Drifting

Bobby Radcliff is doin it to it cause I thought some very stimulating UNIVERSAL BLUES would very much stimulate my writing as my hands shake involuntarily to the music.

My last post was about life aboard our sailboat and how we almost became a statistical loss in the famed Bermuda Triangle. I forgot to mention that while the metal monster (aka diesel engine) was broke, the big white sheet attached to the vertical stick in the center of the boat still worked and we could have made port by some tacking like Paul M and I did to get into the Ft Meyers inlet during that little hurricane. But that’s another story.

I have many “another stories” but fear I would lose the few readers I still have (thanks for your support by the way)unless they realize the true value of this posting/blog is often to induce sleep. I often read what I wrote to blend my right ear with my pillow in consequent unconsciousness.

I remember drift fishing with my pal Dave Porter in his 14 ft Boston Whaler (yeah it was a bit small to go out in the ocean, but Dave didn’t care and I was 18 and immortal.  I was bored so I decided to clip my nails.  Of course that was the time the bite of bites hit my rod.  By the time I dropped the clipper whatever giant fish had spit out my unworthy bait and headed for the bottom.  Another time (one of many) the boat broke down and Dave told me to throw out the anchor.  We were fishing on the grassy flats south of Biscayne Bay in about 4 feet of water, hoping not to catch a shark that keep annoying our baits.  I tossed the anchor and was really surprised when the end of the line slipped through my fingers and sank overboard along with the anchor.  We argued for a week who was at fault–the captain who failed to secure the end of the anchor line to the boat or the mate who let it slip through his fingers.  Neither of us was willing to step overboard into the grassy water where great sea monsters awaited tastes of our tender loins.

And now, once again I am drifting through the who knows how many final years of my life and wondering if I should go over the side and seek the anchor.  Some metaphor, huh?Perhaps if I had more energy I would volunteer in some noble cause to help the good people of this beautiful land.  But perhaps not.  I’m not that noble or that dedicated, or even that interested, but I am that TIRED.  I am content with my portion in life.  I had a hellofalot of interesting things happen, some of which I’ll share with those of you who want to read my thoughts, and many of which I will not.  They are mine and my companion’s.  Our private things.

So there!

 

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