Showing posts with label Tarta 42. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tarta 42. Show all posts

Friday, June 12, 2015

Anyone who sniffs...


...at Love at First sight has clearly never been a grandparent. On Tuesday afternoon we backtracked to Indy to meet the newest member of our expanding tribe. As we walked in the door Daughter Eldest surrendered little Sophia into my grasp. After a quick glance with her killer gray eyes she snuggled against my shoulder and fell promptly to sleep. At 10 days old that is one third of her repertoire, eating and filling diapers being the remainder. I was instantly smitten and quite pleased that she was happy with me holding her for many, many hours over the next couple of days.

When not on baby duty there were additional hours spent with my two missing shipmates from last summer in Florida, grandsons Christopher and Julian. Christopher now puts his woodworking skills to use helping his Papa build frames for a growing body of extraordinary artwork. Julian spent much of the weekend correcting my nickname for him, “I'm NOT J-J!

Daughter Eldest and Son-in-Law are both serious, talented, artists. Daughter is working on a unique poetry that infuses two languages while creating a form of writing that invokes musical overtones. It is a daunting and daring voyage of the mind, one that has already taken her far beyond any place I could have imagined. She has imagined it for us, and her words can point the way for those of us less gifted. Tomorrow, new baby in arms, she is heading for a conference in Ohio where some of the brightest lights of her discipline have invited her to a workshop.

Son-in-Law is pushing at the very edge of painting / sculpture in a form I have never seen anyone else use. It is quite amazing and more than a little haunting, connecting with the thoughts that lie at the edge of the shadows waiting to be explored in the collective mind of human kind. There is no such a thing as empty, shallow conversation in their house.

They are raising three kids while defying a society that has rejected art, education, and wisdom as things less important than profit, ideology, and war. Yet the former are the very things that both make, and can salvage, our humanity. Daughter and Son-in-Law are deeply involved in what remains of the tattered traditions of academic and intelligentsia that once led this nation to the leading edge of history. That such a remnent survives in our culture gives me hope that all is not lost. A spark of progress still lies within these borders; the darkness has yet to completely overwhelming the future. Maybe, as the next few years roll by, the view from my little boat floating offshore will be one of renewal rather than failure.

Saying good-by was tough. Sophia may well be walking the next time I see her, and J-J will probably not be J-J. It isn't getting any easier, but I am getting better at putting up a good front. Most of the tears had dried before we got to the IL border. By the time we got back to Daughter Middle's home full of the laughter and love that comes with a family of five grand kids, all was well in my world.

Very well indeed.

Friday, January 9, 2015

To the brink and back

It's been pretty quiet here on The Retirement Project at a time when it should have been bustling with news of final boat projects and waiting on weather windows to cross to the Bahamas. So in case you've been missing us, we've been busy, just not with Kintala.

A month ago we arrived at the airport in St. Louis for what we thought was going to be a two week visit with grand babies. Since St. Louis is sort of our home base and our daughter does our mail and banking, we've kept our doctors here. So the day after we arrived I trudged off to St. Luke's Hospital to have my routine mammogram. Only it wasn't. Routine, that is. Hiding amongst my normal breast tissue was a small lesion. While the radiologist said that there was a good chance it was benign, he wanted to be sure. Me too.

After explaining to the radiologist that I live on a boat and that I was getting ready to head to the Bahamas where medical care was likely to be scarce, he made a few phone calls and was able to get me in immediately for a biopsy. I had the biopsy and waited the four days for the results. They were inconclusive, which meant a more detailed biopsy under general anesthesia in surgery. Wednesday was a very long day of prep and outpatient surgery. And waiting. More waiting. Today I got the phone call with the news that I wanted to hear. The lesion was benign and I'm clear to go back to the boat.

Living on a boat has done many things for us, but maybe the most profound thing I've learned is that any illusion we have that we control our lives is just that, an illusion. Every day you live on a boat you realize that Mother Nature rules. She rules our environment, she rules our bodies, and learning to live in harmony with her is paramount to happiness. So as we regale you with our "plans", remember that they are as fragile as the shoreline in a hurricane. We make them because we need some frame of reference for our forward movement, but the reality of it is that very few of our plans have actually come to pass since we left to go full time cruising. Being flexible, fluid, and adaptable is the only way to flourish in this lifestyle.

Thursday we hop on a plane to return to Miami to finish our last few projects and catch a weather window to the Islands for what we hope is finally, finally a break. If Mother Nature agrees.