Wednesday 21 October
My dad almost never gets angry. I said this to someone once and the other person said, 'What does he have to get angry about, with his money.' That was very impolitic and I was offended. I do not think money has much to do with it at all. For one thing, many people with money are greedy and want more. My dad would probably rather get rid of some (and he does, to charity, but I won't go into that now). It's just that he has a positive mental attitude about most things. And if that's connected to money at all, it's that a positive mental attitude leads to money and not that money leads to a positive mental attitude, if you know what I mean.
Even so, I have seen him get mad a few times. Well-- more than a few times. He tends to become frustrated and irritated about injustices-- especially when they're directed at us or other she loves. He doesn't seem to care about other people's opinions or actions against himself. He says, 'Consider the source' --you know, because my dad is not an idiot and anyone who would think my dad is an idiot would be an idiot. An idiot's point of view is not worth considering. But he becomes simply warriorlike when something threatens his family or our happiness. I remember at our old house in Lewes when he woke up in the middle of the night and fired a live round out of the musket at two burglars who were creeping through the front yard to the house and then chased them round into the preserve and back along the beach with two Queen Anne black-powder pistols. One got away and one ended up in the pool, where he held him till the police came. And he pressed charges for 'trespass with criminal intent.' When I was in 5th grade the teacher assigned a paper on heroes and I wrote about Jesus, quoting all these miracles and unconditional love and the teacher said 'That's not what I had in mind' --and made me write another paper. Mother (our new stepmother then) marched in to school and insisted this was prejudicial and unfair and when the school administrators refused to take a 20-year-old stepmother seriously Daddy went in and read them a riot act. After all Mother had legally adopted us-- we were her children by then too. The result was that Mother dared the school to let her withdraw us and teach us at home, and when the school again suggested she was not capable of that, Daddy marched in and signed us out in one afternoon. We then were taught at home (by Mother) till we went off to England three years ago now.
The thing about my daddy is that when he says he's going to do something about it, he does-- and if you don't believe he will, you should watch him whilst he does it.
And of course I have seen him throw a hammer or a hatchet and over-rev the yard tractor and utter a few choice words and rant on about some awful politician. He was trying to hit a particularly nasty raccoon once at the house at Delaware and out of frustration fired the musket off at a tree, and the ball snapped the limb off about 15 feet off the ground which then landed on the fence and about 10 feet of it had to be replaced. And of course this made him madder-- I won't say what happened then (although the raccoon went on to live a long happy life, probably snickering every time he came back to the vegetable garden).
But at least once his frustration was exciting, even fun. This past summer we were out in the ski boat, just Daddy, Jessy and I, on Barnegat Bay. Daddy was taking us over to Tuckerton for lunch at Stewart's Root Beer stand. We were both in bikinis and Daddy was in some wild multicoloured shirt like something from the 50s. I was sitting in front and Jessy was half-lying across the back seat, right in front of the motor that made it hard to really hold any kind of conversation. I know it looked like my dad was some super-cool older guy with two cute chicks in swimsuits with him-- this is one thing we like to lend him and he's always happy to hang out with us like this. Anyway we were in the middle of the channel about halfway there, doing, I would say, about 35, when some fishermen in a 19-ft Whaler kind of pulled up along side. They only had us by about 5 MPH or so and it was not a big deal-- not every other boat out there has to be in a race, you know. But we were closing on a marker and the guy in the other boat didn't know that passing on the right, approaching a marker, means he has to either get in well ahead of us or go round behind us ('duck' us as it's called in sailboat racing). This guy figured he was important enough to cut in close and show us who really owns the bay.
Well, this set off Daddy, because of the principle of the thing. The Whaler cut in, much too close for comfort, about 20 yards at 35 MPH. Daddy snarled. I heard it. 'Idiot,' he said, and then pushed down the throttle. On the Sidewinder he had moved the front seats closer together and the throttle is actually on the left of the driving seat, down near the floor, so I could see it. He put it right down with his knuckles on the carpet. The big Buick engine roared up, the bow lifted, and Daddy swung it out to the left to pass him-- in the proper side of course.
The guys in the Whaler cheered, like they were happy to have a race. At once the guy driving it cut over in front of us-- where they should have been if they had been alone in the channel, but if someone is overtaking you the rule is that you hold course and speed-- not move over in front of him and speed up. So, it was a race.
The Whaler had a new outboard on it, and it was fast, but nothing beats the ski boat. We were up to 55 in about 5 seconds. I held on. Jessy squealed back there. The Whaler was no longer holding with us, but of course Daddy wouldn't let it stand with just a victory in name only. We were still accelerating-- 60, 65. Trimmed out flat, we were doing about 72 by the time he lifted the throttle a little. It was pretty scary up till then, but finally I laughed. I knew what he was doing. Of course we were in the proper lane of channel traffic and still obeying all the rules-- out in the middle of the Bay there are theoretically no speed limits. Daddy held it over 60 all the way in to the Tuckerton turnoff. Finally when we were idling up the long meandering back channel to Stewart's he said, not too loudly (because from a motorboat everyone else can hear everything), 'Sorry. I just got mad at him.'
We both giggled. 'We know,' I said.
'I just figured he kind of deserved that,' Daddy said.
Jessy leaned forward then, kneeling on the floor behind the two front seats. 'Can you get mad again like that on the way home, Daddy?'
I don't think any root-beer floats Stewart's could have had could have made that afternoon any better than that.
...
Showing posts with label boat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label boat. Show all posts
23 October 2009
24 March 2009
'To wardrobe' = a verb meaning to use anything you already have in a creative way.
Tuesday evening, 24 March 2009
Lisa is upset. Well, wait-- I must go back.
This past weekend, Daddy drove the 1961 Buick up to New Jersey, where he keeps his cars, and brought back the 1965 convertible. The 1965 convertible is just like the one he had back in the '70s when the band was first starting out, and in that time the big blue Buick was a common sight up and down the Island. Much later in life he located another one and had it rebuilt to copy the first one. It is a metallic light blue with white lower panels, white upholstery, and a white hood (top). There are bucket seats and the manual gearchange is in the console and it has chrome wheels and lettered tyres. And it's big-- really big, the way they haven't made cars for 30 years.
Of course when he first got the jet boat back in about 1978 he had it painted to match the 1965 convertible, in the same metallic blue with a white bottom and a white flames design on the deck. So, if you are following this, you can conclude that my daddy had gone to get the 1965 convertible this weekend for a reason. On Monday morning he drove Jessy and me to school in it and then disappeared 'on an errand', but I had him figured out by the end of the school day when he came to collect us... and yes, there was a trailer-towing ball beneath the back bumper of the 1965 convertible. How did I guess? --now that he has the original boat back, he would ensure that the car truly matches the one he once had, for 30 years ago he used to tow the Buick-powered jet boat with the 1965 Buick convertible he had then. I giggled till it embarrassed him. But this is what we love about our daddy. His optimism and sentimentality have got us through some very trying times, and there isn't one of us who would ever want him to change a single bit.
Over dinner last night he announced that, with the weather improving so dramatically, he was looking forward to commemorating the start of the season by towing the jet boat with the 1965 convertible over the Ferry and up the Parkway to the beach house where we will use the boat this summer. When he gets excited like this there's no stopping him. So we all discussed who would ride in which car (for of course someone has to take pictures!) and what we would all wear for the commemorative start-of-the-season event. Since I already have a red-and-white polkadot swimsuit that matches the softball team's jerseys I decided I would find one in the same blue as the car and the boat, hopefully with a complimentary white in it too. Little Lisa said she wanted the same thing; but that was just a ruse to get to go shopping with Jessy and me because, as Mother said, Lisa already has a white one-piece that would do just fine, especially if we are in blue. Lisa is a little too little for a two-piece anyway. (I never understood that-- and never wore a two-piece myself till I was old enough to... fit one. What is the point of a 5-year-old in a bikini?)
This morning I was saying good-bye to little Lisa (which really means we were hugging the stuffing out of each other) and we looked up as Jessy descended to the front hall. My mouth dropped open, and then I started to laugh. After all, we already knew Jessy already had the perfect swimsuit to wear when Daddy takes us out on the speedboat. It's a traditional Speedo racing one-piece in the very same light blue as the car and the boat... and THIS is what she wore to school today, as a shiny light blue leotard under her little tan cotton ruffle skirt and a white shirt with the tails tied round her middle, with opaque white tights and her tan round-toed pumps. This is my sister! --wearing a swimsuit to high school! --and it was superb and yet tasteful in every way.
Mother was impressed. 'You look... cute,' she finally pronounced.
Jessy shrugged, with a cute toss of her head (and those natural curls never fall out, unless of course she lets them fall out, and either way she's stunning-- grrr). I giggled. Lisa did too, mainly because I did, and then she said, 'Is that your bathing suit?'
Jessy shrugged again. 'People wear leotards under other stuff,' she said. We know. She has. I suppose we all have-- even Mother.
'It's brilliant,' I said to her.
'Mummy!' Lisa raved excitedly then, even as Jessy and I were kissing her good-bye. 'Can I wear mine too? The white one you said I have? Can I wear it too--' now she was looking at Jessy-- 'with my little brown skirt, and a shirt tied like that... and I could wear my good church shoes-- And did I get my white tights for Easter yet? Mummy!'
Lisa is still upset over it.
...
Lisa is upset. Well, wait-- I must go back.
This past weekend, Daddy drove the 1961 Buick up to New Jersey, where he keeps his cars, and brought back the 1965 convertible. The 1965 convertible is just like the one he had back in the '70s when the band was first starting out, and in that time the big blue Buick was a common sight up and down the Island. Much later in life he located another one and had it rebuilt to copy the first one. It is a metallic light blue with white lower panels, white upholstery, and a white hood (top). There are bucket seats and the manual gearchange is in the console and it has chrome wheels and lettered tyres. And it's big-- really big, the way they haven't made cars for 30 years.
Of course when he first got the jet boat back in about 1978 he had it painted to match the 1965 convertible, in the same metallic blue with a white bottom and a white flames design on the deck. So, if you are following this, you can conclude that my daddy had gone to get the 1965 convertible this weekend for a reason. On Monday morning he drove Jessy and me to school in it and then disappeared 'on an errand', but I had him figured out by the end of the school day when he came to collect us... and yes, there was a trailer-towing ball beneath the back bumper of the 1965 convertible. How did I guess? --now that he has the original boat back, he would ensure that the car truly matches the one he once had, for 30 years ago he used to tow the Buick-powered jet boat with the 1965 Buick convertible he had then. I giggled till it embarrassed him. But this is what we love about our daddy. His optimism and sentimentality have got us through some very trying times, and there isn't one of us who would ever want him to change a single bit.
Over dinner last night he announced that, with the weather improving so dramatically, he was looking forward to commemorating the start of the season by towing the jet boat with the 1965 convertible over the Ferry and up the Parkway to the beach house where we will use the boat this summer. When he gets excited like this there's no stopping him. So we all discussed who would ride in which car (for of course someone has to take pictures!) and what we would all wear for the commemorative start-of-the-season event. Since I already have a red-and-white polkadot swimsuit that matches the softball team's jerseys I decided I would find one in the same blue as the car and the boat, hopefully with a complimentary white in it too. Little Lisa said she wanted the same thing; but that was just a ruse to get to go shopping with Jessy and me because, as Mother said, Lisa already has a white one-piece that would do just fine, especially if we are in blue. Lisa is a little too little for a two-piece anyway. (I never understood that-- and never wore a two-piece myself till I was old enough to... fit one. What is the point of a 5-year-old in a bikini?)
This morning I was saying good-bye to little Lisa (which really means we were hugging the stuffing out of each other) and we looked up as Jessy descended to the front hall. My mouth dropped open, and then I started to laugh. After all, we already knew Jessy already had the perfect swimsuit to wear when Daddy takes us out on the speedboat. It's a traditional Speedo racing one-piece in the very same light blue as the car and the boat... and THIS is what she wore to school today, as a shiny light blue leotard under her little tan cotton ruffle skirt and a white shirt with the tails tied round her middle, with opaque white tights and her tan round-toed pumps. This is my sister! --wearing a swimsuit to high school! --and it was superb and yet tasteful in every way.
Mother was impressed. 'You look... cute,' she finally pronounced.
Jessy shrugged, with a cute toss of her head (and those natural curls never fall out, unless of course she lets them fall out, and either way she's stunning-- grrr). I giggled. Lisa did too, mainly because I did, and then she said, 'Is that your bathing suit?'
Jessy shrugged again. 'People wear leotards under other stuff,' she said. We know. She has. I suppose we all have-- even Mother.
'It's brilliant,' I said to her.
'Mummy!' Lisa raved excitedly then, even as Jessy and I were kissing her good-bye. 'Can I wear mine too? The white one you said I have? Can I wear it too--' now she was looking at Jessy-- 'with my little brown skirt, and a shirt tied like that... and I could wear my good church shoes-- And did I get my white tights for Easter yet? Mummy!'
Lisa is still upset over it.
...
07 January 2009
How Daddy got his boat back
Tuesday 6 January 2009
This afternoon Roger, our driver, pulled in to the yard with his classic Chevy Suburban towing a trailer with a faded blue-and-white speedboat on it. It was one of the few times I have ever heard my father scream spontaneously. I had been feeling under the weather and had said I would lie down but I ended up reading and so I heard him cry out down stairs. And naturally I-- as well as everyone else-- ran down to see what had excited him.
The boat is a 1976 Sidewinder fibreglass speedboat, 18 feet long, metallic silver blue (same colour as my car) with a white flame design on the front, with bucket seats in the middle and a bench seat across the back in white upholstery and a big engine in the back with a water-jet drive behind it. My dad got it in about 1979 after they had made a few hit records and the previous owner had blown up the motor (it happens). At that time he had a big convertible Buick and decided to put a Buick engine into the boat. He used it often on Barnegat Bay till that fateful year... and after his fiancee died and he left the country for a while the boat sat forlorn and forgotten on a trailer at the band's beach house till the band was dissolved and so many important things were being considered that really made the boat seem unimportant. By the time he got back from London the beach house had been sold with a lot of other stuff, including the boat and its trailer. Daddy went on with his life, met Mommy, got married, had a custom 34-foot sailboat built for Delaware Bay, and the speedboat only remained in his memories, along with his fiancee with whom he had enjoyed the boat and all the hopes and dreams they had for a future that never happened. Knowing Daddy he has been hanging onto those memories, maybe only for himself, because he is the only one alive for whom they still even exist at all.
As it turns out the boat was bought by someone who actually took care of it, an older man in the military who eventually died, or went to Southeast Asia (there are two versions of the story). This next owner let the boat sit for another long period, unused, till a much younger guy bought it and used it for a short while up in New York State. I do not remember how the boat came to be up there. It sat in a shed or a garage for another half-dozen years and finally someone's mother, or wife, offered it up for sale at an antiques auction up there. And someone from northern New Jersey bought and brought it back to its home state. (I am sure none of these people were aware of who once owned it.) This last owner is a friend of one of Roger's friends and Roger happened to hear that he might want to sell it. On a chance that it might turn out to be the very boat it actually turned out to be, Roger drove all the way up to Bergen County this past weekend and brought it home for Daddy.
Now Roger has been in the classic-cars business for longer than he has worked for Daddy, going back to about the same time as when Daddy bought the speedboat to begin with. So Roger knew the boat long ago, and he recognised it at first glance this past weekend. I do not know how much he paid for it, but the boat seems to be in surprisingly good condition. It has never been repainted. The upholstery on the front seats has been mended but the back seat is original (to when Daddy got it). It is even still on the original trailer (the tyres are much newer however). Best of all the engine still runs. The big Buick v-8 is one of Daddy's favourite engines-- he has several in his collection now-- and part of the reason is its durability and longevity.
Once he got over his initial shock (though he and Roger are very close I have never seen Daddy actually HUG him before!) the two of them-- and Jessy, who was feeling better than I was-- rolled the boat on its trailer into the long garage and hooked up a hose for cooling water and a newer battery for starting and got it running straight away. In spite of the light, somewhat nasty little drizzle, they left the roll-up door open and all through the house you could hear the musical blare of those wide-open exhaust pipes like a military fanfare. I stood in the kitchen leaning over the sink to see out the window, watching water run all over the tarmac and the occasional puff of smoke float out the doorway. Daddy was like a little kid with a new set of trains (and yes, he does have trains too) and didn't seem to want to shut it down. It was fully dark and fully raining by the time they brought down the door and came up for supper.
'Well?' I asked at the table. 'What's the verdict?'
He smiled. 'Well, it's still holding pretty good compression and the top end doesn't make too much noise.'
I frowned at that and Jessy laughed. 'Is it bad enough to rebuild it first?' she asked him.
I frowned again. 'Nah,' he said. 'A can of Marvel Mystery Oil should give it a few more seasons.'
(I still don't know what's so special about Marvel Mystery Oil, but I have heard him say that so many times I probably should.)
Though I am still typing this I got ready for bed about an hour ago, just after I came back up stairs. At 11.00 I had been in the kitchen getting a glass of cranberry juice when I saw the light on down in the back garage. No, I did not have to ask-- I know my daddy well enough. Even as I stood there he stepped backwards out the open garage door, stood there in the rain staring back at it, and then finally said some gentle comment at his fibreglass prodigal child before bringing down the door.
...
This afternoon Roger, our driver, pulled in to the yard with his classic Chevy Suburban towing a trailer with a faded blue-and-white speedboat on it. It was one of the few times I have ever heard my father scream spontaneously. I had been feeling under the weather and had said I would lie down but I ended up reading and so I heard him cry out down stairs. And naturally I-- as well as everyone else-- ran down to see what had excited him.
The boat is a 1976 Sidewinder fibreglass speedboat, 18 feet long, metallic silver blue (same colour as my car) with a white flame design on the front, with bucket seats in the middle and a bench seat across the back in white upholstery and a big engine in the back with a water-jet drive behind it. My dad got it in about 1979 after they had made a few hit records and the previous owner had blown up the motor (it happens). At that time he had a big convertible Buick and decided to put a Buick engine into the boat. He used it often on Barnegat Bay till that fateful year... and after his fiancee died and he left the country for a while the boat sat forlorn and forgotten on a trailer at the band's beach house till the band was dissolved and so many important things were being considered that really made the boat seem unimportant. By the time he got back from London the beach house had been sold with a lot of other stuff, including the boat and its trailer. Daddy went on with his life, met Mommy, got married, had a custom 34-foot sailboat built for Delaware Bay, and the speedboat only remained in his memories, along with his fiancee with whom he had enjoyed the boat and all the hopes and dreams they had for a future that never happened. Knowing Daddy he has been hanging onto those memories, maybe only for himself, because he is the only one alive for whom they still even exist at all.
As it turns out the boat was bought by someone who actually took care of it, an older man in the military who eventually died, or went to Southeast Asia (there are two versions of the story). This next owner let the boat sit for another long period, unused, till a much younger guy bought it and used it for a short while up in New York State. I do not remember how the boat came to be up there. It sat in a shed or a garage for another half-dozen years and finally someone's mother, or wife, offered it up for sale at an antiques auction up there. And someone from northern New Jersey bought and brought it back to its home state. (I am sure none of these people were aware of who once owned it.) This last owner is a friend of one of Roger's friends and Roger happened to hear that he might want to sell it. On a chance that it might turn out to be the very boat it actually turned out to be, Roger drove all the way up to Bergen County this past weekend and brought it home for Daddy.
Now Roger has been in the classic-cars business for longer than he has worked for Daddy, going back to about the same time as when Daddy bought the speedboat to begin with. So Roger knew the boat long ago, and he recognised it at first glance this past weekend. I do not know how much he paid for it, but the boat seems to be in surprisingly good condition. It has never been repainted. The upholstery on the front seats has been mended but the back seat is original (to when Daddy got it). It is even still on the original trailer (the tyres are much newer however). Best of all the engine still runs. The big Buick v-8 is one of Daddy's favourite engines-- he has several in his collection now-- and part of the reason is its durability and longevity.
Once he got over his initial shock (though he and Roger are very close I have never seen Daddy actually HUG him before!) the two of them-- and Jessy, who was feeling better than I was-- rolled the boat on its trailer into the long garage and hooked up a hose for cooling water and a newer battery for starting and got it running straight away. In spite of the light, somewhat nasty little drizzle, they left the roll-up door open and all through the house you could hear the musical blare of those wide-open exhaust pipes like a military fanfare. I stood in the kitchen leaning over the sink to see out the window, watching water run all over the tarmac and the occasional puff of smoke float out the doorway. Daddy was like a little kid with a new set of trains (and yes, he does have trains too) and didn't seem to want to shut it down. It was fully dark and fully raining by the time they brought down the door and came up for supper.
'Well?' I asked at the table. 'What's the verdict?'
He smiled. 'Well, it's still holding pretty good compression and the top end doesn't make too much noise.'
I frowned at that and Jessy laughed. 'Is it bad enough to rebuild it first?' she asked him.
I frowned again. 'Nah,' he said. 'A can of Marvel Mystery Oil should give it a few more seasons.'
(I still don't know what's so special about Marvel Mystery Oil, but I have heard him say that so many times I probably should.)
Though I am still typing this I got ready for bed about an hour ago, just after I came back up stairs. At 11.00 I had been in the kitchen getting a glass of cranberry juice when I saw the light on down in the back garage. No, I did not have to ask-- I know my daddy well enough. Even as I stood there he stepped backwards out the open garage door, stood there in the rain staring back at it, and then finally said some gentle comment at his fibreglass prodigal child before bringing down the door.
...
19 October 2008
Stuff I did on Saturday
Saturday evening 18 October 2008
Well, I ended up having a pleasant evening after all. Daddy and I left for the boat at like 9.00 which was an hour after we'd hoped. We pulled on the winter cover, which is large but easy to handle since it just goes over the main boom and zippers down in front of the mainmast and aft of the mizzen mast, so you can stand up in the cockpit and work underneath it. We loaded all the sails and cushions into the big van, cleared out the galley lockers, and emptied the freshwater tanks to run through a little (nontoxic) antifreeze. We also straightened up all the lines, lowered the anchor and chain to the ground (to air) and checked that the cradle blocking will survive the cold winter that's promised (or threatened). It was a lot of work but we were steadily busy. Though we were dirty we did stop at IHOP in New Castle for supper, as we so often do on our way home from New Jersey. When we got home I went right in for a savoury warm shower and then napped till about 8.30, then went online till Jessy got home.
Jessy and her friends went to a teens' dance at the firehouse in Accomac, something that gets held every once in a while by the church to which one of her friends belongs. It did not go late and by 9.30 she had rung to ask Mother if she and Josie and Anna could come back here for snacks, for an hour or so before they all went home. So they all arrived at like 10.00 in their pretty dance dresses and makeup and shoes. Jessy suggested we play Apples To Apples, which my ex-boyfriend Henry had given us in England. It's the British version but it's not much different than the American one which I have played also. I had a nice little fire going by then and suggested that we all sit at my little round table to play.
Before we got started I left them in my room and went down stairs to collect a tray with cans of Dr Pepper and cookies, which I did not send up in the dumbwaiter but carried through to the side stairs myself. So I appeared in my nice floppy grey sweatshirt and navy-blue panties and socks, what I put on after my shower. I don't think Josie or Anna actually cared. They know me and I'm comfortable, you know. Now that may seem a little risky as this is my first full day, but I have never had any problems like that. I'm just glad I'm this close to being predictable.
With my doors closed we were able to keep quiet and keep warm and keep from waking little Lisa. It did mean I wouldn't be able to hear her if she called to me, so once I got up and looked in on her from the gallery. She remained fast asleep-- the sweet sleep of a good little girl. I returned with a smile that they all saw. 'How is she?' Jessy wondered.
'She's fine,' I said softly, and sat again.
The others looked at me. Finally Josie said, 'I think it's sweet that you look out for her.'
'Well why shouldn't I?' I said. 'She is my sister.'
They all smiled at me again. 'Janine's like her other mother,' Jessy said, and drew a card to start the next round. 'We had our nanny and Lisa has Janine.'
'Yes,' I said, looking at her. We have discussed this together before but never with anyone else. 'Well-- she has both of us.'
Jessy smiled at me, then turned over the car on the table: 'Extraordinary'. I wanted to put down 'Jessy'.
...
Well, I ended up having a pleasant evening after all. Daddy and I left for the boat at like 9.00 which was an hour after we'd hoped. We pulled on the winter cover, which is large but easy to handle since it just goes over the main boom and zippers down in front of the mainmast and aft of the mizzen mast, so you can stand up in the cockpit and work underneath it. We loaded all the sails and cushions into the big van, cleared out the galley lockers, and emptied the freshwater tanks to run through a little (nontoxic) antifreeze. We also straightened up all the lines, lowered the anchor and chain to the ground (to air) and checked that the cradle blocking will survive the cold winter that's promised (or threatened). It was a lot of work but we were steadily busy. Though we were dirty we did stop at IHOP in New Castle for supper, as we so often do on our way home from New Jersey. When we got home I went right in for a savoury warm shower and then napped till about 8.30, then went online till Jessy got home.
Jessy and her friends went to a teens' dance at the firehouse in Accomac, something that gets held every once in a while by the church to which one of her friends belongs. It did not go late and by 9.30 she had rung to ask Mother if she and Josie and Anna could come back here for snacks, for an hour or so before they all went home. So they all arrived at like 10.00 in their pretty dance dresses and makeup and shoes. Jessy suggested we play Apples To Apples, which my ex-boyfriend Henry had given us in England. It's the British version but it's not much different than the American one which I have played also. I had a nice little fire going by then and suggested that we all sit at my little round table to play.
Before we got started I left them in my room and went down stairs to collect a tray with cans of Dr Pepper and cookies, which I did not send up in the dumbwaiter but carried through to the side stairs myself. So I appeared in my nice floppy grey sweatshirt and navy-blue panties and socks, what I put on after my shower. I don't think Josie or Anna actually cared. They know me and I'm comfortable, you know. Now that may seem a little risky as this is my first full day, but I have never had any problems like that. I'm just glad I'm this close to being predictable.
With my doors closed we were able to keep quiet and keep warm and keep from waking little Lisa. It did mean I wouldn't be able to hear her if she called to me, so once I got up and looked in on her from the gallery. She remained fast asleep-- the sweet sleep of a good little girl. I returned with a smile that they all saw. 'How is she?' Jessy wondered.
'She's fine,' I said softly, and sat again.
The others looked at me. Finally Josie said, 'I think it's sweet that you look out for her.'
'Well why shouldn't I?' I said. 'She is my sister.'
They all smiled at me again. 'Janine's like her other mother,' Jessy said, and drew a card to start the next round. 'We had our nanny and Lisa has Janine.'
'Yes,' I said, looking at her. We have discussed this together before but never with anyone else. 'Well-- she has both of us.'
Jessy smiled at me, then turned over the car on the table: 'Extraordinary'. I wanted to put down 'Jessy'.
...
25 September 2008
Of wind and sea
Thursday, 25 September 2008
We have got another northeaster again, a bit fiercer than the one last week when Jessy and I rode up to Chincoteague to see it. This one is less picturesque and less welcome, and we certainly don't need to go anywhere else but home to see it. From my window I watch with no sense of comfort as the whole Bay breaks up into wild whitecaps, rising three and four feet in places and smacking into our pretty concrete jetty so that not merely the spray but the wave's own green water shoots straight up and rains down on the terrace. If not for our own garden wall we might well be seeing waves lapping at our swimming pool.
(Do not even ask about the pool! --it is by now thoroughly salty!)
As I write this the sky has gone dark in two hours' anticipation of sunset and the wind hammers at the side of the house. Fortunately our lovely boat is not here but already pulled out for the season and safely blocked somewhere well up the Delaware River, or else I might have seen it bobbing too animatedly too close to the floating dock. Our chaises and tables are all pushed up against the house where they would have blown much less neatly had we left them out.
I am not cold and sit here, still in my jeans and jersey from school and with my warm little bear in my lap, shivering even so as I consider how very vulnerable a human being is before Nature. My only consolation is that all things come from God, including these storms, and maybe this is His way of testing us, of showing us what we must endure in order to learn to trust Him in His infinite judgement. Then again maybe this is His way of changing the seasons. If so, then not as I will, but as You will, O God... and forgive me for lamenting that my summer here has been much too short!
...
We have got another northeaster again, a bit fiercer than the one last week when Jessy and I rode up to Chincoteague to see it. This one is less picturesque and less welcome, and we certainly don't need to go anywhere else but home to see it. From my window I watch with no sense of comfort as the whole Bay breaks up into wild whitecaps, rising three and four feet in places and smacking into our pretty concrete jetty so that not merely the spray but the wave's own green water shoots straight up and rains down on the terrace. If not for our own garden wall we might well be seeing waves lapping at our swimming pool.
(Do not even ask about the pool! --it is by now thoroughly salty!)
As I write this the sky has gone dark in two hours' anticipation of sunset and the wind hammers at the side of the house. Fortunately our lovely boat is not here but already pulled out for the season and safely blocked somewhere well up the Delaware River, or else I might have seen it bobbing too animatedly too close to the floating dock. Our chaises and tables are all pushed up against the house where they would have blown much less neatly had we left them out.
I am not cold and sit here, still in my jeans and jersey from school and with my warm little bear in my lap, shivering even so as I consider how very vulnerable a human being is before Nature. My only consolation is that all things come from God, including these storms, and maybe this is His way of testing us, of showing us what we must endure in order to learn to trust Him in His infinite judgement. Then again maybe this is His way of changing the seasons. If so, then not as I will, but as You will, O God... and forgive me for lamenting that my summer here has been much too short!
...
22 August 2008
Musings under sail
Friday, 22 August 2008
Today Jessy and I went out on the boat with Daddy, just the three of us, while Mother took Lisa and J.J. to investigate a dance school for Lisa and to go shopping. We were not out long, but we got some decent sailing done. At first we just sailed straight out about five miles, then we tacked back towards Parramore before turning north again downwind.
We got to talk about things, especially school. Daddy assured us that we would have a ride to school each day instead of taking the bus-- we are not even signed up for it and so not allowed to ride it. He also reminded us to stay a good influence for people, as we always have been, and especially in this rural American area. Coming from a very nice girls' school in England we know this will be a big change for us. Jessy and I have not been to a public American school since that fateful November in 2002 when I got in trouble over the Jesus paper. My stepmother-- not even 21 years old then and barely five months our legal parent-- marched down to the principal and argued for a nice little girl's right to claim Jesus Christ as her role model. How dare a 5th-grade teacher say someone can't say that. The Board finally allowed the paper, but my teacher managed to smirk something like, 'Don't expect any more exceptions', and when Mother heard that she was ready to thrash her. Her response was to withdraw us from school and to teach us at home. And we had a great time doing that, wearing our old-fashioned Colonial gowns, opening our lessons with Bible readings and prayer, breaking for tea at 11 and having lunch with a pot of soup warmed over an actual fire. We read a lot, wrote a lot, talked a lot, and went on cultural trips to historic sites and hiked the beach park for our nature/science lessons. And Jessy and I were both able to transfer to HOH and stay even a little ahead of those standards. This is from having a precocious academic-genius stepmother for a teacher :)
Daddy is an extremely honest and trustworthy person who tends to trust everyone else implicitly. He truly loves all people. Being a performer was probably the best job he could have had. Before Mommy died she tended to keep him grounded and sensible, doing the chequebook, all the charity projects, and even a lot of the recording-studio work. But our stepmother, while she is a very good partner for him in so many ways, especially with caring for us four, is only as trusting and honest as Daddy is. I mean-- we have an accountant now :)
On the way back he had Jessy and I pull up the big jib and the boat slowly wandered back toward the Inlet. We were going to lie down on the foredeck but didn't want to leave Daddy all alone back there. Still we had been sitting up on the cabintop sightseeing and hadn't looked back for a few minutes when he leaned over and said, 'What are you guys doing up here?'
We both gave a jump and then whirled round to see no one at the wheel. 'What are YOU doing up here?' I teased.
He shrugged and stood with his hands in his pockets, as easy as a seasoned sea captain on the side deck with the boat minding its own course. You have to remember that when Daddy calls us 'guys' it means we are totally sexless to him, that he thinks of us only as personalities and intellects and not as two cute chicks in bikinis (and sometimes less!). And then there are the times when he is very particular about our femininity, always knocking on doors, allowing us to sit first at the table, opening the car door, and so on, setting the example of what a gentleman should be like towards us as we became ladies. Mommy was always a good role model for little girls; our stepmother was the one we, at least I, turned to at those awkward years; and all through it Daddy has been a perfect gentleman. We know what he means when he cautions us about remaining a good influence and keeping ourselves unstained from the world. Jessy and I have both agreed we are going to wear skirts to school on the first day, and skirts or dresses as much as we can after that. Why not? --we wore skirts at HOH. And it makes us look and feel ladylike. A lady's best defence is her femininity-- look and act like a lady, and people will treat you like one. And going into a whole new school and cultural experience, we can at least be true to what we know, and how we have been raised-- and what our daddy expects of us.
...
Today Jessy and I went out on the boat with Daddy, just the three of us, while Mother took Lisa and J.J. to investigate a dance school for Lisa and to go shopping. We were not out long, but we got some decent sailing done. At first we just sailed straight out about five miles, then we tacked back towards Parramore before turning north again downwind.
We got to talk about things, especially school. Daddy assured us that we would have a ride to school each day instead of taking the bus-- we are not even signed up for it and so not allowed to ride it. He also reminded us to stay a good influence for people, as we always have been, and especially in this rural American area. Coming from a very nice girls' school in England we know this will be a big change for us. Jessy and I have not been to a public American school since that fateful November in 2002 when I got in trouble over the Jesus paper. My stepmother-- not even 21 years old then and barely five months our legal parent-- marched down to the principal and argued for a nice little girl's right to claim Jesus Christ as her role model. How dare a 5th-grade teacher say someone can't say that. The Board finally allowed the paper, but my teacher managed to smirk something like, 'Don't expect any more exceptions', and when Mother heard that she was ready to thrash her. Her response was to withdraw us from school and to teach us at home. And we had a great time doing that, wearing our old-fashioned Colonial gowns, opening our lessons with Bible readings and prayer, breaking for tea at 11 and having lunch with a pot of soup warmed over an actual fire. We read a lot, wrote a lot, talked a lot, and went on cultural trips to historic sites and hiked the beach park for our nature/science lessons. And Jessy and I were both able to transfer to HOH and stay even a little ahead of those standards. This is from having a precocious academic-genius stepmother for a teacher :)
Daddy is an extremely honest and trustworthy person who tends to trust everyone else implicitly. He truly loves all people. Being a performer was probably the best job he could have had. Before Mommy died she tended to keep him grounded and sensible, doing the chequebook, all the charity projects, and even a lot of the recording-studio work. But our stepmother, while she is a very good partner for him in so many ways, especially with caring for us four, is only as trusting and honest as Daddy is. I mean-- we have an accountant now :)
On the way back he had Jessy and I pull up the big jib and the boat slowly wandered back toward the Inlet. We were going to lie down on the foredeck but didn't want to leave Daddy all alone back there. Still we had been sitting up on the cabintop sightseeing and hadn't looked back for a few minutes when he leaned over and said, 'What are you guys doing up here?'
We both gave a jump and then whirled round to see no one at the wheel. 'What are YOU doing up here?' I teased.
He shrugged and stood with his hands in his pockets, as easy as a seasoned sea captain on the side deck with the boat minding its own course. You have to remember that when Daddy calls us 'guys' it means we are totally sexless to him, that he thinks of us only as personalities and intellects and not as two cute chicks in bikinis (and sometimes less!). And then there are the times when he is very particular about our femininity, always knocking on doors, allowing us to sit first at the table, opening the car door, and so on, setting the example of what a gentleman should be like towards us as we became ladies. Mommy was always a good role model for little girls; our stepmother was the one we, at least I, turned to at those awkward years; and all through it Daddy has been a perfect gentleman. We know what he means when he cautions us about remaining a good influence and keeping ourselves unstained from the world. Jessy and I have both agreed we are going to wear skirts to school on the first day, and skirts or dresses as much as we can after that. Why not? --we wore skirts at HOH. And it makes us look and feel ladylike. A lady's best defence is her femininity-- look and act like a lady, and people will treat you like one. And going into a whole new school and cultural experience, we can at least be true to what we know, and how we have been raised-- and what our daddy expects of us.
...
A secret adventure
Tuesday, 19 August 2008
Today we got up pretty early to go sailing. Little J.J. feel asleep almost as soon as he got on board, all bundled up in his lifejacket in the forward berth. The rest of us sat up on deck as we went out through Burtons Bay and through the inlet to the ocean. This is the way usually taken by the fishermen and we waved to them all. There were four of us in swimsuits-- me, Jessy, Lisa, and Mother (our stepmother). Sometimes Mother looks as young as we are!
Since the weather is usually from the south at this time of year, we headed down the coast, outside Parramore and Hog. Just before noon we anchored in the shallows behind Cobb, as we have done before, and had a swim. Daddy waded round with little J.J. on his shoulders and then put him and Lisa into the dinghy and rowed them round the boat while Mother, Jessy and I swam and basked. We returned to the boat to have sandwiches and then Jessy and I put on swim slippers and waded in to the island. It is very empty and open, just dunes and grass and swamps down along the water. We saw crabs and turtles and plenty of fish, and we were able to see where the gulls had their nests.
This would be a very nice place for sunning but it is still public property and Virginia law prohibits all nudity on public land. Nevertheless Jessy took off her top for a while, and then so did I. We tromped down over the dunes to the ocean side and suddenly got the idea to dare ourselves. There was no one around and our parents would not see us breaking the law. So we shimmied out of our bottoms too and splashed out into the surf.
Neither of us has ever gone into the ocean naked. It was a lovely feeling, or should I say an exciting one. Both of us were sprinkled with goosepimples. 'Oh! I wish I had a camera!' Jessy said.
I laughed at that. 'I would NOT let you post them on FaceBook,' I said.
'Rats.'
We both laughed.
Of course we still had on our swim slippers because the bottom here is always questionable. We were not in the water long and then we collected our sandy swimsuit pieces and tromped back over the dune. From up on the crest we could see the boat, flying the family flag, with two adult figures and two smaller ones sitting in the cockpit. The sun had gone overhead and we wondered if they could make us out. Actually I think they were not looking.
We took turns sitting on a piece of wood and wet our swimsuit bottoms before pulling them on. Standing up in the water we retied each other's top. 'I would love to come here alone,' Jessy said quietly, almost in a whisper. 'Just the two of us... so we could do this all day.'
I sighed. 'Me too,' I said.
She turned around and looked right at me then. 'Do you remember that time I was in the pool, and I got you to do this?'
I nodded. It was the first time I'd been swimming naked since I was about six.
'It felt like that this time, too.'
I felt a really strong shiver go through me then. I knew what she meant. 'Me too,' I said.
She giggled a little and then turned to wade back across the bay.
We didn't tell anyone about our little adventure. This is the first I have mentioned it.
We sailed back up the coast, mostly downwind, with the big blue-and-white genoa and matching mizzen staysail up. Daddy really likes to set sail and get the boat moving. For a while I lay down on the foredeck with my chin on the rail, staring down at the froth of water. I did think of untying my top; but what would be the point? I'm tan enough, and it'd only be awkward getting myself back together when I had to; and besides, my upper body was mostly in shade from the sail. Jessy came forward and sat down on the other side of me. 'Wee should have our own boat,' she said. 'We could go down there all the time, by ourselves, and just... relax.'
I turned my head and looked up at her. 'Are you going to be all right, there?'
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, filling her chest. Then she sighed, almost sadly. 'Eventually....'
I giggled. 'I know what you'll be doing, when we get back home.'
She sighed again. 'I know. And why not? I'd have been doing it already, if....'
I nodded. 'I know.... If....'
She smiled. 'You want it too.'
'Sometimes I do.'
'No, I mean that place. You want that place too.'
That is how she said it, like that place could be taken, captured, owned, held. But I knew what she meant. She wants the experience of being naked there, wandering around amidst the rushes and dunes with no other human being nearby. And I admit I want it too. Maybe someday we'll get to have that place again, to ourselves, and for more than one not-so-buggy afternoon with our parents waiting.
...
Today we got up pretty early to go sailing. Little J.J. feel asleep almost as soon as he got on board, all bundled up in his lifejacket in the forward berth. The rest of us sat up on deck as we went out through Burtons Bay and through the inlet to the ocean. This is the way usually taken by the fishermen and we waved to them all. There were four of us in swimsuits-- me, Jessy, Lisa, and Mother (our stepmother). Sometimes Mother looks as young as we are!
Since the weather is usually from the south at this time of year, we headed down the coast, outside Parramore and Hog. Just before noon we anchored in the shallows behind Cobb, as we have done before, and had a swim. Daddy waded round with little J.J. on his shoulders and then put him and Lisa into the dinghy and rowed them round the boat while Mother, Jessy and I swam and basked. We returned to the boat to have sandwiches and then Jessy and I put on swim slippers and waded in to the island. It is very empty and open, just dunes and grass and swamps down along the water. We saw crabs and turtles and plenty of fish, and we were able to see where the gulls had their nests.
This would be a very nice place for sunning but it is still public property and Virginia law prohibits all nudity on public land. Nevertheless Jessy took off her top for a while, and then so did I. We tromped down over the dunes to the ocean side and suddenly got the idea to dare ourselves. There was no one around and our parents would not see us breaking the law. So we shimmied out of our bottoms too and splashed out into the surf.
Neither of us has ever gone into the ocean naked. It was a lovely feeling, or should I say an exciting one. Both of us were sprinkled with goosepimples. 'Oh! I wish I had a camera!' Jessy said.
I laughed at that. 'I would NOT let you post them on FaceBook,' I said.
'Rats.'
We both laughed.
Of course we still had on our swim slippers because the bottom here is always questionable. We were not in the water long and then we collected our sandy swimsuit pieces and tromped back over the dune. From up on the crest we could see the boat, flying the family flag, with two adult figures and two smaller ones sitting in the cockpit. The sun had gone overhead and we wondered if they could make us out. Actually I think they were not looking.
We took turns sitting on a piece of wood and wet our swimsuit bottoms before pulling them on. Standing up in the water we retied each other's top. 'I would love to come here alone,' Jessy said quietly, almost in a whisper. 'Just the two of us... so we could do this all day.'
I sighed. 'Me too,' I said.
She turned around and looked right at me then. 'Do you remember that time I was in the pool, and I got you to do this?'
I nodded. It was the first time I'd been swimming naked since I was about six.
'It felt like that this time, too.'
I felt a really strong shiver go through me then. I knew what she meant. 'Me too,' I said.
She giggled a little and then turned to wade back across the bay.
We didn't tell anyone about our little adventure. This is the first I have mentioned it.
We sailed back up the coast, mostly downwind, with the big blue-and-white genoa and matching mizzen staysail up. Daddy really likes to set sail and get the boat moving. For a while I lay down on the foredeck with my chin on the rail, staring down at the froth of water. I did think of untying my top; but what would be the point? I'm tan enough, and it'd only be awkward getting myself back together when I had to; and besides, my upper body was mostly in shade from the sail. Jessy came forward and sat down on the other side of me. 'Wee should have our own boat,' she said. 'We could go down there all the time, by ourselves, and just... relax.'
I turned my head and looked up at her. 'Are you going to be all right, there?'
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, filling her chest. Then she sighed, almost sadly. 'Eventually....'
I giggled. 'I know what you'll be doing, when we get back home.'
She sighed again. 'I know. And why not? I'd have been doing it already, if....'
I nodded. 'I know.... If....'
She smiled. 'You want it too.'
'Sometimes I do.'
'No, I mean that place. You want that place too.'
That is how she said it, like that place could be taken, captured, owned, held. But I knew what she meant. She wants the experience of being naked there, wandering around amidst the rushes and dunes with no other human being nearby. And I admit I want it too. Maybe someday we'll get to have that place again, to ourselves, and for more than one not-so-buggy afternoon with our parents waiting.
...
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