Nor'easter

You know, this is a nothing of a storm, but it is dramatic notnetheless. I drove over the Mt. Hope bridge today and watched standing waves, Whitecaps with a strong wind behind them and an incoming tide. I would not have wanted to be in the water this afternoon, given the alternative. I visited the Herreshoff Museum and met the venerable Halsey Herreshoff there. What a monument to American maritime history, to sailing, to his family. Pish to this minor league storm! There is was, amongst the Fish Class, the Alerions, the 12 and 1/2s. All that salt and cold water over the bow. All that wind, all that beautiful boatbuilding. Americans, at least around here, do not have that moxie any more. I do not have it either, make no mistake. When I look into the funhouse mirror, I do not see myself as fat. Or phat. I see myself at the helm in my oilskins, wheel in hand and riding the bucking seas, whooping like Dr. Strangelove on his atomic bomb, ten gallon hat waving. Yee-hah! High above the ocean waves, where all is still, I look at the sea with impunity, knowing just how lucky that I am. There was a time when I had bile, that I defied the vomitous sea. It is perfectly acceptable to reminisce about this, knowing that those who say the world will end in water are wrong, they had their chance. Now it will be fire, or ice or some other desperate desire.