems to take too long to come. But that leaves time for a good gossip and a laugh - mainly at the expense of fellow club members not present this evening. Eventually the pizza arrives and is served on real plates. And the delicious taste of the dough, cheese and tomatoes still hits the mark and helps to ease those aching muscles.
We spent the last day of February on the hook in Admiralty Bay, Bequia - probably the most yacht friendly island in the Grenadines. And for lunch we drifted along the waterfront until we arrived at the famous Mac's Pizzeria. We sat in the semi-open bar with some friends and enjoyed the view of the bay and the warm tropical breezes. The pace was relaxed. Just chillin'. Lunch was lobster pizza with the local Hairoun beer. Followed by Bequia Lime Pie and rum punch.
Beats a cheeseburger in paradise any day.
Dennis
Dennis is The Man. At least on Mayreau, Dennis is The Man.
Mayreau, one of my favorite islands is in the world, is in the Grenadines. There is one village with a couple of hundred inhabitants, one street, one school and one tiny church perched on top of the hill. A few cars, several beaches, half a dozen bars and views to die for.
Dennis is the local entrepreneur, thought leader and trendsetter. Dennis has to be first. First on the island to own a car. First guesthouse. First Internet cafe. We heard Dennis is currently planning to the first islander with his own swimming pool.
We sailed into Mayreau a couple of weeks ago. And after a day of beach stuff we set off for the evening cultural tour of the village. OK it was really a pub crawl. We started at the first bar on the street and worked our way up the hill. We drifted from bar to bar. Nobody minded if you carried drinks from one establishment to the next. Eventually we arrived at Dennis's place.
Of course, Dennis's place was grander than all the others. Hammock on the verandah. Loud West Indian music. Pictures on the wall in the bar of George, Prince of Denmark and Princess Diana. Definitely a classy nightspot by Mayreau standards.
Dennis had a presence about him. You could see he was a natural leader. We had heard that in his rush to embrace modern technology he was the first to get his house wired up to the recently installed central electrical power station. And that, as a result of an electrical fault, his house burned down. We commiserated with him about his loss.
"Oh yeah, man. It was a bad year, last year. My house burned down, my wife left me and my yacht sank".
It sounded more like a setup line than a personal tale of woe. So I asked him which was the worst of these losses to bear.
His eyes twinkled. He paused for effect. "Oh man, the yacht, of course. I'm sure going to miss her".
Mayreau, one of my favorite islands is in the world, is in the Grenadines. There is one village with a couple of hundred inhabitants, one street, one school and one tiny church perched on top of the hill. A few cars, several beaches, half a dozen bars and views to die for.
Dennis is the local entrepreneur, thought leader and trendsetter. Dennis has to be first. First on the island to own a car. First guesthouse. First Internet cafe. We heard Dennis is currently planning to the first islander with his own swimming pool.
We sailed into Mayreau a couple of weeks ago. And after a day of beach stuff we set off for the evening cultural tour of the village. OK it was really a pub crawl. We started at the first bar on the street and worked our way up the hill. We drifted from bar to bar. Nobody minded if you carried drinks from one establishment to the next. Eventually we arrived at Dennis's place.
Of course, Dennis's place was grander than all the others. Hammock on the verandah. Loud West Indian music. Pictures on the wall in the bar of George, Prince of Denmark and Princess Diana. Definitely a classy nightspot by Mayreau standards.
Dennis had a presence about him. You could see he was a natural leader. We had heard that in his rush to embrace modern technology he was the first to get his house wired up to the recently installed central electrical power station. And that, as a result of an electrical fault, his house burned down. We commiserated with him about his loss.
"Oh yeah, man. It was a bad year, last year. My house burned down, my wife left me and my yacht sank".
It sounded more like a setup line than a personal tale of woe. So I asked him which was the worst of these losses to bear.
His eyes twinkled. He paused for effect. "Oh man, the yacht, of course. I'm sure going to miss her".
Saturday, February 19, 2005
Focus
We went to Disneyworld last month. I was sitting on the wall outside the Magic Kingdom waiting for Mickey and his friends to do their show and open the park. Sitting next to me was a bright dark-haired little boy who was looking at the map of the park and excitedly telling his mom all the things they had to see. I smiled at her as he told everyone in earshot about how his map told him where all the bathrooms were in case she had to use them. Then he surprised her by telling her something about an attraction she hadn't expected to hear.
"Who told you that?" she asked.
"Nobody. I focused" the little genius replied.
She laughed. "They're teaching 5 year-olds to focus now".
I could just imagine his kindergarten teacher telling her class to focus so they could answer her questions. And of course our young friend is absolutely right. To achieve anything worthwhile you have to focus. Meaning to concentrate on doing one thing really well and avoiding distractions. Ellen MacArthur has just broken the world record for sailing solo non-stop around the world. Her whole sailing career is one of single-minded laser-like focus to become the best ocean racer she can be. I'm sure I would be a better sailor if I only focused more. Focused on practicing and getting fit. Focused during races on the important stuff like what the wind and current are doing.
Easy to say. Much much harder to do. But if a 5-year-old can focus, there's hope for the rest of us.
"Who told you that?" she asked.
"Nobody. I focused" the little genius replied.
She laughed. "They're teaching 5 year-olds to focus now".
I could just imagine his kindergarten teacher telling her class to focus so they could answer her questions. And of course our young friend is absolutely right. To achieve anything worthwhile you have to focus. Meaning to concentrate on doing one thing really well and avoiding distractions. Ellen MacArthur has just broken the world record for sailing solo non-stop around the world. Her whole sailing career is one of single-minded laser-like focus to become the best ocean racer she can be. I'm sure I would be a better sailor if I only focused more. Focused on practicing and getting fit. Focused during races on the important stuff like what the wind and current are doing.
Easy to say. Much much harder to do. But if a 5-year-old can focus, there's hope for the rest of us.
Friday, February 18, 2005
Where do flies go in the winter?
When I woke up this morning the lake was frozen and dusted with wind-blown snow. Fairly typical for New Jersey in February. Around here almost every lake in the region is populated with sailboats in the summer months. But in the winter the lakes freeze and the sailors disapppear. Where do they go? What do they do?
The majority of sailors, I suspect, take the view that sailing is a summer sport and they find something else to do in the winter. Skiing. Watching college football. Cheering the New Jersey Devils - oh sorry hockey fans - I forgot - not this year. Tidying up the basement. Yawn.
A more obsessive minority can't stop thinking about sailing in the winter. They plan their next season's sailing. They go to boat shows in cavernous convention halls. They dream about summer breezes. They go to meetings to plan yacht club programs and they debate minutiae until they are sick of each other. I know. I've been to some of those meetings. They spend hours discussing scoring systems and racing rules and other abstractions. I've even fallen into this trap myself. Guilty as charged.
But the real lunatic fringe keep sailing. They drive to yacht clubs in Connecticut or Long Island or on the Jersey Shore to race in frostbite programs. They disappear to Florida for midwinter regattas. Or they spend all week exchanging emails with fellow fanatics about which local lake might actually have some liquid water this weekend. Then they converge on the lucky lake hauling their boats on trailers and sail between the ice floes until their hands are numb and their decks are covered in ice. Nuts.
I'm one of the lunatic fringe. Last weekend my friend S. and I sailed our Lasers on Round Valley Reservoir. There were huge gusts scooting across the lake whipping up whitecaps. On the dam the warning light was flashing intermittently. This is supposed to indicate that the wind is over 20 knots and all boating must cease, but we didn't believe it. Over 2000 acres and 55 billion gallons of icy water and 2 small sailboats planing back and forth in the middle. No sight of another human being. It felt quite isolated, wild, remote. And then it started to snow. Magic!
The majority of sailors, I suspect, take the view that sailing is a summer sport and they find something else to do in the winter. Skiing. Watching college football. Cheering the New Jersey Devils - oh sorry hockey fans - I forgot - not this year. Tidying up the basement. Yawn.
A more obsessive minority can't stop thinking about sailing in the winter. They plan their next season's sailing. They go to boat shows in cavernous convention halls. They dream about summer breezes. They go to meetings to plan yacht club programs and they debate minutiae until they are sick of each other. I know. I've been to some of those meetings. They spend hours discussing scoring systems and racing rules and other abstractions. I've even fallen into this trap myself. Guilty as charged.
But the real lunatic fringe keep sailing. They drive to yacht clubs in Connecticut or Long Island or on the Jersey Shore to race in frostbite programs. They disappear to Florida for midwinter regattas. Or they spend all week exchanging emails with fellow fanatics about which local lake might actually have some liquid water this weekend. Then they converge on the lucky lake hauling their boats on trailers and sail between the ice floes until their hands are numb and their decks are covered in ice. Nuts.
I'm one of the lunatic fringe. Last weekend my friend S. and I sailed our Lasers on Round Valley Reservoir. There were huge gusts scooting across the lake whipping up whitecaps. On the dam the warning light was flashing intermittently. This is supposed to indicate that the wind is over 20 knots and all boating must cease, but we didn't believe it. Over 2000 acres and 55 billion gallons of icy water and 2 small sailboats planing back and forth in the middle. No sight of another human being. It felt quite isolated, wild, remote. And then it started to snow. Magic!
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Opening Lines
"Call me Ishmael..... " No - that won't do. Been used before.
"When I wrote the following pages, or rather the bulk of them, I lived alone, in the woods...." Also been done before. Even if half true.
How is one supposed to start a blog? This is a new experience for me. And there appears to be no standard etiquette on the matter.
Some new bloggers start with a personal introduction. But I'm not sure yet whether this blog is going to be anonymous or not. There seem to be shades of grey of anonymity in the blogosphere. Some people seem to start off anonymously but as the blog builds and describes more and more details of personal or professional life, the people who know the blogger must start to guess his or her identity. I suspect this blog will be like that. So no real introduction here. The blog will be a reflection of my identity which may or not become a totally clear image as the months progress.
And what will the subject be? That's easy. Sailing is my passion and I have felt driven for some time to write about it. This medium seems to be the perfect one for sharing the random thoughts about sailing that roll around my head and touch on almost every aspect of the sport. But should it be exclusively about sailing? Or one of those more wide-ranging blogs covering many aspects of an individual's life. Focus or variety. We will see.....
So the blog will be a voyage with an unknown destination and no charts. An exploration that will take us where the winds and currents take us. Let's haul up the anchor and set sail.
We're on our way.......
"When I wrote the following pages, or rather the bulk of them, I lived alone, in the woods...." Also been done before. Even if half true.
How is one supposed to start a blog? This is a new experience for me. And there appears to be no standard etiquette on the matter.
Some new bloggers start with a personal introduction. But I'm not sure yet whether this blog is going to be anonymous or not. There seem to be shades of grey of anonymity in the blogosphere. Some people seem to start off anonymously but as the blog builds and describes more and more details of personal or professional life, the people who know the blogger must start to guess his or her identity. I suspect this blog will be like that. So no real introduction here. The blog will be a reflection of my identity which may or not become a totally clear image as the months progress.
And what will the subject be? That's easy. Sailing is my passion and I have felt driven for some time to write about it. This medium seems to be the perfect one for sharing the random thoughts about sailing that roll around my head and touch on almost every aspect of the sport. But should it be exclusively about sailing? Or one of those more wide-ranging blogs covering many aspects of an individual's life. Focus or variety. We will see.....
So the blog will be a voyage with an unknown destination and no charts. An exploration that will take us where the winds and currents take us. Let's haul up the anchor and set sail.
We're on our way.......
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