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The Sound and the Silence (I wrote this some years ago. I dust it off now because the Malabar X has got my sailing juices flowing again, and because ... well, just because I like the piece.) By Charlie Haeffner Can I go on it, Dad? Huh? Can I? Okay with me, I said, but we gotta ask Mike. And David ... What? You gotta go with me. Awwww, I can handle it alone. Really I can. No sweat. No way, I said. We ask Mike. If he says yes, then well go out. We were at a party
at Keuka Lake -- a half-hour to the west of our Odessa home -- That last was the focus of my teen-aged sons fervent
wishes -- something hed long Grumbling at the restriction, he asked Mike, got permission,
and we headed out onto When we retruned to shore, David shepherding the vessel in,
he was clearly of the Can I go out alone? he asked. Its easy to drive. He had handled himself well on our ride, so I no longer had
serious -- middling, yes, Check with Mike, I said. Yes! he responded, and went in search of our host. Minutes later, with Mikes blessing, David was out on
Keuka alone, powering the I watched from the Gossie dock, still harboring -- despite
myself -- a bit of parental Solitude ... peace and quiet. Everything out there was so loud. Solitude. My thoughts turned inward, turned backward, swam against the tide of noise. There was something ... something I had once loved, something
about the water, What was it ... A vessel of another kind. Of course. No engine, no jets, no noise to speak of. An inherent beauty in its silence. The sailboat. Hmmmm. None out here on Keuka, I thought, scanning the horizon.
Very few on Sad, really, I decided. Sailboats used to mean so much more
in my life; used to reflect Ah, sailboats ... **** The year was 1966. It was a scorching hot summer, hotter than the drought year
of 88, hotter than the We couldnt move. It hurt too much. Our sailboat -- a small model, a Sunfish -- sat anchored in
the still water offshore, Then, one night, it did. And carried through into morning.
It gave some relief, yes -- Across the waters of the lake lay a camp -- a Catholic boys
camp. And on that Nobody saw it happen, but the camp officials, alarmed when
he did not return, soon That was the sight that greeted us when we set foot outside
that day, on the way to And so it was. The diving continued for hours, the breeze
gradually dying, until late Then ... a diver popped up and motioned to the deputies in the boat. They motioned back, and within minutes the divers and deputies
were lifting the The deputies said nothing to us, merely nodded gravely as
they started their engine The lake by then was becalmed, but it didnt matter.
We wouldnt have budged for **** The year was 1968. A girl visiting relatives across Lake 27 swung by our cabin
on a Sailfish twice, giving On a third pass, despite her evident sailing abilities, she
flipped the boat over a few My brother watched from where he was sunning, bathing-suit
clad, on a chaise lounge Moments later, the craft righted, he invited her in for a
drink. I watched all of this As they passed me on the way to the cabin door, the girl looked
my way and, reading I never did learn to like her, nor she me. Not through all their months together. **** The year was 1970. The idea first arose at a college party with a little too much beer. If I were hip, I would say now that reefers were behind it;
but in truth, neither I nor But the image somehow retains a marijuana-like haze. Probably, if my friends and I had pursued our idea, it would
have ended badly. We decided, that night, to live on a sailboat after graduation.
Sailboats were all the Sailboats possessed an earnestness that was inherent in the
growing environmental We were ready that night -- and for a few weeks afterward
-- to disavow most of our We would rise above the Eve of Destruction, above the din
of despair that our There were four of us (two couples) plus an infant, so we
would need sleeping room That would mean a ship of some 40 feet, we figured -- not
of course, knowing how to I recall the initial conversation vaguely. The words have
not carried across the years We will, of course, need jobs of some kind, I said. We can get them at the various ports of call,
said the other male, Richard, a lanky The girls, he added, nodding in the direction
of his wife and my then-wife, can **** No sweat. The words brought me back to Keuka -- my sons words
as he had lobbied to ride the No sweat. Of course, a dream beyond ones means is all sweat, and
generally quite impossible. My friends and I talked about it from time to time as graduation
neared, as though we We kept sporadic contact afterward, but the dream died aborning. I managed several sailing trips in succeeding years -- weekend
and weeklong jaunts But now, decades later, watching the waters of Keuka and a
boy on a jet ski, the There, on the shores of Keuka, I could recall ... smell, inhale
... the essence of sailing **** Hey, Dad! David was cruising in now, slowly approaching the dock, his
face alight with the joy I smiled at him. Can I stay out a little longer? he asked. Sure, I said, figuring -- hoping -- Mike wouldnt mind. Youre doing great. Man, we gotta get one of these, he said, and he
opened the throttle, turned and Ah, dreams, I thought. Maybe theyre more the province
of the young. Maybe thats But that ride I had taken with David was pretty impressive.
Not quiet, for sure. But Maybe dreams die, I reasoned ... but that doesnt mean
that their more reasonably Maybe getting one of these vehicles wouldnt be out of
the realm of reason, I told Maybe, I thought, I could convince my wife that it was a good
idea, a good Maybe David could work on her, too. Maybe ... maybe I could check in with my Mom -- widowed and
living in She was near the water, could smell the salt spray as it carried
in from the Gulf of She likes the water, I told myself. Maybe shed listen. Maybe. After all ... I never had hit her up for the 40-foot sailboat.
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Charles Haeffner P.O. Box 365 Odessa, New York 14869 |