I grew up on sailboats.
Please do not read that as I sail because I do not.
I was always along for the ride because either I had no interest in learning to sail or my parents had no interest in teaching me (I don’t remember which). By the time I was in high school, I preferred to stay home when my parents sailed every weekend. I would only accompany them if I could bring a friend -- preferably a boyfriend -- with whom I’d snuggle either atop a sleeping bag on the bow or wrapped in a sleeping bag on the stern while my parents tacked and jibed all around the San Francisco Bay.
To me, sailboats were a place to socialize or relax while someone else was at the helm. That someone was my dad…
…or my mom.
My parents had a passion for sailing. Mom grew up on the Chiemsee in Bavaria and sailed (and skied!) since she could walk. She taught Dad to sail when they first met and that was the beginning of 50 years of co-skippering.
Now (five years after Mom's death) Dad has a new skipper, a new first mate -- his POSLQ (person of opposite sex sharing living quarters!), Lou. They jibe perfectly together.
This afternoon Dad and Lou arrived in Seattle on their way to the San Juan Islands where they, along with Lou’s younger sister Sally (who’s still over 70!) will sail for a week – Dad at the helm, captain of a sailboat again…
…at 81 years old!
He’s most definitely Opa da (Sailor) MAN!