We’re a sailing family once again

Sailing season is here again. Over the last few sunny days the boats have arrived. It is nice the see the dock arrayed with boats again. The boats belong to son, Bill, and friends, and a few additional skippers who have joined the group over the 13 years we have lived here. This winter they all got together to repair the dock. They got us some new deck chairs to add to the ones we had. Now when they all gather after the race to talk about every gust of wind, who did what and when, they can sit in comfort.

I grew up on Cape Cod with sailing as part of our summer. We learned the terms of jibing and tacking with a small model boat Aunt Peanut had. When we graduated to the real boat, a Cotuit skiff, we found we were watched, too carefully by the family and found it easier to crew where we were not the ones making the decisions. But when Sea and I met (in Maine) we knew we both liked the sailing life.

We were married and living in Virginia when we bought our first boat. We didn’t even have a car, but we did have a boat. We had to buy a car, a 1948 Packard from an Uncle, so we could get the boat to Virginia.  Sea sailed on the Potomac and by the time summer came along, a baby was on the way, so I mainly watched.

Sea sailed in a Comet class regatta one year. I went to Haines Point in Wash.DC to watch the races, two small kids in tow. All the boats were new and winners from their home fleets, but local Comets were invited to sail as well. As we watched the boats round a mark near to me, a gentleman watching noted the  “very old” boat was ahead of the rest of the fleet. He was impressed. I confess, I had to tell him it was my husband, and that actually, he was still rounding the first mark and the rest were on their second. It isn’t all about winning is it?

Sea sailed with Bill as crew when we moved to Bellingham. We bought the boat ( a Cal 25) when we moved here. I recall the shopping trip to Seattle. Two of our kids were off with friends, so we had the other two with us. I remember the salesman taking stock of a couple with two children telling us it was the perfect boat for us. There were two bunks in the bow and two in the cabin. Perfect… only when we cruised around the area we threw in the other two kids, the oldest got the floor between the cabin bunks and the two youngest got to share a bunk, foot to foot. The trouble is that the two youngest kept growing and somewhat outgrew the one bunk. Then it became, cruise with a friend or send a kid or two ashore to spend the night in a tent. Finally we just got a smaller boat for Bill and Sea to race.

Our move to Florida was after the kids were all grown and on their own, so once again we bought a Day Sailor. Now, with no kids to burden me, I became crew again, watching for the other boats under the sail and  keeping my head down. I had grown up with skippers yelling at their crew and was pleased when we attended a sailing race group and were told that your crew is your ally… don’t yell at them. I am sure in the fever pitch of trying to stay ahead or gain an inch or two, things are tense, but Sea never yelled at me, til we tipped over… one time… and I went to rescue his pipe while he dealt with the rest of the stuff that was floating away.

The move back to the Cape meant another small boat to race in the local fleet. I could sit at my sewing machine and watch the races. We sent Brittany to sailing camp several summers and now she has the bug as well.  It sounds like Bill’s kids are ready for sailing camp this summer. It is a friendly sport. No tackles, no head bumps and you can’t hear your fans or foes yelling at you.

kid lingo

I just came off the phone with a conversation with Amelia. She had had a busy week. She was tired…not surprising with a room full of three and four year olds. I am tired just thinking about it! She was making vanilla pudding with chocolate bits in it. “Oh… hot poop!” says I!

She had not remembered the name Sia gave to that delicious treat. It is not an elegant name… but hot poop is pretty good when you are tired and want a pick-me-up.

Sia named another meal we used to have years ago… “tuna yuk”. I am sure you have had some version of tuna fish, mushroom soup and potato chips. That is tuna yuk. Sia asked for it every time she came home from college. I doubt that either she or I have had it since.

Since my kids grew up in the Dr Seuss era of  read aloud books, we also had some repeat phrases added to our conversations. “Do you like green eggs and ham?”

“I do not like them, Sam-I-am… I do not like them here or there. I do not like them anywhere.” And since Sia had limited repetoire of what she would eat when she was young, she could substitute whatever was on the menu that evening. You can add your own list of hates to that.

There are other words I could add to the list, many are familiar kid lingo and fairly universal. Some are our variations of kid lingo, and perhaps needn’t be listed as they are not usual adult conversation.

When you think back on phrases created by your kids, the list becomes endless. There was a time when Sea and I would look at each other and say “Do you like my hat?”.  It was just a chance to talk to an adult. I guess it was a way to say hi when we hadn’t communicated in a while, and with four kids running around, it was not always easy to get a word in edgewise.

So, do you like my hat?

Stories I remember: Skateboards and Unicycles

The local paper wrote about kids who were “long boarding” down some of our very steep streets, ignoring cross streets and in general endangering themselves or others. It’s a $79 fine if caught.

My son had a skate board when he was a teen. We would load a heavy garbage bin onto it and shove it up the slope of our drive way on pick up day. I tried to ride it down a couple of times… 25 +years ago. Couldn’t stay on it. Today I am sure I would break some vital part of me even trying.

Bill had a unicycle back then as well. He was pretty good at it. He rode it the 3+ miles to middle school once. There are a lot of up hills and down hills on the route. As I recall he only did it once. I don’t think it was as much fun as he thought it would be.

Someone invaded our garage and stole some items from it one year. The unicycle was one of those items. We reported it to the police. Several neighbors had the same problem. It was several weeks later when we got a call from the police. “I think we might have your unicycle.”

Bill went with us to identify it. I am sure one unicycle looks like another to me. He looked and told the police man it was his. “Show me you can ride it ,”says the man. Bill got on easily and circled around the room. We came home with the unicycle. We could not recall much else that was stolen from our garage but there was quite a lot of stuff they had recovered from the thief.

What were you like as a child?

Interesting question. I have watched my children grow up and my grandchildren reach an age that I can see familiar traits from myself… some of them. But what was I really like? Who knows?

Mary, my older sister, was the home maker, working in the kitchen, enjoying learning how to cook. I trailed around after my dad who made up corrugated boxes for customers. I wanted to make things.

Paper dolls. That was my early work… drawing the dolls and making their clothes. Phoebe came for a visit one day and we drew the dolls  and made their outfits. Memories of my childhood.

We visited a friend of my parents in Maine one year and met a daughter who shared the same birthday month as mine.

Susan also had an older sister. I think we might have been around 7 or 8. Susan had Lincoln Logs. That is about all I remember about the visit; the Lincoln Logs. I loved them. I assumed they were boy’s toys, but there were no boys in Susan’s family. I longed to have Lincoln Logs, but never thought to ask for them. I don’t know if I would ever have gotten them. After all they were boy’s toys and there were no boys in my family and most of my cousins were girls.

By middle school age, I discovered train kits. I could buy the kits and assemble them… I could make things. That was what I liked to do.

My parents moved from the house I lived in during those model train years and wrote me asking if I had anything stored in the attic that I might like saved. I was inundated with four kids. I could not think of a thing and my treasures were tossed. It was years later I remembered those train kits… and who knows what else.

As I have learned to say: Memories and people are more important than things….

I bought Legos for my kids. They seemed almost better than Lincoln Logs .I think we had those as well, but it is the Legos that are stored in my basement at the moment, and it is Phoebe who drags them out when she is here. I have watched Phoebe (7) build cities by our fire place. I see myself in this little one and it will be interesting to see where she goes in life. I have recently seen pictures of my little grandchildren touring Lego Land. What a wonderful place!  

Who is that teacher?

My mother taught school. She kind of fell into it during WW ll. We were attending a small Quaker school and there was a need for a substitute teacher. Since she had taught Sunday School, and subs were hard to come by, there was a chance she might sub for a sick teacher.
I was in 5th grade when she first substituted in that school in my class. I recall very well wondering what I should call her: Momie, Mrs Morse, Teacher? Momie sensed the problem right away and I was sent to the office with my work for the few days she was there. She told me this was not a punishment, that I could have recess and lunch with my friends. She also promised never to sub in my class again.
I was in high school when she was asked to sub for my English  teacher. Before she accepted, she asked me. I was sure I could handle it until she made her homework assignment for my class that week. We had been studying poetry and Mrs Peckham was a very tough teacher. I was sure the homework assignment was one she would not have ever suggested…. to draw a picture to illustrate a poem. I was mortified and hung my head as we walked out of the room, only to have the whole class tell me they loved my mom. What a neat assignment. Whew… relieved. (Momie also knew I loved to draw.)

I was in high school when she got a job teaching fourth grade at my school and I would walk past the fourth grade room as my classes were letting out. The person standing in front of the class of fourth graders was not the mother I lived with. I have wondered if my children would have a different image of me as a teacher and as a mother. My youngest was in fourth grade when I was an aid at her school. She refused to even acknowledge I was related. As one of two women overseeing the play ground at recess, it happened that both of us wore red coats, so we were simply called the Red Coats… as in “Watch out. The red coats are coming.”

quilt requests from my preschool teacher-daughter

A year or so ago she wanted an alphabet quilt. I made one with large letters arranged around three sides. That way she could have circle time with each child on a letter, or so she said.

Last month, she suggested a numbers quilt. I went to the local quilt shop that carries all the Eric Carle fabrics; The Hungry Caterpillar, The Brown Bear, and others were all displayed in the back of the shop. She already had those. But was there a “numbers” book? She could not think of one. But the owner of the shop had an idea.

Julia led my to the dinosaur train fabric books and an idea surfaced. With the dinosaurs and the Eric Carle fabric that looked like crayon drawing, I scrounged together a numbers quilt and backed it with a UFO with animals and bright colors.

Was that enough for the preschool teacher? Well it was, but the quilter had more in mind. I had the class draw houses. My intent was to have houses surrounding the dinosaur train and I had planned to number the houses. Didn’t work. Didn’t look right.

A new plan was hatched. I made the houses, with a very liberal translation of what a 3 year old drawing looked like. 14 house blocks but what else? The teacher suggested people.

She teaches the little ones how to draw people: a circle for the head, larger circle for the body, or triangles. Sticks for arms and legs and small circles for the hands and feet. She made a  drawing on a note pad while we ate lunch and the light bulbs came on. She suggested I come to class with pre-cut shapes and have the kids make their own.

The pieces were cut and a background fabric prepared. The trouble with taking them in to the class was that I was having too much fun. I had people standing, waving, doing somersaults and on and on: boys and girls in bright rainbow colors. Too much fun.

The quilt is now quilted. The preschool-brained quilter will give it to the preschool teacher reluctantly. I am wondering if her little 3 year olds will recognize their house and if they will find their own person, (I am not counting in it,) or start drawing people in various poses?

Back to Inbox

Quaker school

Mary and I attended the Haverford Friends Quaker school for the two years Dad was stationed in Philadelphia. What wonderful memories. There were only 8 kids in my class, all girls. Mrs Clark was our teacher. We played field hockey in the field we walked across from our house to the school. Mary played right end. She didn’t mind all that running. My choice was goalie..(no running). Isn’t it interesting what you remember and what you don’t?  I think a sudden move from one environment to another gives your memory a kick.

There we were in the middle of the school year in a new school, new friends, new house – all different and in tough times for my parents and the world.

I had attended a Congregational church in Mass and now we had weekly Quaker Meetings for the students in this new school. Where was the music? Where was the choir in their robes walking down the aisle singing? Where was the minister standing in his robes at a pulpit? Or the stained glass windows to look at while trying to sit still?

I remember asking if it would be all right to sing and was told if I was “moved” to do so, yes. I think I tried it, and if I did I certainly came out of my shy shell to do so.