Port and Starboard

We've been together an incredibly long time.  38 years to be exact, and considering that the 38 years began at age 15 I figure it qualifies as nothing short of amazing, so it's not often that I have any marital epiphanies or even minor "Ah haaaa" moments since by now, most of those moments have already been penned into the marriage almanac of Tim and Deb. On occasion, though, usually when I'm not paying the least attention,  I stumble on some wonderful little piece of insight and then promptly wonder why it is that it took me so long to see what was blatantly obvious in the first place.

So it was two weekends ago.  Tim is always ready to dive right into any challenge, fully confident in his ability to accomplish the task.  I,on the other hand am...well...not.  He has been pestering to sail into the slip for some time now, routinely discouraged by...well...me, the always-worried-about-what-could-happen first officer.  Frustration inevitably ensues, him because he can't do what he wants without my help to do it, and me because I realize I'm holding him back out of fear.  Two weekends ago we headed for Coles Creek to do some swimming and relieve the oppressing heat,  and since it wasn't very windy and there weren't many boats we decided to try to sail into the cove and anchor without ever turning the engine on.  Not only did we do it once Saturday, but we did it again Sunday and then even sailed off the anchor when we left.

While sailing wing-on-wing back to the marina I was pondering this latest development, trying to figure out what had made it different, why I was comfortable with it , and why we were ultimately successful.  I realized that the difference lay in planning.  Before we headed into the cove we talked for a while about what would happen, how we would do it, and what we would do if things went wrong.  Before we left, we ran down the same list, each step clear in my mind.  OK so some of you might think this is painfully obvious, but in reality small lake sailing is pretty laid back and seldom requires the need for this much advance planning.  We did it though, and the end result was an incredibly satisfying feeling of a job well done.

My reflections on the day left me with a list of good lessons for the ocean, someday soon I hope:

1. Planning may mean different things to different people and the planning must be done to every crew member's satisfaction.  That being said, I need to not plan things to death and relax a little.
2. Confidence is built a little at a time by taking a risk here and there and finding that you really are capable.
3. Communication, clear and abundant, is a good thing on a boat.

And the last surprising conclusion?  I need to swear off NPR because the news is only leaving me with the constant companion of worry that seems to be permeating into my weekends.