Aren’t we a people who love to label? Sadly, our rush to categorize often dismisses the real chances of nuance. Some names stick, perhaps deservedly. Others are short lived, but some can be endearing. The term “hippie” wrangles some still. For others its a badge of honor. I use the term lightly to describe a somewhat counter current attitude to life’s hustle and bustle.  Out of admiration I label the most diverse group of people I’ve ever met. My daughter says we all dress like bums (guys that is). Sure Crocs are ugly, but they work. This is our Old Bay Club, a Traditional Small Craft Association. With no rules nor officers, we somehow have struck a chord allowing everyone to sing. Granted we’re shabbily attired, yet no one person’s history matches the other’s. Ages vary, in some cases by decades. However, we all take the time to encourage each other to come along. Conversations are able to roll over the political speed bumps and set aside any “my way or the highway” discussion. That is until there’s the mention of sailing. That art is what bands our group together. For me it is a love for some buddies I’d otherwise never have been given the opportunity to know. This weekend about 20 of us spent time together through wind, rain and sun all tempered by wonderful food and drink.

 

 

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Some memories:

Whispered wood stove conversations so as not to wake the fellow dosing off after a long day.

Friends bearing gifts … a beef knuckle for your dog!? Now who’s the favorite?

Watching a friend try a new dinghy as the same dog clambers aboard refusing to be left.

Delicious York River oysters large enough to choke on.

The beauty of sailing along a classic boat like Herreshoff’s Coquina.

Bike rides along country roads.

Rowing in a protected cove as winds roar over the trees

The elation of finding a waterman’s oar, an artifact of simple beauty, washed up in the marsh only to be asked later, “has anyone seen my oar”.

Watching a friend fly her kite with the delight of a 4 year old girl. Remember when?

A blustery sail with my “big brother” and my middle son pulling in the fresh air.

Knowing someone appreciates the surrounds enough to want to paint them.

Sailing with just my dog the preceding 3 days. He gets it too.

Introducing new friends to this group and having them comment on how unusual the band is.

Sorry I don’t have more. The fun overtook the documentation, but that too is a good thing. So we’ve a bit of the Monday morning blues here. Conference calls to be had. Until next time …

Thank you Boop.