Bubba's Boat Diaries (Installment 1)

So, those what know me know I took a 2 week vacation this year with my favorite girl in the whole world (aka my wife).  The vacation was nothing short of fantastic and there are many Facebook photos posted to share.  What has been unknown to this point was a hand written journal that will be shared in a few installments here.  Journal is written with horrible composition skills...alternating between 1st and 3rd person narratives, depending on the mood of the day.  I made it a point to record in the journal every morning with coffee and conversation with whoever else was up, usually Captain Dave, first mate Deb (his wife), and occasionally others.  Position reports are wherever we happened to be moored or anchored at the time the journal entry was made.

The wife and I were the Southern Youth Contingent on this voyage.  Save for one other traveler, we were the babies of the trip at sub 5 decades of age. Given we were the Southerners, and that wife often refers to me as Bubba, I borrowed this nickname + a nickname for the wife from the comedian T Bubba Bechtol...who refers to his beloved as Bubbalicious.  It just seemed appropriate for this trip.

I wish to publish said journals here.  Most will find it boring, some may find it mildly entertaining, but here goes, transcribed from handwritten notes beginning on USAir flight 1560 from Charlotte to Princess Juliana Airport, Sint Marteen, on 10/29/12. But, if you have read this far, why stop now?

10/29/12

Just sit right back and hear a tale
A tale of a little boat trip
That started from St Martin port
Aboard a sailing ship
A bunch of Yankee sailing crew
Except of course for 2
Set sail one day on a 8 day tour

If you hear a tune in your head it shows your age.  See blog Funk 49.

Well, being one of 2 Southerners somebody had to be Bubba.  Guess I win by defualt.  With accolades and credit to T Bubba Bechtol (comedian), Princess has to be Bubbalicious.  

After a long delay on the ground in Charlotte, we are at last on our way.  Clouds broke near Columbia and could see the home town Columbia Metro, downtown, and Williams Brice stadium.  Still a bit turbulent and writing messy.

Time out for now.  By George, I think it is 5 o'clock somewhere (despite that my watch says 1145).  More later. 
.....

Landed over the famous beach at St. Martin.  But, due to our late arrival could not work out a visit.  Thank you Hurricane Sandy [BITCH].
....

Luggage loaded and taxi driver Miguel managed to deliver us to base safely despite all efforts to not do so.  Bubba and the others tipped him, not for tradition, but for not running into any other cars, people, buildings, children, construction equipment, or rolling us off the mountain.

The rest of the afternoon spent unpacking & stocking our ship (Cutter Cat).  Our companion ship is the Muscade, led by Captain Bruce Reheer.  Putting away food & clothes so that things don't shift when underway was not hard but there are 8 of us and it took some time.  Our captain Dave Garland gave us a working tour of our ship:  latching doors, water, toilets, showers, etc.  Having never been on a ship like this, Bubba had much to learn.

Our berth is not as big as the wide lens promo pics but has plenty of storage and the bed is a bit bigger than a queen and works well...though we have to slide on/off from the rear.  Operation of the toilets at night alerts everyone, pumps make some noise.  Bubba's regular night toilet visits go without a flush.

The long delay mentioned in the journal was courtesy of an air traffic control outage at the air route control centers in the Northeast, courtesy of Hurricane Sandy (Bitch).  We boarded and taxied out, only to be detained on the aircraft for nearly 90 minutes.  

The working tour of the ship by Captain Dave was more important than the journal implies.  Making certain doors and all loose items are properly secured is important, otherwise the cabin will get torn apart by slamming doors and items slamming around from the motion of the ocean waves.  Within a day or so, our crew could secure the vessel for voyage in a matter of minutes, everyone took responsibility for their berths, and we divvied up other above deck tasks under direction of Captain Dave. 

10/30/12

A really nice albeit humid morning.  Bubblicious and Bubba are first up but not smart enough to work the coffee percolator.  Captains and probably Reese go to chart briefing at 0900.  We will take on some water and ice, then, hopefully be under way by lunch.

We plan to go to Orient Bay on the French side.  Should be 3 hour or so sailing time depending on the breeze.  Word on the street is Bubba may not have to wear clothes.  Could be a way to have beach alone by scaring everyone away.

We were still at base when the above was written.  The captains were required to attend chart briefing before allowed to take vessels from base.   We were able to set sail around 1300 or so this day.  We purposely took the boats out to sea a bit so the crew could learn some sailing skills.  It was nice to get away from base and into the breeze as the humidity at base dock was vicious. 

10/31/12  (18.06.24 N / 63.01.06 W) Orient Bay St Martin

https://maps.google.com/maps?q=%2B18%C2%B0+06%27+24.00%22,+-63%C2%B0+01%27+06.00%22&hl=en&ie=UTF8&ll=18.106575,-63.021097&spn=0.010952,0.021136&sll=38.573333,-109.549167&sspn=0.072069,0.169086&t=k&z=16 

 Some sail practice on Monday--Bubba and Rhett had some things to learn as Reese and (obviously) Captain Dave know what is going on.  Work, but fun work.  Once wind is captured and optimal, an auto pilot device keeps the genoa sail optimized for wind capture.  Seas were more rolling than expected but not nauseating at all.  Having said thus, going below deck with no a/c and that gentle rolling action did challenge Bubba a bit.  Bubbalicious put on a sea sick patch for precautionary reasons.

After tooling around a bit we land at Orient Bay across from Yellow Beach on Pinel Island.  Vessel secured, we load up dingy now officially named Cutter Kitty.  Cutter Kitty takes us to snorkeling trail near Yellow Beach.  Snorkeling OK but water not as clear as trip to Cayman....thank you Hurricane Sandy (Bitch).  Kitty is a bit difficult for Bubba to enter from the water but strong arms of friends keep Bubba from having to swim back to ship.

Bubbalicious did not become freinds with all the jelly fish.  Bubba was not a big fan either.  Some pretty cool coral formations, lots of angel fish, and various sized needle fish all over the place.  A few large conch shells were on the bottom but Bubba did not make the 8 foot or so dive to retrieve.

After snorkeling some down time on Yellow Beach.  We went there after letting all the cruise ship and motel tourists vacate the place for the most part.  A few families remained but for the most part the beach belonged to our crew.  The restaurant was keeping lobsters in cages just under the water, some big ass creatures.  Lobsters in this part of the world have no claws and can be quite large.  They can be grabbed while snorkeling, not that Bubba would do that.

Cutter Kitty returns us to shop for (much needed) showers, clean clothes, rum drinks, appetizers, and steak dinner.  Bubba tried his black strap rum & coke first, before switching to pain killers with the rest of the crew.  Appetizers & dinner made for full tummies, preventing alcohol from causing true Bubba to escape.

In the darkness on the trampoline, the boat moored in front of us had lights in the water below the catamarans.  The lights attracted fish which put on quite a show of eat or be eaten.  Bubba ended up laying on the tram enjoying a cool ocean breeze, staring at a full moon sky and unbelievably beautiful stars.

Bubba fell asleep on the tram and would have remained so had not Deb roused him.  Bubba retired to his berth with Bubbalicious already soundly dozing.  It was nice listening to the waves lapping under the ship, gently rocking us to sleep.  At the mooring ball, the ship rocks lightly like a hammock, making for some very restful sleep that Bubbalicious still enjoys as I write this.

Are we old?  All of the evening described above was over by 2200 hours!!  that 5th decade must be approaching sooner than expected.

Destination plan for 10-31 = St. Barts.  Expecting a good 3 hour or so sail with favorable winds and gentle seas.  Captain Dave says our travel should be "with the waves" based on current wind forecasts.

End of installment 1.

To All You Mothers Out There...Happy Father's Day

As a youngster, at the the boat drag races at Carolina Marina on Belews Lake, the announcer started the races on Father's Day weekend with the title of this post.  However, it was more of a crudity "...to all you muthas out there" on that day long ago.

There will be a kazillion blog posts, facebook posts, and pulpit diatribes spewed forth Father's Day in honor of Fathers everywhere.   I have a different take.

I heard a comic routine this week that informed the audience that we should respect and love women.  Women, the comic stated, have a Full Reproductive Set installed.  Men, however, possess only a Starter Kit. Underlying all humor is some basis in truth.  This one no different.

Unfortunately in our current culture, there are way too many males that have done nothing other than use the Starter Kit and move on.  The choice of the word male in the last sentence is important.  Most any male can initiate further propagation of our species.  These males are nothing but sperm donors, not Men, not Fathers.

Real Men become Fathers, taking responsibility for the life they helped start, hopefully building a loving relationship with the Women that bear and bring forth the children.  Even in those unfortunate situations where marriage fails and/or a loving home are not present, Men can still be Fathers, taking responsibility for the nurture and love of the children created with said Starter Kit.

The opportunity presented to me 23 years ago this past weekend.  A second opp followed 4 years 4 months later.  My Princess birthed the greatest blessings ever in my life, our daughters.  I consider myself a Father.  Maybe not the perfect example, far removed from the best example, but I have a great marriage and 2 of the most wonderful daughters ever...if not the the best (accept my prejudice here). 

Without our ladies, there would be no Fathers.  If you fit the description of Starter Kit Sperm Donor, I encourage you to look within your soul for the strength to become a Father.  Accepting that a relationship may not be possible with the mother of your children, try.  At the least, civility, cooperation, and understanding. Try. 

We would not have the opportunity to be Fathers without Mothers.  I am humble that my wife chose to carry my daughters to life in our world.  For those that understand all this...

To All You Mothers Out There...Happy Father's Day!!!  (and THANK YOU for what you have given us).

Welcome Home!!

A few weeks ago, I posted a blog essay I named Standing Tall, about a young United States Marine I have never met.  A thin connection to my childhood neighbor and his family was and is the link.  For reasons I cannot explain, I remain moved by his story.

Some digression, perhaps intermingled with thoughts from that earlier post.

I still struggle to grasp the volunteer nature of the service these men and women provide to me, my family, you the reader, your family, and our country and society as a whole.  Previous wars and conflicts sometimes involved compulsory draft service.  Yet, we know even in draft situations there were many that volunteered, some even lying about their age to do so (like in World War 2), putting themselves in harm's way so some fat slob like me can type on a laptop in peace and security.  The draft ended years ago, yet, our country still meets recruitment goals and then some...with an active war zone in place.  

In fairness, give credit here to those non military men and women like police and fire fighters compromising their personal safety in public service to us daily.  It is not just our Military.  Very close to my local geography, 2 police officers were recently killed in the line of duty in a very short period of time.  Even a police dog gave the ultimate sacrifice during this period!! 

War zone or protecting a neighborhood, the ultimate sacrifice IS the ultimate sacrifice.

That can never be taken back.

And they volunteer for this?

The wounds and maimings of such service often cannot be taken back either.  At places like Walter Reed, the best healers and researchers continue exploring and implementing ways to heal and provide prosthesis to our many wounded warriors.  The United States Marine I wrote about a few weeks ago is wrapped in the care of such a place.  More so, this Marine is wrapped in the love of his young wife, family, and who knows how many layers of prayer?  (From the postings, it is A LOT of prayer. Me included).

By now if the reader wonders regarding these musings, through the miracle (curse?) of Facebook, I can report this Marine is Home.  From the Facebook post inspiring this blog:

"We have come so far in such a short month. All the doctors are in shock at how fast...is healing and how independent he already is. They call the date of your injury your "Alive Day" around here, and at first I thought that was ridiculous. But one month ago today...fought to stay alive, he fought to come home to me, and he got a second chance at life."

Obviously for reasons of privacy names are removed.  Yet, the story could be generic repetitive of the many volunteer soldiers that avoided the ultimate sacrifice....getting an "ALIVE DAY" to come home, in pieces, like the inspiration for this essay, but, alive and home.

Continue to thank Those that serve us, pray for them, help when you can, by the means you can.  

We civilians can never repay this debt.  But, try!

Numbering of Days

Our local paper randomly publishes articles from a blog by Rabbi Marc Wilson from Greenville, SC.  This weekend's publish from the Rabbi was actually from a blog he posted back in February.  I linked to it on my Facebook page earlier but few hits from the stalkers out there.  People are moved by different things I suppose.

http://marcmusing.blogspot.com/2012/02/teach-us-to-number-our-days.html?spref=fb

Assuming the link works, if you read this, you can read Rabbi Marc Wilson's post as background.  The Rabbi was moved observing Alzheimer's patients while visiting hospice for his mother in law.  Unfortunately, he worries that he may also face an Alzheimer future, given occurrences already in his immediate family.

From the Rabbi Wilson's post:

"Call me narcissistic, but having passed midlife, I do not so much think instinctively of the grief I might suffer at the illness of others. Instead, I have found myself increasingly contemplating how my own possible appointment with Alzheimer's might look. After all, my father and two grandfathers were senile by age 70, just a scant eight years away."

Alzheimer's is not even on my radar screen right now (knock on wood).  Yet, the Rabbi's blog still speaks to me in as the lead digit of my age changes to 5 less than 300 days from this post.  

What is the deal?  I remember graduating high school and college, now, I gaze in astonishment at the most wondrous things ever given me, my daughters, one already out of college and one graduating high school this year.  It just does not seem that it was over 30 years ago Princess and I walked out of WGHS stadium as graduates, but, time marches on and here we are.  Too many memories to list.  Some good, some not so good, some proud moments, and yes some wishing there were such things as a "do over."  Nothing unique here, I am no different than anyone else in this regard.  Being human I suppose.

Yet, here I am staring at this upcoming digit change, remembering parents, in-laws, friends, acquaintances transitioning to five oh over the years.  My Dad died at the ripe young age of 59, the anniversary of his death just a few weeks ago.  He died on a leap year so every 4 years or so the anniversary of his death is more noticeable to me.  My great friend's Dad also died suddenly sub-60 also.  Now, I stare five oh in the face and wonder what the next 9 years will bring me.  Or, will there be another 9 years?  Things look much different when one crests this life summit and looks at the other half of our finite existence.

Quoting again from Rabbi Wilson:

"I know what you will tell me: Cherish my days and use them wisely, you would admonish me. Show love and share wisdom before it is too late. Try not to contemplate eventualities over which you have no control. Look positively toward the future. And, of course, you would be right."

I have to agree wholeheartedly with the Rabbi at this point.

I was taught that a good essay should have great intro, valid and succinct arguments, and a great closing.  An intro I have here, but, no arguments, only commentary and questions.  There is no closing, this post purposely left open ended because I know not what tomorrow brings.  Nobody does, except Him.

Hopefully, more than 9 years of sand remain in God's hourglass for Lemmy. Trying to make the best of whatever does remain in the hourglass...taking the advice of Rabbi Wilson.

Standing Tall

I have been on Facebook more often this past week.  Like so many others, I reconnected with various college, high school and childhood friends through the Facebook medium.   My next door neighbor growing up is one of those people.  We we ran with different friends in high school, attended different colleges, both moving on with our lives.  I have only seen him in person at high school reunions.  Still, it has been kind of cool to see the Facebook updates of his life, along with the lives of other acquaintances from the past.  

Until this week.

This past week, my childhood friend and neighbor posted something that I have struggled to shake off.   The husband of his niece (daughter of his older sister), a United States Marine, lost his legs to an IED in Afghanistan.  This Marine made the journey to Walter Reed this week and as I compose this blog, there have been on other updates.  But I know that prayers of support for this young Marine's wife, family, transporters, doctors (this list is endless) fill a cup overflowing. And I know that our doctors and therapists at Walter Reed will provide this Marine with world class care and rehabilitation.

I do not know this Marine, his wife, or anything other than his relation to my childhood neighbor.  Yet, something says it is not anonymous, and I do not yet understand why so.  These young men and women volunteer for duty in our armed forces.  Volunteering in a time of conflict, with desire to tour the front lines, is something Lemmy's self preservation brain fails to grasp.  Yet, these men and women do volunteer, and continue to volunteer.  Because they volunteer, we live our daily stateside lives without fear of attack...there will be no IED encounter on my way to work tomorrow....or yours, or your neighbors. 

Saying "thank you for your service" while it is right, just does not seem like enough any more.  Frankly, I am not sure what does just yet.  Something I will ponder for some time.

Like thousands of other US soldiers, this Marine has given something to our country, our safety, and our way of life, that we can never give back.  

Like so many Soldiers and Guardsman that have returned (and unfortunately, continue returning) from Iraq and Afghanistan, this young Marine, now with no legs, stands tall.

Taller than I will ever be able to stand.

Just Numbers?

Playing around with the date & time functions in Excel this morning because I am a weirdo and should have better things to do. 


Three hundred and thirty eight, as in 338, the number of days to the 50 yard stick for your author!

Another discovery, Princess crosses the 50 yard line 49 days ahead of yours truly in 2012.  Remotely amusing, but fun.


Two hundred eighty three, as in 283, the number of days from today to Election Day 2012.  It can't get here fast enough, not just as we choose leadership for the next 4 years, but also put an end to the economic uncertainties that plague so many election years just like this one.  I dread the finalization of the two main candidates, for, from that point forward, the vitriol and divisiveness will likely only intensify.  Both the O-man and whoever becomes the Republican nominee would do well to read a book I just finished called Humilitas (by John Dickson).  I am certainly not holding my breath for that one.


Eighteen thousand, two hundred and sixty two, as in 18,262.

18,262 is the number of days my father in law and mother in law have been married as of today, January 28, 2012.  The family gathered in a surprise visit last weekend in celebration and honor of their 50th wedding anniversary.  Marriages lasting 50 years unfortunately are an endangered species in our current society, which saddens me.  It was a time of joy and enjoyment for all the family in attendance.  We wish them many more years of happiness.

This number silliness could go on for hours, but will at here cease.  A Lemmy's World reminder that all our days are numbered, our time in this corporeal existence is finite.  Waste not a day, regardless of the number.

Naked New Year

The wife will love that intro!

We enter this world naked, covered with various embryonic fluids and various organic gunk.  Most of us likely were terrified, forcibly squeezed from the warm dark comfort of our mother's womb through an incredibly tight space.  Or, the dark comfort of our mother's womb was opened from above while some OB GYN yanked us from this peaceful place.  Either way, naked and coated as described, we get cleaned up and handed off to our parent or parents to face this life.

A New Year is sort of like a new birth.  Starting naked and covered in gunk, we have to clean it up, raise it, and shape it into our lives.  The traditional "resolutions" are made by many. I even have some myself.  Some words of encouragement as you make plans to meet your goals set in resolution for this Naked New Year:

1.  This quote was in today's comic strip The Family Circus, spoken by the character Dolly:  "Yesterday's the past, Tomorrow's the future, but Today's a gift.  That's why it's called the present."

2.   Selections from the Al-Anon credo:  

JUST FOR TODAY:  I will live through this day only.  I will not brood about yesterday or obsess about tomorrow.  I will not set far reaching goals or try to overcome all of my problems at once.  I know that I can do something for 24 hours that would overwhelm me if I had to keep it up for a lifetime.

JUST FOR TODAY:  I will refrain from improving anybody but myself.

I wish all readers the best of luck with whatever changes you have decided to make in this Naked New Year--2012.  Wash off the gunk, stand up, face it!