Sunday, December 25, 2011
I assure you these will get better once I learn what I am doing. Some ground rules, for you; first I never trusted a person who could spell a word only one way, shows a definite lack of creativity. While I will do my best, sometimes you will just have to figure out what I meant to say. Same goes with grammar. As you will find out I am a college professor, but I teach scenic design, NOT english so get over it. Second thing is that from time to time this will be a collection of random thoughts but one thru line which is this is meant to be a record of a new life. I am not reinventing myself, but rather a new chapter in a book in which the only thing that is known is the final chapter.
I heard one person refer to "this" thing, I am told I have, as Jimmy Buffett syndrome. Like Peter Pan syndrome but with more rum, but which/whatever it is, the root of my desire to set to the water on a sailboat is unknown. As far as I know all my ancestry is tied to solid land, but there are pieces missing in my history. The first time I really remember a sailboat was when we liver in Dallas TX, I was in high school, the drinking age was 18 and gas was under 50 cents a gallon. I remember seeing small boats on what we knew as Lake Dallas zipping around seeming to defy what little of the physics I managed to stay awake for at Thomas Jefferson HS. GO Rebels ahem I mean Patriots. The boats were Sunfish, I later learned and although its sometimes still a mystery to me, I have figured out how they moved through the water going where the person holding that "stick-thing" (tiller) while sitting on the back (stern) of the boat wanted them to go. Well as many thing in an 18 year-olds life, this fascination gave way to Coors, cars and girls, then I went off to college because it just seemed like the thing to do and despite my best efforts I managed to graduate (barely). Crap, now I need a job! From the liquor store to an art agency in Dallas I found myself out in the "real" world. The liquor store was fun but paid next to nothing, the art agency paid great but the owner hadn't heard of the emancipation of all people and we spent much of our time doing his pro-bono work. As often happens, one thing lead to another and I got a call from a theatre in OKC that was looking for a scenic artist and carpenter 60+ hours a week. So I took the job, went from $1,800 a month to $700 a month (this was in 1978 $$) and met a girl, who just happened to own a sailboat.
End of Part I