Norman Rockwell

I was around 12 when friends from America sent me The Boy Scout Handbook.   I was all about the Boy Scouts then , we used the original English  “Scouting for Boys”   (maybe in the US they caught on quicker that that title could be  awkward…)  and this was probably the first time I realized that things were really different in America. The cover and the illustrations were by Norman Rockwell , and I though they were the coolest I had ever seen. I remembered the name and decades later realized that he was almost a byword for a certain classical America now gone.

If something was “just out of Norman Rockwell”  it meant it was a scene of a somewhat idealized past of America , the Beautiful  , full  of picket fences and  apple pie  , an America I would  never be a part of , no matter what happened .

One of his strengths were the expressions he managed to  depict and the little story he told , or left to our imagination in most of his pictures and portraits. Like the sailor here , telling the girl all about how he got that parrot in a faraway beach amidst a hundred adventures , and the girl is trying hard to remember mum’s lessons and not pay attention to such  types , holding tight to her little bible and building up courage to leave…yet on the other hand , she is sitting there , and by her dress she’s not a girl that usually goes around docks , so she must like him…and he’s trying hard but his yarn doesn’t seem to have much effect. Yet she is there , listening , waiting for him to finish his story , waiting to hear something else because parrot stories don’t feed love .

Last Sunday I walked to the Museum of Modern Art . It’s great to be able to walk  both to the beach and downtown , and I went to see the Norman Rockwell exhibition , a great retrospective of his life’s work. The museum was full of people old enough to remember most of those covers from  The Saturday Evening Post and the days they illustrated.

Hundreds of pictures and portraits  of everyday America back in the day , like this one of a baseball match , no one knows what’s going on but the player looks helpless ,       the crowd is jeering him  and his own team looks like they have no hopes whatsoever for  his performance . I have no idea of what may be going on in this game but it’s another great snapshot from a time when there wasn’t this overwhelming torrent of images like we have today.

If someone captured the American Way of Life in his own life’s work , it was Norman Rockwell

The year’s first sail was down the Chesapeake Bay bound for Florida , breaking ice to leave Back  Creek and running down the Bay with the decks covered in driving snow. Snow! I’m a southern boy , I don’t do well  in the cold , it hampers my movements and thoughts.

We left with empty water tanks, all is iced and frozen and there is not a single dock with running water until North Carolina.

Rounded Cape Hatteras in half a gale and spent hours and hours pondering whether to stop in Charleston or not. Thawing out is not an acceptable reason for a stop over, all was well with the boat and crew so if I stopped it would be my own time and money being spent.

Why would I stop? To sail past Patriot Point and see if a certain beautiful cat is still there or has finally headed South. To sail along the Battery and up the Ashley , eyes fixed on the shore . To have a drink at Salty Mike’s with good old friends. To walk the streets for hours looking right and left for an unlikely glimpse of someone I once thought I knew. Crazy. Except for seeing friends this served no good purpose , my wind was fair if freezing , I pushed on. I’ll be back , in April , with a storm that I know will rage across the Lowlands when that day comes.

And now I’m off to Trinidad . Even if I wanted to run away from the memories , they seem to find me , time and time again.

Small world, new year

Last night I picked up an old friend at the airport , just flying in from Chicago.

- I told you about S , remember , one of my childhood friend’s daughter? From Lake Forest?

At the mention of Lake Forest  I  stand at attention.

- I really don’t remember…..

-Well, I told you about them back then, and we had dinner yesterday , and talked a lot about you

-About me?

-Yes , because S is a good friend of C’s younger sister…

Man , oh man , here we go.

- I’m listening…. – and my mind is already racing  50 miles ahead of reality

-Well, they were mentioning the  family’s  sailing  trip  , and I told them I knew all about it , and that I knew you from way back. We even looked for pictures online , and checked the blogs and all

Dear me , how thoroughly  did you check the blogs , I thought ….

-Don’t bother looking for pictures of me on that boat or with the family. I’ve been erased in more ways than one

- Yeah , we didn’t find your pictures on their websites but they are great friends and I was telling them about you, they are coming to town and…..

his voice trails off , I’m no longer listening , speeding  along up  US1 and down to the beach.  The thought of a connection , albeit thin and meaningless , is the only thing on my mind.

How stupid is this , how ridiculous ,  I think to myself now, the morning after having drunk one too many ,   thinking about  the irrelevant fact that my friend’s  friend daughter , is a friend of  the sister of the woman I love and lost.  If only I could just accept this information with a shrug instead a tremor. If only I could see her again. If only….

I guess   my determination  about never mentioning her here again was worthless . I can’t help it  , I can’t help myself , I still don’t think about much else and all evidence , logic and reason don’t seem to be able to move me, these things just have a power of their own , and woe betide the poor souls who fall in this trap. A trap that gets people to write things like woe betide.

2009 , the worst , most wretched year  in my life, ends tomorrow but unfortunately will never be forgotten.

The Moon  will be full , and that’s beautiful .It’s  the best possible start for anything and a great mark for a transition. I know that  life changing events can happen unexpectedly at any time  , that  I’m  headed for good  things in my profession  and that there are many things  to be grateful for  in my life ,  but the  heart is broken and it all stops right there.

2010 will have a huge advantage over this past year:  I have no more  illusions   and I  cannot be broken twice.

Patriot Pirates

I just finished a book called “ Patriot Pirates” , subtitled “The Privateer War for Freedom and Fortune in the American Revolution”.

Privateering is , by any honest measure , state endorsed high seas robbery , in turn more commonly know as piracy. Since there was no such thing as an American State before 1788 , all the privateering that the Americans carried out from 1775 until Independence was , legally speaking , piracy , just like the Independence War was technically a rebellion.

The back cover of the book is headed by this curious statement by a Winston Groom : “The British had always accused us of being pirates and thieves. Robert Patton’s fascinating account of privateering during the American Revolution nicely proves their point.” . Indeed . It proves that particular point and a few others that are never brought up on the 4^th of July , seldom in classrooms (I presume) or on the abundant hagiographies of the class of merchants and land owners who was to go down in History as The Founding Fathers. For every man of principle that signed the Declaration there were a dozen whose main motive was personal advancement and profit , and profit handsomely they all did , while the lowly ones , not wealthy enough to have a say, froze , starved , fought and died , either from dedication or lack of option.Of most of those no one remembers the names .

No claims of moral highground stand up to close scrutiny.A man of Franklin’s genius and merits thought nothing of excoriating the European monarchies as oppressors of Man’s “natural rights” and enemies of peace among nations and in the next step pick up his gifted pen to grovel before the King of France for assistance , all the while scheming as hard as he could to bring about war between Britain and France.

Liberty , yes , but let’s prioritize. The famed Boston Tea Party was not an act of defiance towards the colonial masters , it was nothing but preventing a glut of tea in the market that would have dramatically reduced prices , and therefore the profits for some of the Boston elite.

The most noteworthy fact revealed by this book is that while Washington struggled (unsuccessfully for most of the War) to mobilize and keep an Army to face the British and Congress struggled to man the incipient Navy , the call to privateering was answered immediately by thousands . Never a privateer stayed in harbor for want of crew , and they sailed from America’s harbours in their hundreds.

When the call was to defend an abstract notion like sovereignty , few showed up , most carried on about their business , maybe intuitively knowing that in the end it was all a matter of changing one master for another . But when the call was backed by the possibility of profit , the nation heeded with alacrity , and it was this pirate and smuggler fleet , along with France’s support out of hatred for England rather then love for America , that eventually wore down the British and won America’s Independence.

Life , liberty and the pursuit of wealth.Huzzay!

Giving Thanks

I arrived in Fort Lauderdale  last night after cutting across the Grand Bahama Bank through the night , swimming off Bimini in the morning , being boarded by the USCG in the afternoon . Up to Isle of Venice on diesel fumes and the convenience of arriving with a already clean and packed  boat and being able to clear out.

I have a place to hang my hat from where I can walk to the beach , a locker to keep my clothes , a desk, shelves for my books and tools and a view I like over the canal , the boats and Las Olas Boulevard. I never came around to buying a bed, I’ve been sleeping on an air matress since I’ve been here and got used to it . I can sleep anywhere , have better things to spend the money on and it’s not as if I’m trying to make a home or anything.

There is a South African kid squatting here , came on a delivery from Cape Town 2 months ago and crewed for us a couple of times , I had told him he could stay for a while and had completely forgotten about him after I left for France. I spent years crashing at friends’ and aquaintances’ and as long as I can any sailor is welcome to put his bag down in my house .Now my own crew is camped for the duration , and my partner is due here with his crew  this weekend. Proper crew house,   every girls’s dream.

I called  my parents , who don’t know what Thanksgiving is but are always thankful to hear my voice. No man should have to hear his mother crying far away , even if there is joy in the tears. Then I skype my brother , I see my youngest nephews and this lump comes up to my throat. My brother’s oldest spent probably the whole of 3 days with me all his little life yet he yells out my name whenever he sees me or a picture of me , yaks on and on with me on camera , “states , states!Ti Jo’ Ti Jo’!” , blows me kisses and drives me to tears. The littlest one has the sweetest smile a child can have , and never ever cries. My sister’s is a grown boy now , soon will be getting into boy’s troubles. He’s playing football for Sporting’s youth , his uncle’s pride and mother’s concern.

I tally my earnings from this delivery and can’t help laughing , bitterly , and thinking about  the people who value my work thus and grind us down knowing there is always some fucking amateur on holidays who will make the trip for peanuts and kicks , and since we need the job we will take the pay cuts. What a profession .

I wanted to buy an ipod and speakers for the computer , I need a new pair of glasses , need to renew the car insurance and driver’s license and fill the gas tank . I have to replace my tattered jeans and belt , need a haircut and new binoculars , my 10 year old briefcase finally fell apart , I have to renew my Economist subscription , the fridge is empty and December’s rent is coming up , so I have to prioritize all these wild spendthrift expenses. I just sailed a million dollar fifty foot cat across the Ocean and I can’t even afford to take a girl out to dinner . No wonder I ended up alone .

None of my friends is in town but I have a green ziploc in the freezer and the young saffa was thoughtful enough to lay in a case of Yuengling.

Ii have a lot to thank for on this date.I am alive.  I’ve been to hell and halfway back and found that I still have a heart, and I know its a good one . I have a family that loves me and is always there for me , no matter the distance or time apart. I believe I have been loved . I don’t hate anyone . There is always Someone watching over me in dificult times , guiding my hand , deflecting the blows , showing me the channel . I have dozens of friends , true Friends , around a World of which I have seen a fair part and through which I move with ease , confidence and the bearing of an Ocean Captain descended from the most daring race of seafarers . I have the respect of my peers , who are few. I am a man of Honour who tells no lies and doesn’t walk back on his Word. I earn enough to keep body and soul together and exercise my mind and I owe nothing to no man , bank or company . I have Dreams and the will to make them come true. I’m up and ready for tomorrow’s challenges and not two of my days are the same. I own a refuge in a place of lonesome purity and unsurpassed beauty where I hope to end my days in Peace , should they end ashore.

For all this I am giving Thanks today.

 

 

 

Crossings

I anchored in Road Harbor 18 days out of Las Palmas. Didn’t break any records as the days upon days of flying at 10 plus knots , double reefed and running before half a gale had led me to believe . Soon enough my fresh breeze left me and we did most of the crossing at a pace too slow for my wishes and this boat’s size and capabilities. If only I had had a gennaker, a spinnaker , a screecher , some downwind sail , but no , the yacht is bare and basic , old story.

We had one ugly squall , in the middle of night , of course , blowing 40kts out of nothing with lashing rain , and we were running under full sail . As I scrambled to the bridge my old loose glasses flew away and between rain , wind , darkness, and me not seeing enough it took me a while to get hold of things. Nothing broke , nothing ripped , no one got hurt , but it was pretty intense. One day ‘ll have that eye surgery. To think that I was 2 weeks away from having it done for free in Portugal , on that wretched evil system of socialized medicine , and had to leave to go get some boat….

My crew held fine. Once again I teached , I balanced , I looked after and listened , I inspired and touched people’s lives. It warms my heart and its a reward on its own. “I’ll sail anywhere with you” is the biggest compliment I can hear.

I learned another couple of lessons I’ll try to keep close at heart , I have always been pretty good at that , realizing and acknowledging my mistakes , knowing that I will learn the Sea until the day comes when I will finally give it up , and I will rarely , very rarely , make the same mistake twice. A Captain is usually only as good as his last delivery and a hundred thousand miles of good service can be forgotten in a minute by the bean counters and money makers , may they all grow richer and richer each day.

I read at my usual pace. I read Samarkand in its original French and read again Don Quijote , this time in its original Spanish . Languages are not a permanent gift , we will lose them if we don’t practice , read , write , listen , speak , travel. I was disappointed by Michener’s Mexico , and read a couple more books on American History.

I brought along a little tome called “One Day Celestial Navigation for Offshore Sailing” plus a sextant, and every day of clear sky , around the time the Sun reached its zenith over distant old Greenwich , I took out sextant and tables and taught myself the rudiments of this beautiful skill. I once fixed my Latitude to within one mile , and was so proud! On average I get more like four , still enough to find my Island when the Time comes. Longitude will take me longer but soon enough I’ll be able to navigate by the Sun , Moon and Stars. The feeling of fixing our position in the middle of the Ocean like this is , to use the most misused word in English these days , awesome.

We were half way across on the 2^nd of November when the Moon was full , and you can’t explain sailing on a leading wind on a Full Moon night that seems endless , like the Ocean.

And I grappled and fought with my demons , savage little beasts they are. I haven’t defeated them but they are humbled , tamed and confined to a small dark hole in my soul , they may wither and die there or they may stay for ever , laying in ambush, waiting for a song , a sight , an allusion , one drink too many , to set about me again . I can take it , because I know that at long weary last they lost their total grip on my Life , my bigger Life , my wondrous Life.

I wrote , pages and pages , of endless sorrow and regret , love and anger and shame at my anger , pages of fact and fantasy , of old and new feelings . Then I deleted them all for good along with dozens of pictures of the happiest days I’ve lived, as if I was burning them and scattering the ashes to the wind , and I breathed deep. Therapy.

I don’t know of happiness but I feel free again , scar tissue thickening , I am armoured and ready to face the Future . For the first time since February I think of what lies ahead and feel strong and confident that I have a lot to rise to , to live for , a lot to accomplish , to give , to learn and explore , to teach and inspire, to build and create .

I have payed with compound interest and added fees for the unhappiness I caused , like we all have to , sooner or later , knowingly or not .There is always a reckoning. I feel like I now have a clean slate and I am determined to never ever again put myself in a position where I can risk causing or suffering such pain . Don’t make the same mistake twice. The Sea teaches , soothes , gives perspective and the Time and Distance we need to figure it out. 18 days , 2700 miles .We worked , learned , marveled, fished , swam , worried , cooked , played , laughed , discovered , swapped stories , wishes , aspirations and dreams. Dreams were lost , I will make others come true , ones that don’t depend on anyone but myself. Peace is just there over the Horizon.

The first time I sailed to Las Palmas was 12 years ago almost to this day , a youngster learning to sail , with stars in my eyes and a whole new world of adventure opening up before me. The last time was last November , it was to be my last crossing , and I was so happy for it, thinking that 19 times was more then enough , I had seen a fair share of the World and adventured to my heart’s content , I had my mind full of promises and plans , dreams and images of the future.

I left the dock with a glowing heart , a letter for me had just arrived at the marina that very day , a love letter that I would read over and over again during the 27 days it took me to sail to Fort Lauderdale , a letter to remind me of the new life I was about to start when I reached America , land of new beginnings and endless promise.

Almost a year later here I am again , for all I know I can still come back another 20 times , there are no more promises or expectations , no letters, no hopes but for a safe passage and another boat at the other end .

I noticed that there are visitors from Charleston , South Carolina , reading this , I have a pretty close idea of who that might be and am not sure at all of what to think of it , but it obviously ocuppies a lotof my mind.

I see the pictures of devoted happiness and affection. It wouldn’t hurt to ease it a little on me and choose for the profile picture, the only one I can see , something like a simple smiling ( double , of course) head shot… but no , there’s a point to be made , fair enough. Never expected much mercy , how could I from someone who could not even offer a few kind soothing words to ease the pain of parting even if she didn’t feel any of it .Someone who will be a therapist should know the value of that, but no , no mercy, go away , go find you peace of mind , I’m so happy now , I never thought it was possible , see , all in a week or so after I forsook you , now I realize  that you were clearly a washout , a sickly broke vagrant without a hope of a normal life , and a terrible lover who never even came close to making me vaguely happy , despite anything I might have said or written at the time.

She didn’t write this , but that’s what reached me. And the house , the cutest little love nest , I don’t think I’m far off the mark if I venture that the supporting parents offered some great terms on a little cottage that was to be developed…. I may be wrong , and even if I’m right it’s perfectly legitimate and understandable , but how does that make me feel , the guy whose company they preferred to avoid , not disguising much their aversion to even having me stay overnight , let alone talk to me and ask me if I had any plans for my future with this girl who , incidentally , had said Yes when I asked her “Will you marry me? “.

On my knees , at a restaurant in London , to where I had flown to see her and dry her tears.I did’t go properly about the expected US Standard for Proposals , and the ring was the wrong kind , it had a nice story that you don’t get from any jeweler , but  helas , no  diamonds , so my intentions and determination could not be taken seriously. I’ll never forget and I’ll never forgive.

I only named this blog Looking Forward , after Crossing America , because many months ago that was all she was doing , looking forward for this , for that , for summer, for the beach , for a new dog , generally looking forward for the beautiful perfect fairy tale of such romantic heights that poets will write songs about it in decades to come. So I needed to look forward too , but I haven’t much . Now not only I’m looking forward again , I’m going forward. I’ll reclaim my dreams , bury this sick , wrong , misplaced , hurtful love that has dragged me down so deep . I will bury it , maybe under a ton of sorrow , remorse , resentment and bitterness but bury it never the less , bury it in the middle of the Ocean tearing up every old vow and making some new ones.

This was the last time I referred to her here.

Being in Las Palmas amongst hundreds of ocean going boats and sailors  gives me a measure of myself again.

I am a legend , and I am going forward.

Last week I went with my crew to Bordeaux , a beautiful city in Western France , down the river Garonne , more famous for wine than boats , yet it features one of the worlds’ biggest catamaran shipyards .

We landed in Paris on a Friday afternoon and I drove straight off despite the fact that the yard would only hand me the boat on Monday and we had been in planes and airports for over 28 hours. I drove for 7 hours straight and got to Bordeaux late at night.

The next morning the boys took to the city with the spirit of the sailor on shore leave in a new harbor , luckily this time they both had their private means so I didn’t have to cover their explorations. I had been to Bordeaux more than once , don’t feel much like company and will have 2 months to live with them anyway , so I let them go , slept in and in the afternoon I wondered by myself around the city , so much prettier than when I was here last , now with a light rail tram running it’s length and breath , the riverfront beautifully spruced up and the buildings cleaned , this being a Saturday lots of people out enjoying the highly unusual warm and sunny weather

I could see my new command on the other side of the river , a new 50ft catamaran , my heart lifted.

I walked for hours along the riverfront and its parks and gardens. The smiling faces , the children , the lovers , the groups of friends , the families, the proud grandparents , caring mothers , watchful fathers , curious boys , lovely little girls, the dogs. At least now I’m reconciled with the idea that I’m not to have a family of my own. “If it was meant to happen it would have happened” . If I don’t wish for the impossible I’ll never be disappointed again.

Night falls , and instinct or reflex tell me to go to the nearest bar , but I don’t. I know well by now that my sorrows have learned to swim , I only spend money , make a fool of myself , smoke damned cigarettes and set myself up for a nasty morning. Getting older is not all bad , you get to know yourself better and become a little , just a little , wiser.

I go back to the hotel and try to watch TV , but I lost the habit a while ago , plus the French practice of dubbing everything makes it impossible to watch a movie or show. I watch the news but Scrubs in French , try to imagine that… I can’t read , I’m wide awake , I toss and turn in bed , my mind in Charleston past and present , this lump in my throat and this feeling of helplessness. It takes me too long to fall asleep. It’s been so long.

The next day Dave flies in from England to see me. It’s now 10 years since we’ve been friends, an unlikely pair at that , in these 10 years we have grown so fond of each other , we know each other so well and helped each other in hard times. Anne says I helped preventing them getting divorced 6 years ago , and they helped me in my darkest hours from thousands of miles away , trying to make me see that I’m worth more than I give myself credit for, that comparing myself to another man is poison to the mind , throwing me the lifeline of my past accomplishments , reminding me of my faded dreams and of all the people who love me and will never betray my trust , urging me to hold my head up. He is one of my oldest and dearest friends and knows the whole story of my love ,but we didn’t speak her name or talked about her once , he still doesn’t know she’s engaged to be married , but knows that I’m not the same , he can see the open wound like only friends can.

Although we hadn’t planned it he will sail with me to the Canary Islands , and I’m happy for it. It’s nice to be able to that for your friends.

Monday early morning I’m at the yard with my boys to take charge of things. Yes , I speak French , yes , I know these boats and yes, I have done this before. I come into my own now , helplessness gone , I have things to do , I do them and Tuesday afternoon I am sailing on the ebb down the Garonne , 30 hours after we joined her , 60 miles to the Atlantic , 1300 to Las Palmas.

I’m not an outstanding Captain but am not a bad one either, or else people would have long ago stopped handing me boats like this one, worth one million dollars , to sail across the Ocean in all weathers.

There are warnings out , gales are brewing and waiting for us in Biscay and Finisterre , but the crew trusts me , I trust the boat , know the waters and am keen on thick weather anyway. Riding storms makes me feel alive , special , and close to my destiny.

So off I go again . Captain of an ocean going sail boat , that’s me , what defines me , it’s  the best I’ll ever make,  the pinnacle of my career ambitions. A childhood dream , no less , and I tend to forget sometimes ….

Still , if I could I  would give it all up in a heartbeat for another chance at  making my Princess happy.
I sometimes wish I never knew what it was to have someone thinking of me and waiting for me on the other shore , because you can’t miss what you never had .

Brett Favre

I know very little about American football. I like to watch , though , and I get the gist of things , I can follow a game , sort of.

Years ago I was in this bar in Bethesda , it must have been Monday , there were a lot of games on. For each drink you had the bartender gave you a number for a raffle. I gathered a few of these and ended up winning a Packers jersey , Brett Favre’s number.

I learned then that they are the only professional team that is owned by the city instead of a corporation or a millionaire. They are also the only team that never left their original city. Also they wear green , like my beloved Sporting Clube de Portugal , and I became an instant fan.

I more or less followed this ordeal of his retiring or not , his struggle between leaving the game or playing at an inferior level. I could see him torn up , fighting against the inevitable , a man gets old , his team moves on , but he loves the game so much that he doesn’t care about scorn ,  criticism or dismissive interpretations, he goes back in , to do what he does , the best he can.

Last week I saw the final minutes of the Vikings vs the 49ers . I have a soft spot for San Francisco and couldn’t care less for Minnesota but when , with few  seconds to go Favre gets the ball , everybody starts running , he feints , turns , looks around , looks forward , places himself just so and hurls the ball clear across , I don’t know , half the field, precisely to the hands of this guy that comes flying in from the left  side , keeping clear of the defender , barely inside the line , catches it, and wins the game…I cheered and felt really happy. It was fantastic .

I’m far from being a good judge of these things , but for me he will always be the best qaurterback ever. Ok , I can only name about 5 quarterbacks , but still , Favre is the man.Legendary.

He is also one of my  images , icons if you will , of America  that predates my falling in love and consequent disgrace , so the Packers and Favre are some of the few things around  that are not wired live and directly to my sweetest and bitterest memories .

And he had words of wisdom for the  Packers fans as they are about to play the Vikings : “It was good , it’s over , let it go”.