829 southdrive

Time To Sail

2012-02-08T19:42:00.000-05:00

After being behind most of the regatta, like 7

other regattas this season , Eli and Ahmad

sailing hull #9, cross the bow of Tom and Wes's

red #3 boat. Right before the finish, Bradshaw's

hiking strap unexpectedly loosened and he slid

halfway into the water, causing their boat to slow.

Luckily, their momentum carried them across in first.

In the final race, Brady and Welker were trailing

Manning on the last leg when they decided to take a

flyer to the right side of the course. A Hail Mary of

sorts, but to no avail. Giselle was heard after the

regatta responding to a heckling crowd at the trophy

presentation and saying bitterly, "Tom can't steer

the f****n boat and crew at the same time!"

Foot Ball

2012-02-06T12:12:00.001-05:00

I know it's just a game, but it's my game. And if watching

something as silly as large men running around holding a

pointy-ended ball and knocking each other down

play after play makes someone happy, then that person

should watch. Beside sailing, this pastime simply makes

me happy. And being happy is good. Even when we lose,

I still am happy having had the opportunity to watch my team.

When we win, it's gravy. And if we win it all, icing on the cake.

Header Photo

2012-02-05T16:27:00.001-05:00

To answer a couple questions: L to R, Baydog,

cousins Cahil and Adam, and brother Hans.

The boat we're sitting on is not anywhere near as

classic as a Sneakbox.

It was a Scorpion, a Sunfish knockoff that my

Uncle Gordy rented for that summer.

The Penguin behind us on the dolly was Dad's

'Vapor', 5158. I'm not sure if it was Beaton-

built, or Wright-built out of Philadelphia. This

photo was taken from the dock at 829. If

you look closely, you can see Metedeconk

River Yacht Club just off the bottom batten.

Now Wassail, 8839, was a Beaton that my Dad

had built for him. I put in a good amount of time

on this boat until I got too big to be Dad's crew.

As lately as 2010, 8839 was being sailed on the Severn River.

Man would I love to buy her back some day!

Doug

2012-02-04T23:46:00.000-05:00

I love this guy like a brother. He was on the way home tonight

from Long Island where he got his transmission fixed.

He lives in Virginia. But he knew somebody who in turn knows

somebody who could do it for cheap. And I convinced him to stop

and have dinner on his way home. He's staying over because it

would not benefit him to sit behind the wheel at this point. I tried

that when I was 19 and it didn't work out too well.

So happy to have you, man.

Tactician

2012-02-04T00:28:00.000-05:00

"They're kinda close-hauled to be trying to

set that spinnaker, no?" That may have been

the last instance in which I wore a life jacket.

And take a look at that thing!

My Hemingway

2012-01-30T00:02:00.001-05:00

Larger than life, I present to you Charley Best. Superlative.

He lives life to the fullest (pardon the trite phrase but it fits,

Goddammit). A pure Jersey boy through and through, he

graduated from Manasquan High School before, after, or

with Jack Nicholson among others. I can't remember if I

asked him that particular question and frankly, it don't matter.

This guy is the mildest-mannered, friendliest, and one of the

most pleasant people you would want to sit on the porch

and shoot the shit with. Between Beaton's and the Florida Keys,

he sails his catboat, rides his Harley, and fishes all year long.

He's quite proficient with his film editing, and cooks up a storm

from what I gather. Since it doesn't look like I'm visiting Florida

any time soon, I'm looking forward to his Northern migration

sometime this mid-May. You still have 3+ months down there,

Sandscraper. Make the best of them.

Icing On The Cake

2012-01-29T00:25:00.000-05:00

We had a small gathering of friends last Sunday to

watch the Giants and 49ers. We asked everyone to

bring something. Pete brought some boneless ribs.

And his keyboard. It quickly became "stand in with

Pete". It was brilliant, and it was all his doing.

I love that guy. And yes, that's Metamucil.

I don't know if we can ever have another party without

him. I'm afraid he may start charging a cover. This last

number came seconds after the winning field goal.

Funny, before anyone arrived that day I said to my wife,

"I wish we had a piano in this house".

Go Figure

2012-01-28T11:10:00.000-05:00

And The Winner Is.............

2012-01-27T00:11:00.001-05:00

The new and improved Tall Oaks Yacht Club burgee. I like it.

Sewn by North Flags, it's so stiff, it won't droop when there's no

wind. But no worries, this is the Barnegat Bay we're talking about.

By the way, according to the TOYC website, there are only 53

days 'til Spring. Geeze, I'd better get down there and

winterize the head soon.

More than I could ask for

2012-01-23T01:57:00.000-05:00

Gravy

It's gonna be a helluva long two weeks.

But that's okay. Could be worse.

Eat Sopa

2012-01-19T00:49:00.000-05:00

Fondue

2012-01-15T20:08:00.023-05:00

Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair, Eli

Cruz control

On a Rolle

Now it's off to the natural amphitheater that is Candlestick Park.

Just Win Baby!

2012-01-15T10:50:00.000-05:00

Cats and Canoes

2012-01-12T23:03:00.000-05:00

Bottom Paint

2012-01-11T23:55:00.000-05:00

Friggin' in the Riggin'

2012-01-11T23:33:00.002-05:00

Just Cruisin' Around the Harbor

2012-01-11T23:32:00.000-05:00

Old Bay Head, New Jersey

2012-01-09T00:02:00.000-05:00

Turn of the century kids playing in the sand by a dock

somewhere in Bay Head, New Jersey. The Twentieth

Century, that is.

An actual organ grinder, with a monkey! I can just imagine the kids

running down the lane, giggling, with fresh scrapple in their hands!

The Breeches Buoy, a mainstay device for rescuing shipwreck

survivors back in the day. These days you can ride one through

a rainforest on an eco-tour and pay a healthy sum to do so.

A surfboat being re-set for a future rescue call.

Sneakboxes racing off the main dock at Bay Head Yacht Club.

To this day they have a somewhat strict dress code on Yacht Club

premises. I can't recall ever wearing slacks on a dock in the

summer. Or shoes for that matter.

Now this is more my and my ancestors' speed.

The upper Metedeconk. My neck of the woods, well before

I ever had a neck. My predecessors likely had some more

dirt under their fingernails than the fancier clad folk lining the

main dock at BHYC. And that's just fine by me.

Quinoa

2012-01-08T11:22:00.000-05:00

Souse

2012-01-08T01:00:00.000-05:00

Jambon

2012-01-06T20:12:00.000-05:00

Salad is Good For You

2012-01-05T21:09:00.001-05:00

Unless you plop a big honkin' piece of chicken fried pork belly

crouton, as Michael Ruhlman calls it, on top. Some foods, when

I read about them, make my salivary glands go into overdrive.

There is a bowl directly beneath my chin right now.

This chunk of pork belly will have been braised, or confited,

leaving the meat extremely tender, and its fat on the edge of

liquid. By coating this chunk with flour, eggwash, and panko

crumbs and then deep frying, the result is a crunchy

exterior enveloping a core of molten fat and the most tender

pig meat you've ever come upon. It's not an everyday meal,

but one that you must try at least once. Grated cheese optional.

I'm sure the dressing is phenomenal, but after the pork belly, the

salad is the garnish.

Cricket

2012-01-04T15:31:00.000-05:00

Just Win Baby!

2012-01-01T14:31:00.000-05:00

It's too early to clean out the lockers just yet.

Holiday Traditions

2011-12-27T10:32:00.000-05:00

When it comes to Uni, no rice or seaweed needed.

I was so excited about the Pho, I couldn't see clearly.

You really get a good Bang Pho the buck there. Sorry.

Wurst fabric, best gelato.

Great-Grandson of Russ.

Daughters in front of Russ & Daughters.

Merry Christmas Friends!

2011-12-24T22:43:00.001-05:00

Christmas Eve was never complete without this

very book. I will be reading aloud this evening.

With every new page, Santa and his reindeer would change looks.

Grandma was very creative and it kept things interesting.

I could never understand how people had Christmas in Florida

when there was no snow. How could there be Christmas

without snow, Charlie Brown?

Talk about someone finding their true life's calling

in their 70's. She's right up there with Wyeth and

Rockwell as far as originality, if you ask me.

You can vote any way you want. But Merry Christmas!

Just Because

2011-12-23T01:52:00.004-05:00

Sublime. I may not be able to sleep tonight.

Blue Blazer

2011-12-22T00:38:00.000-05:00

Museum docent or NBC page, I had the look: Blue blazer

with blue cotton oxford button down, and a striped tie.

Classic yacht club attire, and since it was after Labor Day,

dark slacks- no khakis. Hans was still in Good Humor man

mode. Hey, ice cream is a year-round treat. We were no

doubt ready to go to a Christmas Eve service, and it looks

like Mom took the bottom strand of gingerbread man cookies

from the tree and hung them around the kitchen doorframe.

Dachshunds love gingerbread man cookies.

Foiled again! They'll slip up eventually. They're only human.

It's All About the Barnegat Bay

2011-12-20T00:17:00.000-05:00

If you looked across the bay at this point and then to the right,

North about 200 yards, you'd see the familiar Beaton's skyline.

This Mantoloking family was, and still is in my mind, one of the

most familiar and recognizable presences on Barnegat Bay.

That lime green Penguin gave me and my Dad fits for several

years on the Bay and around Region II. Those Lasers were no

doubt sub-1000 in the hull number department. And the Duck

Boat? I wouldn't even venture a guess.

These brothers made mincemeat of the bay for years, and the

skipper sails to this day in an E-scow. He's won scores of

regattas, local and national. I love the wooden deck on this M

and how far forward the whisker pole was set. I know they grew

up in Manasquan, but I wonder where Billy got the red jersey.

It reminds me of my school's colors, a school that was and is a

fierce rival of the Warriors in the next town over.

There must've been a big regatta coming up. Skip, far right,

provided the rig and the other skippers figured if they brought

the Rheingold, they could pile on for the trip. Who ever stacks

M-scows on trailers? Besides Skip?

And on the roof-top as well?

Should We Worry?

2011-12-18T21:26:00.003-05:00

The man sitting in the Adirondack chair is playing games with my

head. He'd taken a break from blogging just before THXG and

gone on holiday in the Caribbean. He'd done this in the past, and

upon returning he'd posted stories of his experiences on the idyllic

isle of Virgin Gorda. He wrote about rum drinks, sailing Hobie

sailboats, and feeling fulfilled after sailing with Tillerwoman.

This year, he's been very tight-lipped about the whole vacation

thing and frankly, I'm a bit concerned. I (we all) were expecting

a full, entertaining, and insightful report on the goings on down there

at 18 degrees 30' 17" N , and 64 degrees 21' 19" W.

He and the other dude who I consider to be my Blidols (blogging

idols), have not been very fruitful in the posting department as of

late and I wonder what this may mean. Say it isn't so.

Just Because

2011-12-15T23:58:00.000-05:00

Went Down To Tuck The Boat In

2011-12-14T01:07:00.000-05:00

Every year I say, "I'm gonna replace those crooked, cheap-ass

black registration numbers with some nice, fake, gold-leaf numbers.

I'll use a straight edge and tape measure. Then next spring, we get

down to the boat two weeks later than we planned, to paint and

buff, and have to go home early because the alarm is going off or

some dumb-ass reason, and ........... I wonder if anyone even

looks at those registration numbers.

Telephone pole: crooked. Bay Rhumb and the next two boats:

plumb. Fourth boat: bow-down and will have frozen rain-water

at the bow 'til March. It's already rained hard a few times and I've

had great drainage on-deck. One thing I need not worry about

this winter. Sugarplums dancing now.

The way home. Sunset in Cream Ridge, 4:45 pm.

Man, it gets dark early!

Don't Celebrate Too Long

2011-12-12T00:45:00.001-05:00

A must win was won. Now back to the grindstone. If teeth had skin,

the Jints won by it. Cheers to Big Blue for not giving up.

3 more wins and we'll talk about the "P" word. Good night for now.

There may even be visions of sugarplums dancing in my head.

Retrospect

2011-12-11T01:05:00.004-05:00

9 years old and an E-scow veteran. Dad, time to pass

me back my cigar. And I hope you didn't goob it up.

14 and already letting Mike the Jibman and my Stepmom

untangle the spinnaker for the next race. Because you know,

when you're fourteen you know everything and are responsible

for nothing.

Hiking more than Jill but less than Mike. Hey, he was heavily

recruited and she had the job automatically. This is all tongue-

in-cheek of course, and points out how a kid who grows up

sailing with his parents from the git-go can sometimes become

disenchanted with the glamour of racing sailboats morning and

afternoon every summer Saturday since Richard Nixon was

elected President of the United States.

By this point in 1986, I had re-acquired my appreciation for

the grind of the BBYRA racing schedule. I was such a big

guy that Bob decided to eliminate the fourth crewmember,

and since backstays were at that point a thing of the past,

um well, we were good. And still a little heavy.

Rome Layover

2011-12-10T01:21:00.000-05:00

Watch this only if you have fifteen minutes.

I've watched this program two or three times and there is no other
food show on TV that makes me want to get up and frickin eat
something as much as this one. Tony Bourdain speaks my
language, and has for many years. Every Single Effing Place he
goes makes me squirm and wish I were there.

This pizza guy, Gabriele Bonci, is someone I want to meet. I want to
hug him, kiss him on each cheek, and spend the whole day with him.
He is so passionate about his craft. His pizzas look extraordinary.
And the rice croquettes with the egg yolks? (sorry O Docker) They
look positively mind-blowing. He's a big guy like me, and someone
with whom I can identify. Really, I feel like I've known this guy
for a long time. His place is not far from the Vatican. I wish I had
known this in '05.

In June 2005, after an all-night flight from Newark and a quick
nap in the hotel, we made our way to St. Peter's Square to see the
Pope. Afterward, we found the closest pizza joint to grab something
to eat. They boasted NY style pizza. I was too tired and hungry to
protest. I should have. And after seeing this episode the other
night, I would have agreed to venture a bit further.

Sailing Jones

2011-12-08T00:59:00.001-05:00

It's been only a month since the boat's been on the hard. Forked

River is directly across the bay from Barnegat Inlet, then North

a touch. I haven't even winterized the head and pressure water

yet, and I'm already verklempt. The State Marina wants their

money for next summer though, and if it's not in by 12/31, we're

up Oyster Creek without a paddle. At least the water is warm

from the power plant there. Doh!

Winter is great. I love snow and skiing on top of it. I think I'm

more in my element then because I can deal with extreme cold

much easier than oppressive heat. But there's something about

Summer. I grew up around a lot of cousins who taught me how

to catch a crab in a net, how to seine for bait, how to dive off the

piling on the end of the catwalk, and how to get a hot dog on the

patio before they were all gone. Apparently in this photo I hadn't

learned that lesson yet. But there was plenty of time for that.

I can't wait for Summer.

The Infamous Day/All Things Gray

2011-12-07T00:34:00.005-05:00

A relative of mine, of whom I was very fond, was a 23 year-old

sailor on the USS Oklahoma in Pearl Harbor this day, 70 years ago.

When the three torpedoes hit, Marshel Moorhouse and his mates

scrambled up 5 decks to the supposed safety of the main deck.

During their journey, or upon reaching their destination, the ship

listed, then rolled over, spilling hundreds of her sailors into the

harbor. "Pud" Moorhouse swam through burning oil slicks for

the better part of two hours before reaching safety.

Days later, he and some fellow sailors were commended by

Admiral Chester Nimitz for their brave and heroic actions.

Years later, Pop Pop neither chose to revisit Pearl Harbor on

any anniversary, nor did he care to rehash any terrifying memories.

And he was perfectly fine with that, from what I gathered .

We finally got our new French Drains dug after the Hurricane Irene

debacle. With two sump pits and a 5000 watt generator for an

emergency, I'm confident we'll have no more water in the basement.

After the cement dried, the final step was to paint the floor, which I

started to do today. The color was a no-brainer: Battleship Gray.

(They actually called it slate gray) Looks like Battleship to me.

Painting the floor is the frickin' easiest thing to do. No drop-cloths,

no worries about drips from the roller, and the inevitable millions

of spatter specks that come from the roller fall where? To the floor.

I kept thinking about the fo'c's'le floor of the Intrepid and how if

it's good enough for an aircraft carrier, it's good enough for

my basement. I may even paint my oil tank red with a brass top.

Even Putt Putt had a gray interior. Shit, my Dad and Uncles

painted the oars gray as well. Note the oar leathers fastened

with brass tacks. She wasn't always rowed; there was a 3 HP

Johnson that moved me and my cousin through the gunners'

ditches that we explored every weekend like we'd never

seen any of them before. Looks like 'Vision', Dad's Lightning,

was on the mooring ball in the background. I was sporting my

white boating 'Stride Rites', and ready to row.

Caption Contest

2011-12-05T21:14:00.001-05:00

A well-worn NYG T-shirt will be sent to the

reader with the best caption. Sure-fire recipe

for no comments. BTW, the T-shirt will be clean.

Recipe. Get it?

Go Get 'Em Tigers!

2011-12-03T10:59:00.000-05:00

Princeton plays USC today in the first game, then UCLA and

UC San Diego go at it. It's the second time in three years for

Tim and the Princeton Tigers to be in the Final Four.

Come on guys, we know you can do it!

Just Because

2011-12-01T20:35:00.009-05:00

Sure-fire plan to get no comments. "Here goes Baydog

again reliving his youth. He probably had too many

cocktails and went on Youtube." And Charley, it was

well before midnight this time!

Trivia question that I don't know the answer to:

How many classic bands had someone playing the

flute? I can think of three immediately. Include

the titles of some obvious songs in which these

flautists displayed their talents. Hint: I've posted
music clips from all of these three bands in the past,
although the flute may not have been present in all
of the songs. And there's no doubt there are more
bands than my immediate three. Someone may get
a prize, but I'll probably forget like the last time.

And sorry Mom for ending a sentence in a preposition.

A Random Post

2011-11-30T01:06:00.001-05:00

In this season of the onset of Presidential primaries and the

attention that will be paid to popularity polls and the like, I heard

the Gallup Poll mentioned the other day and immediately thought

about my personal connection to that Ivory Tower of American

opinion research. Alec Gallup was a regular customer of ours

for decades before I was able to say "ours". He was a grizzly

bear of a man, but as kind and self-effacing as the day was long.

The Gallup Organization was started in Princeton in the thirties,

and well after it was acquired in the late eighties by a Nebraskan,

with whom I am also familiar, and who insisted many times on

smoking cigars in the restaurant by the way, Alec and his close

associates came often for lunch around 1 pm. He did his best

to uphold the 3 Martini lunch, although if he made it past 2 it

was unusual. Soup was the appetizer almost always, and

entrees varied. One thing I'll never forget was him asking about

the accompanying vegetables on a given plate. " I don't like sticks.

I don't want any sticks on my plate." Julienne vegetables.

My two favorite memories of him were these: watching the 2000

vice presidential debate between Joe Lieberman and Dick Cheney

in the back of our bar, near the mens' room where our little TV was.

He was going back and forth between the private room where the

Gallup Org. was having dinner and the mens' room where the TV was.

Sitting on a wine crate watching at the same time was Arthur

Schlesinger, who was attending another PU function upstairs.

And then there was me. Picking my nose.

The second memory is actually more meaningful, because it does

not involve politics, but flavor. Alec was sitting at the bar waiting

for his dinner guests one night and decided to have some steamed

clams to hold him over. Upon finishing the clams, he asked Chris

to take the buttery broth in the bowl and pour it into a glass, and

make a spicy bloody mary on top of it. Chris asked him if he had a

name for this drink and Alec quickly replied, "the clamdigger!"

This man was as old school as they come and I'm fortunate

for him to have known me, even if it was just as a servant.

OFD WKND '11

2011-11-27T21:36:00.010-05:00

Sunset on Greenwich Cove, on OFD. It's one of the many things

we do routinely that day. Hors d'Oeuvres and drinks upon

arrival around noon, family photo around 3ish, then hem and haw

about taking a walk, then take the walk in staggered starts walking

assorted dogs, invariably winding up all together at the end of the

street down by the cove. This year it was low tide, and the clams,

mussels, and oysters were all exposed for some neat beachcombing.

Gravlax, oysters, cheeses, smoked fish spread, tuna tartare,

dried fruits, olives, pickled herring, and candied nuts were out

for nibbling. Every year someone says, "Next year we should

just have hors d'Oeuvres and forget dinner." Yeah, right.

Friday morning saw bagels just out of the oven with chive cream

cheese and the scantest amount of leftover salmon. One look out

the back porch and we knew we'd been around the wine world

the night before. Mojo lovingly refers to this photo as the 'class

of 2011'. There were dogends in the ashtray, suggesting

that we may have had a smoke or two as well.

On to Vermont the next day to recuperate from the

overindulgence of the day before. We dressed loudly to

be easily seen by the local hunters, and ventured into

the woods to cut down fresh Christmas trees for $5

each. Some of the garments are from the 70's.

Careful with that chainsaw, Grampa.....

Very funny. Now put the saw away, Charlie Brown.

Four Wiener Drive. She would have been

pissed if she were left at home.

Grampa felled his tree, then kept the top ten

or so feet of it. Ironically, after his tree was

out of the way, the tree behind it was the best

specimen we'd seen all day.

We came out of the woods about a hundred yards down the

road from where we went in. In the process, we sank in a slushy

bog 'til our boots were filled with ice water and we had to kind of

chainsaw our way out to the road. There was hot soup on the

stove when we got home though, and soon all hardships

were forgotten. All that and a five dollar tree. Priceless.

2011-11-23T16:47:00.001-05:00

Travel safely and enjoy being with the those

who mean the most to you. Happy Thanksgiving!

OFD '71

2011-11-22T00:41:00.004-05:00

1971 was a weird year for me and my nuclear family,

but come Thanksgiving, much was done to keep things

as normal as possible. And I'm thankful for that. Don

became our family Father figure that day, and also

was the consummate family videographer, way before

the word videographer became commonplace. These few

clips I'm sharing with you all are priceless to us and reveal

some very traditional goings on around our bunch on the

most meaningful of days: Thanksgiving. Way before

Facebook, Uncle Don came up with his own acronymal

expression for Thanksgiving and spraypainted it (I'm

thinking it may have been Easy-Off) on the half-bow

window of his family room, nee garage. What a

creative place on which to declare the title of his

holiday film! Decades later,

THXG took the place of TGNG. IKR? LOL!

Lunch on the deck before the annual Thanksgiving

Day backyard brawl that would ensue well before

the sandwiches were digested. My brother and I were

literally inhaling our food, especially Hans to the right.

At one point I stood up to make a point, but was

quickly told to sit the hell down by my cousin Mojo.

"If you're gonna talk the talk, you better

walk the walk", he said.

And walk the walk I did. Immediately after Mojo caught

the pass from Hans, I threw his ass down like a sack of

knob celery. Then my long bomb to Julie, which burned

Hans like a piece of Pumpernickel, sealed the game-

winning drive. There's nothing like football on OFD.

Sailing Hats are Cooler

2011-11-20T00:42:00.000-05:00

Helmets are for pointy and motorcycles.

The Root of our Family Tree

2011-11-18T20:40:00.001-05:00

Celeriac, otherwise known as Knob Celery, has been

the root of our family tree longer than I've been around.

OFD is when we all enjoy it in a salad made very much

like German Potato Salad. In fact it's virtually identical,

except that the knobs are used in place of boiled potatoes.

And the keeper of the tradition (Mom) includes chicory

leaves for garnish and texture. They're tangy and add a

slight crunch. They happen to be my favorite part.

It's a grotesque looking vegetable, with roots and knobs

protruding in all directions, and I imagine most folks are

just plain scared to tackle the thing. The stalks resemble

celery, but are more tough and bitter than their cousins.

The prize is definitely the bulbous root. The whole root

is boiled in salted water in its jacket 'til tender, cooled,

and then peeled and cubed. Next step is to toss the cubes

in a simple vinaigrette with thinly sliced onions and chicory

and left to sit, marinating. Close to service is when

mayonnaise is folded in, although not too much, just enough

to coat all involved, and then salt and pepper to taste.

It's a cold side dish to an otherwise warm array of

accompaniments (except for cranberries which I don't

dislike but have never found a use for on THXG).

You'll find yourself raiding the fridge early Thanksgiving

Friday morning, in your underwear, eating it from the

tupperware with a fork, alternating bites with tugs of

cold milk straight from the jug.

Starting to Give Thanks Early

2011-11-18T00:55:00.000-05:00

Where do I start? In no particular order of importance,

because that would be impossible to decide, I

present you two men. Two men who have been in my

life who, in somewhat similar ways, have influenced me

in their own subtle style. I say subtle because neither

of them was ever brash or boastful, overbearing or

obnoxious, but instead quiet, sensitive, sensible, and

responsible for the well-being of their beloved families.

My memory of them keeps me humble and focused

on being a good provider and a loving father.

Here's my Uncle Don, Mom's big brother, in 1949 rowing

his scull on Carnegie Lake in Princeton. Let's not get too

excited - he was a Yale man through and through, but he

was a Jersey boy first, and I think Grampa bought 'Geridum'

from somebody around there for him. Please correct me if

I'm wrong, Mojo. It's too late to call and I really want to

post this. You'll get your 15 minutes later. Just comment.

Joseph George Jomo came from humble beginnings,

not unlike so many from his generation. He worked hard

and became successful, and in turn provided extremely

well for his wife and two children. He always made time

for his kids. My mother beams when she speaks of him.

Don couldn't have had a bigger supporter.

I've always wanted my girls to feel the same about me.

I think so far I'm on the right track. That dedication to his

family carried over to the next generation, and my

cousins, brother and sister, and I have been fortunate

to benefit from his vision and generosity. These two men

are always missed at the table, which has now grown

tremendously big on Thanksgiving Day.

Assorted Penguin Guano

2011-11-15T00:18:00.000-05:00

Okay, maybe it does blow on Cooper River. Just goes to show

you to keep plugging even if you don't get a bullet.

Staten Island Penguin racing 1973.

Dad and Jill sailing 8839 in the Port half of the photo.

The cunningham is a little loose for the start, no?

Some pointers ala 'The Penguin Patter-1979'.

A couple of collegiate sailing team announcements

as well. It's always fun to see who's going where.

Influence

2011-11-14T22:11:00.013-05:00

Often, children of sailors don't have the choice of whether or not to

come along on the weekend for a day on the bay, often being

dragged by their hair or threatened by not having computer access

later that evening. We have a couple of dear friends that we've

known for 25 years who have embraced and come to love the

sport of sailing through windsurfing and cruising on our boats during

the course of those years. In turn, their 14 year old daughter has

virtually grown up around us with our daughters, all sailing together

summer after summer.

This fall, Rebecca had a writing assignment for her ninth grade

Humanities/English class, and chose to write about her experience

on Chesapeake Bay a few summers ago. Thanks to her parents

Meghan and Dennis, she got the opportunity to learn the basics of

sailing, and then some, through the Annapolis Sailing School.

Following is her essay describing that experience and I have to say

I'm very impressed, and even more so, honored and proud to have

made such an impression on our great friends' daughter.

Most people don’t usually to go to school in the summer, but then most people don’t consider sailing school an actual school. I have to admit that before my vacation in Annapolis, I hadn’t either. I’d been in a sailboat before; the one my Uncle Dave and Aunt Ellen owned since I was a toddler. My cousin Livvie and I spent time hanging over the pulpit, doing our reenactment of the famous Titanic movie scene. We would also spend the day popping in and out of hatches, and holding onto the cables as we jumped into the water at Tices Shoal. Still, I never imagined the actual sailing of the boat was really that difficult. Uncle Dave made it look easy. That was my first mistake.

The first days in Annapolis were miserable and overshadowed by dark hazy clouds that hung like mist around the marina. I was furious with my parents at the time. Why was I in school in July? This was a vacation, really? On top of that it was an awful day, especially for sailing. The air was still, sticky, and thick enough to choke on. I pouted like a little kid and stood glaring at all the boats as if it were their fault I was here instead of on a warm sandy beach.

To my surprise I discovered that I wouldn’t even get to go in a sailboat until I had passed an exam. It really was like school! When I first caught drift of the exam, I began to get even angrier. I admit I was also a little nervous. What if I didn’t pass? Would I still be allowed to go sailing? The questions, nerves, and frustrations bounced around in my head for a few long minutes. Then the instructor came over and introduced himself as Mark.

He looked like a high school kid, maybe nineteen. I shook his hand glumly as he grinned excitedly. I dimly wondered where all the other students were. My mom told me there was supposed to be at least four other people taking the course along with me. Paying no attention to my thoughts, Mark led me to the “classroom.” I say classroom because it was really just a glorified shed. Inside were some chalkboards and a couple of desks that looked like they might’ve been there longer than Mark had been alive. Nevertheless, I got very acquainted with that room. This was especially true because, as it happened, I was the only student in my class.

First my instructor asked me what I knew about sailing. I told him the truth. I said that I had been on sailboats all my life and that I knew what they did, but not much else. He seemed amused, maybe at my lack of knowledge? Anyway, he told me I was going to have to learn some basics about sailing before I went out and actually got to sail. He got started putting some notes on the board while I wistfully looked out the open door and into the shimmering Chesapeake Bay, the sun was finally out and I was inside a classroom. This was going to be a long summer.

As the days went on I found the class less irritating. I was even learning most of the things he taught me. First, Mark taught me all the names of everything on a sailboat. I learned which side is starboard, what a dagger board does, how to steer a rudder, and a million other things I had never even thought about before.

After I learned about emergency procedures (such as how to turn a sailboat around if someone falls off), we were almost ready to go out on the water. I only had to pass my written boating exam before any real sailing happened. As I sat in the classroom and watched the other sailboats drift by, the cross breeze filled me with anticipation. The clear blue skies and the wind were calling me; I felt even more determined to pass that test.

Even though I was stuck in class for weeks, I wasn’t always learning. Some days were spent on my back lazily looking at the clouds as windsurfers and jet skiers zoomed by without a care in the world. More often then not Mark and I goofed off. We played hockey with a tennis ball and some old yardsticks we found, messed with the big expensive boats, and wandered into the Wet Dog Café to get some sandwiches for lunch. When the heat got really unbearable, we even jumped in the bay!

However, I was the happiest when I finally took my test and passed with flying colors. I’d finally get to do what I’d been itching to do; go sailing. Mark laughed at my enthusiasm as I ran out on the dock gazing deliciously at all the options. Since I was a beginner, we used a laser, but that was fine with me. Lasers were cool little boats meant for fast paced sailing.

I suddenly remembered something my Uncle Dave told me about lasers. He told me that these sailboats have their own unique number printed on them. The numbers stand for the order in which they were made. The very first one started at number 100 and the oldest one my Uncle ever owned was number 802. I glanced up at the number on the laser in front of me, 49,264.

Mark rigged the sail. We got into our bright life vests and got busy setting up the various lines. At first it was easy going, not too fast as we eased out of the marina. When we were far enough out, Mark pulled the sail tighter and we gain some more speed. I loved the howling winds and the salty smell of bay water. My body buzzed in thrill when the boat tipped so close to the water that my face was merely inches away. Even so, the bobbing of the boat and the constant sound of the gentle waves made me feel right at home.

For a few days, I focused solely on steering the rudder. It took some time to get used to the fact that rudders steer the boat the opposite of the way I moved it. So when I turned it left, the boat turned right, and vise versa. To practice, I spent hours just aiming and running over fluorescent little buoy markers. Soon, it was like riding a bike; second nature and I hardly thought about what I was doing at all.

For the next couple of weeks, Mark would control the rudder and I would jibe and tack. I was a little nervous about messing up all the lines, but since we were using a laser there weren’t that many lines to keep track of. I was thankful for that because a lot of the time, I struggled with tangles of lines and dealt with the jittery flapping of a loose sail mocking me. Soon I got the hang of it and I didn’t need Mark to tell me what to do. I even started getting a feel for where the wind was coming from and what I needed to adjust on the boat. Every time Mark and I returned to the dock we were exhausted, but happily satisfied with the days progress.

Even though I loved sailing, there were definitely days where I hated being out on the water. Some days the blistering heat blared down on us making us sweaty and wretched. Some days the air was so humid and still the boat would hardly move an inch. There were also days where the water was rough and unforgiving, the weather stormy and cold. I distinctly remember capsizing at least once or twice.

In the middle of August, Mark had to go back to college, and I was assigned a new instructor. Her name was Anna and I really liked her. We only got a few days to sail with each other, but we laughed and joked like long lost friends. On my last day, I was really excited to get in one more good sail before I went back home. The excitement was bittersweet though, because I was also sad that I wouldn’t be able to got out sailing whenever I wanted after this.

The wind was pretty good that day and we actually went out farther than usual. Unfortunately, as night approached the wind became nonexistent and we were left drifting inch by measly inch. For a while Anna and I just laid on the boat finding our situation amusing in a cynical kind of way. We talked a while laughing, as we stared up at the moon and listened to the black waves lapping against our boat.

Soon after, we got out the oars and began paddling the long way back. During the way, I found myself thinking about how amazing this experience had been. It had been such a frustrating and exhilarating summer full of new experiences. I would not soon forget my time in summer school. Some nights when I lie awake in bed and close my eyes, I can still feel the rocking motion of the waves and I remember that summer on the Chesapeake.

I'm so proud.

Sailors' Helpers

2011-11-14T00:39:00.005-05:00

I don't quite know when the name of it forever changed

from shock cord to 'bungee'. I think it was sometime in

the 80's when people, many of them boaters, stopped

using cotton or nylon cordage to tie their boats or kayaks

or sailboards to their roofracks. Their granny knots didn't

always hold, and here and there you would see Laser

mast sections rolling along the shoulder of the NJ Turnpike,

often going as fast as you were. Tie-down straps, along

with bungees, became the go-to cartopping fasteners. Feed

the end of the strap through the buckle, honk it down,

hide the loose end somewhere, and then bungee

anything else that remains. Hooks on both ends of the

bungee made it convenient for any schmo
(blogger underlined in red my compound word 'roofracks'
but said nothing about the word schmo) to quickly
secure any last minute accessory in order to make it
home without having spars rolling on the NJTP shoulder.

I'm not sure where the word 'bungee' came from. And I
for once did not ask Mr. Google. And please don't go
there and report back to me. I really don't care, for a
change. I think some Australian Outback dude invented the
word 'bungee' while wrestling a crocodile. "Hee-yah,
hand me a bungee, mate! The bigga the betta!"
Speaking of Google, my kids have virtually no
idea of what the Dictionary is. Oh yeah, it's that big, thick,
dusty red book on the bookshelf with the little cut-outs
on the side where the letters are. Dictionary.com my ass.

Shock cord was and is often used to keep the bitter
ends of the traveler or barber hauler lines from getting
tangled in something else, or maintaining a taut hiking strap
or keeping a daggerboard from slipping down the trunk
on a Laser. We bought it from a spool, sold by the foot,
and melted the cut ends with a match. And if we didn't
have the cash to pay for it, we filled out a withdrawal
slip and walked into the bank lobby to get it.

Andy Rooney passed away this week. I think he called
it shock cord too. I doubt he had a debit card.
And I know for a fact he used the Dictionary. I Googled it.

While My Guitar Gently Weeps: Take Two

2011-11-12T01:37:00.000-05:00

Thanks to Tweezerman for the Music clip on
his blog. That song instantly evoked memories of
listening to the boxed record set of the Bangladesh
concert in Madison Square Garden that I somehow
acquired and played endlessly on my Hi-Fi. The
only images I could view of this event were on the
included album program inside the box. Doofus
plastered half of them on his dorm room walls and then
in turn threw them away after the semester.

This is one of the few remaining photos clinging to life in the torn

and frayed boxed album.

I put my name on the album cover in case one of my

entrepreneurial dorm mates wanted to

steal this future collector's item.

Apple label. It would have been worth something

if the box weren't squashed and irreparable.

However, this may bring some Deutsche Marks.

Mojo will jump all over this when we show up on OFD.

I'm looking forward to the spirituals and a glass of spirits.

One more from the amazing Bangladesh concert.

Unhappy Valley

2011-11-10T20:44:00.007-05:00

I'm speechless. Penn State Football has been such a huge interest

of mine ever since childhood. It started with my Dad being a

freshman there in the 50's. I automatically, to this day, check on

Sunday to see how PSU did the day before if I didn't already know.

Rosey Grier was a student/athlete there when my Dad was a

frosh. I don't know if he had acquired his love for needlepoint

at that time yet, but he played well enough to become a New York

Giant. And he was held highly enough to be Ethel Kennedy's

bodyguard. Too bad he wasn't RFK's that night.

From what I understand, Lenny Moore, being a couple years older

than Dad and living on the same floor of his dorm, bought beer for

Dad and his friends. Stuff like that doesn't happen any more though.

The Baltimore Colts thought enough of him to give him a job.

He wound up getting the hang of football and had a decent career.

Franco Harris came to the restaurant a bunch of years ago and

sat in a very accessible area with a large group of people. Toward

the end of the evening, our bartender approached him to get his

autograph and mentioned that our chef was from the same

hometown as Franco in South Jersey (Rancocas Valley).

Way larger than life, Franco stood in the kitchen doorway

and shook all of our hands and made small talk that he really

didn't have to make. I was amazed at his stature; he never really

appeared on TV to be very tall, but he towered over me in person.

A couple years later I would be again dwarfed by Derek Jeter

at the front desk, but that is another story.

Penn State Football will never be the same. More seriously,

it's a crime and a tragedy what happened with that assistant coach

and the bunch of boys just looking for some guidance and insight

from a man who was for so long associated with such a storied

and legendary coach. Joe had to go. It had to happen.

Implicated or not, he knew too much not to put a stop to this

years ago. Actually that does implicate him.

Shame on you, Joe. I'm speechless.

Accidental Visitors

2011-11-09T09:21:00.000-05:00

Once in a while I check the real-time view on Feedjit,

just to see where readers are coming from and more

interestingly, if and what they googled to arrive here.

Lately, the most popular google is 'fried chicken'.

I actually used this photo in a post last year, and may

have mentioned fried chicken once or twice, but I

think it's kinda funny. If you google image 'fried chicken'

you will undoubtedly have an instant craving. Wow,

some unbelievably enticing photos.

Some of the recent visitors have been from Ontario,

Tacoma, Brooklyn, Shreveport, and Lawrence, Kansas.

Lawrence, you're not in Kansas any more. You're

in New Jersey.

Chowder Bowl 2011

2011-11-06T21:27:00.001-05:00

Jake Ballard had the winning TD reception as the

Tomato-based chowders beat the Cream-based

chowders, 24-20. As far as I'm concerned, there

has not been a great game since the Giants-Patriots

Super Bowl until this game today. It was virtually

a remake, and I freaked out accordingly.

Volvo Tart

2011-11-06T18:09:00.000-05:00

JP and I have been feeling Fallsy lately, both of us cooking

with apples. Friday night, I made apple tarts with cinnamon

ice cream. His crumble looks divine, especially

with the fresh cream. So English!

This weekend we ripped out all of the mums and marigolds and

peonies. Chucked the rotting pumpkins, pussy willow wreath,

dried basil stalks, and all of the branches that fell with the first

snowfall. We put the patio furniture, the hammock, and the

garden hoses away, and put the snowblower in the garage,

pointing outward in anticipation of the next snowfall. One or

two more leaf sessions and we'll be good for winter. Now I've

just got to get the boat out of the water.

Low Country Weekend

2011-11-04T01:40:00.002-04:00

A few hours from our destination, we stopped for a late lunch.

A plateful of the south. Pulled pork with Carolina vinegary sauce

(yum), fried chicken, fried livers, fried gizzards, fried okra, fried

squash, okra and beans, broad beans, cole slaw, and sweet

pickles and cauliflower. I went back and got a half plateful of

collard greens with more fried okra and pork barbecue. I could

eat this every day. Just make sure I'm sitting next to the

defibrillator machine though. For convenience' sake.

Folly Beach, SC. Our nest for the wedding weekend. Not bad digs,

and a mere crawl from the reception next door. There's nothing like

opening the sliding doors and getting a faceful of ocean air.

Thanks so much, Reno and Michele. I feel like I say that an awful lot.

Looking south toward Kiawah Island. I love the Carolinas;

in so many ways they remind me of the New Jersey coastline.

Why are you laughing? No, really..........

Bowen's Island Restaurant, just inland of Folly Beach. The line went

out the door behind me and down the switchback stairway. At first

I was skeptical about waiting, but as soon as we got drinks to nurse

while standing in line, we were at the counter in no time. Place your

order, find a table, and wait for the food. It wasn't that bad a wait.

My daughters found a table, suitably right next to a large oyster

shell garbage can. I didn't mind. Rather than putting my empties

on my tray, I tossed them over my shoulder. I'm thinking of

getting one of these for our kitchen table.

They must not be tea-baggers down there, 'cause they spelled

everything correctly. And their warning could not have been

more telling. There was booze, shellfish, and plenty of

finger licking. Kind of like being at home, but this time no clean-up.

College daughter waiting for grub.

Down in the basement where the all-you-can eaters are seated.

This way, they can watch and make sure you're not feeding the

rest of your table from your tray upstairs. The coolest thing in my

opinion is the hole in the middle of the table where the shells go.

Spartan, yet functional accommodations. What more do you need?

Once the oysters come out of the steaming pots, they're dumped on

this hot flat-top until they're shoveled onto cafeteria trays. The

oysters spend very little time there because there's usually a line

of hungry folks waiting just behind this camera.

My first tray. They aren't individual oysters, but clusters of them

jutting in all directions, some open, some not yet. It's more work

than you think. And I guess that's how they don't go out of business

with the all-you-can-eat feature. After a while, especially if you're

drinking at a decent clip, you become exhausted from prying and

shucking before you start to actually get ahead of the game.

Charleston's Carolina Yacht Club, Saturday morning. Word had it

that a young Bahamian hotshot was to sail off the end of the dock

early that afternoon and I went down to see if I could meet him

before he went out. Turned out his Dad was in town and he spent

the morning with him, as he should have. I guess I'll just have to

visit Charleston again. Brent seems like a good guy and I

look forward to being in his presence the next time around.

Charleston Community Sailing was/were holding races off the

dock that morning. There were/was (never quite sure) an

awful lot of young kids out on the water. High School sailing

is alive and well in South Carolina.

Daytime photo of Bowen's Island Restaurant. Note aforementioned

switchback stairway. Apparently this place is fairly recently expanded

and re-modeled. Check out the earlier link for vintage-er photos.

On the way back from CYC, I needed to get some brighter shots of

this place. They serve dinner only, so the only noises I heard were

the wind and crickets.

Sophisticate: To make complicated or complex.

It hasn't happened here yet.

Salts of the earth. I'm sure they don't live an

extravagant lifestyle, but when their workday

ends, they can sleep well. The hose guy said he's

usually asleep by 9, still likes oysters, and, well,

that's all I got out of him. In season, those oysters

are 28-32 bucks a bushel, like those baskets in

the video. The night before, Saturday night, the

restaurant went through 40 bushels. They get 5

trays from each bushel. I had two trays from the

200 that were served. Would I go there again?

You bet your Crassostrea Virginica !

Now I know why they call this 'Low Country'.

At times, the water is at the edge of the road. This photo was

taken from the mounds of shells at Bowen's. I spotted Forrest's

shrimper across the marsh. Several hours later, that marsh

was a couple of feet above sea level.

Catch anything?

Downtown Folly Beach. I found myself becoming instantly and

scarily at home in this community. It's not hard to imagine shifting

right into the groove of this easy-going, laid back beach town.

Ah yes, the reason why we were all here! It was without a doubt

the most relaxing, comfortable, and natural setting for a wedding

ceremony I've ever had the pleasure of attending. And to think

that folks back home were shoveling snow.

Strings attached

Our niece Loren and husband Victor. Love them

The Goddamn cornmeal-crusted scallop was so friggin big that

the guest had to set it down on the surfboard bar because her

arm was getting tired. The duck nachos were a bit lighter.

The Blu Bar. A place to which I bellied up often that night.

Has everyone signed the guestbook?

Poogan's Porch for Sunday Brunch. College daughter

took a pass and waited painfully in the car after a long

night of beer pong and flip cup games after the reception

'til well into the morning. We all eventually go

through it, and it was her turn that day.

A bloody mary in front of the fireplace. People that ask for

this table rarely get it. I just wanted to sit down.

The famous biscuit with honey butter.

The omnipresent Shrimp and Grits. The poached eggs actually

made the dish. I thought there could have been a lot more of the

cheapest ingredient in there......Grits! Good though.

We followed this tour carriage slowly from behind in our

car for several minutes, craning and listening intently before

he pulled over and told us that if we were to continue sitting

in, we would need to donate some gratuities to his cup.

Gorgeous Charleston, South Carolina

The pier at Folly Beach at the end of the day.

Sunset just around to the right. I could really get used to this.

Sneak Peek

2011-10-29T14:56:00.005-04:00

No snow here in Chucktown!

Moving Day

2011-10-25T21:44:00.018-04:00

I had to move the boat from the State Marina by the 31st, and

since we're not around this weekend, I brought her to a friend's

lagoon to spend a week or two until I figure out to whom I'm gonna

give the honor of hauling Bay Rhumb for the winter.

Cormorants are nervous birds. They see you coming,

and unlike seagulls who stay put and almost dare you to run them

over, panic and take off flying or dive under and re-emerge

fifty yards away, all the while looking for a tasty mouthful.

Steaming westward into a very stiff breeze. I'm not real familiar

with this channel and will cut the throttle soon to avoid being

thrown over the wheel if I unexpectedly hit bottom. Panning North,

then South, it hits me: summer's over, and except for the few

sailboats to the South, there's nobody out this October Tuesday

afternoon.

Nestled snugly in her temporary berth, I tied up Bay Rhumb

and installed a couple of bumpers to fend her when the wind

invariably shifts to the Southeast. It's nice to have good friends

with such nice accommodations.

See you in a week or two.

Only other thing I needed to do before heading home was to

drop Charley's spinnaker pole off at Beaton's.

Any excuse to swing by my favorite boatyard is a good one.

I counted at least five A Cats in this shed, along with several

smaller 'filler' boats. Yep, summer's over.

In any other place, this little skiff would be rotting away, but it's

obvious by the looks of this one that there is full intention of

restoration. I'd still love to know how that boat on the right

made it up here from Mississippi.

It amazes me how some of these boat owners choose to get

the work done in the fall, rather than waiting 'til spring to decide

whether or not there are enough funds to do so.

Deep pockets. Deeper than mine.

I'm thrilled that Tom has decided to expand (I originally said

modernize but that would be something I prefer he didn't do)

and build a bigger office and ship's store building. As stated earlier,

there are enough deep pockets around here to keep an

old-fashioned place like this operating for a long, long time.

I just hope that they make it look weathered like all of

the other sheds surrounding it.

Maid/Made on Barnegat Bay

2011-10-23T23:54:00.004-04:00

Pictures at a Competition

2011-10-18T22:16:00.039-04:00

Generator, satellite dish, 2 HD TVs, deep fryer, gas grill, tunes,

2 coolers, and a bean bag game. Why even go inside? I'm

not sure they ever did.

It's either wait in line to see what the people before you needed

to expel, because you know there's a melange of matter in there,

or take a walk into the swamps of Jersey.

Senator John Blutarsky was in attendance.

Coconut-curry chicken skewers. I shoulda made more.

A hell of a lot more.

Still the tallest building in Manhattan, but not for long.

Robert is the luckiest Parking Technician at Giants Stadium.

We always park in the same spot, game after game, and he's

always there to greet us and wave us right in. Amazing how

we get a spot so close to our tailgating group every time, even

though we're arriving as much as two hours after the gates open.

In turn, he eats like a king all pre-game long: ribs, chicken wings,

sausage sandwiches, baked ziti, filet mignon, grilled oysters

and clams, shrimp cocktail, and desserts of all sizes and shapes.

I've seen him directing traffic and yelling at someone while holding

a paper plate full of food. I love that guy.

King Cole

2011-10-14T18:01:00.000-04:00

Two sets tomorrow, Saturday, October 15 at

the Record Collector in Bordentown, NJ.

Pete, you and Uncle Jim gonna make it down

there? Tell Richie I said hey.

Ready About?

2011-10-09T17:06:00.000-04:00

Johnny Come Lately

2011-10-06T00:23:00.000-04:00

And to think that I just got my own first iPod on Monday. I'm still

trying to wrap my head around the whole concept of not having to

gently lay the stylus down on the record. I've got 160 frigabytes

of memory! That's 40,000 songs. And I can load photos, movies,

and TV shows to boot. I wonder if the Honeymooners are out on

iTunes yet. I suppose I'll never run out of music while mowing the

lawn. How long does it take to cut my grass, you ask?

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. The album.

Steve Jobs didn't just influence a generation, but several of them.

Everyone else out there is a copycat. The letter i will never be

looked at the same way again, and i am just getting started.

We'll take it!

2011-10-02T21:18:00.000-04:00

Hakeem Nicks was born with Stick-um on his hands

Larry Fitzgerald gives $1000 to charity for every pass he catches.

In keeping with being charity-minded, the Jints should give 1k for

every pass defended against Fitz. I'm thinking they can swing it.

I'm loving #71 Dave Tollefson. Big, white defensive

linemen are hard to come by these days.

Victor, next time you want to give up the ball, make sure you hear

the whistle first. Phew! Good job boys, on not giving up and

coming home with a road win. We'll see you in two weeks

against Buffalo. K-9 if you want to tailgate; we'll have plenty.

Challenge Cup 2011

2011-09-27T00:33:00.000-04:00

The Tall Oaks/Windjammers Challenge Cup was raced last weekend.

With a conservative, middle of the line start and good boat speed,

we stayed toward the front of the fleet the whole way around the

10 mile race course. We finished fourth out of 12, 20 seconds

behind the 3rd place finisher, a Catalina 30. For once, I felt we

were faster than them on all points of sail except the broad reach,

where 'Escapade' ate us alive. We are the only boat flying

Betsy Ross from the spreader.

Escapade had PB&Js on that passing leg. That may have

proved to be the difference, seeing that half of us on Bay

Rhumb were eating Liverwurst sandwiches.

We sailed around after the race while everyone else went

in to prepare for the big awards dinner and trophy

presentation. It gave me time to reflect on the race

and wonder why we took all summer to finally sail well.

Tall Oaks Yacht Club defended the Cup and got

to hold on to the hardware for another winter.

Larry Ellison, eat your heart out!

Huge!

2011-09-25T17:18:00.007-04:00

Prodigy

2011-09-25T00:57:00.001-04:00

There's little I can say that hasn't already been said.

Such a great young guy making all of us proud.

Bullet

2011-09-22T00:34:00.041-04:00

Pretty subdued at the finish for me, don'tcha think?
BTW, Lori "Postcards from LBI"'s son Jeff is a
hot E-Scow sailor and managed a stellar 15th
place in a fleet of 79 E-Scows. A massive turn-out
for one of the oldest one-design classes in the US!

Dad with his go-fast 5 man crew. He broke out the Seidelman

main for this race. He had bought the boat from Had Brick

in Island Heights. The sail number was IH 27. He swapped the

letters for MC (Metedeconk) and dropped the 7 on each side

of the sail. The boat was named "Martha", with the hard, black

plastic letters actually nailed on to the transom.

That was the first thing to go, I think.

Just Because Times Two

2011-09-18T22:02:00.000-04:00

For thirty plus years this song has captivated me, and much more

recently has reminded me of a girl in Brooklyn and a guy in England.

Where were you when........

2011-09-11T00:03:00.000-04:00

My whole life it's been: "where were you when JFK was shot?"

I was two and a half so I was probably making a fuss about

something and/or picking my nose and eating it too.

For the last ten years however, the question has been,

where were you on 9/11? That, I remember like it was this morning.

There have been other notable events since JFK in

my life, such as MLK, RFK, walking on the moon,

Bruce Jenner winning the decathlon, John Lennon,

the Aussies taking the America's Cup,

the Challenger tragedy, the Berlin Wall. Nothing will stick so

clearly in my mind as the events of that picture-perfect Tuesday

morning in September 2001.

It was such a Goddamn beautiful, clear, dry, blue-skied morning.

This picture is another one worth a thousand words.

Or 2801 names. Besides those in Virginia and Pennsylvania.

I'm familiar with the man who created this sculpture, and it's

no coincidence that this figure remained peaceful amid such chaos.

NFL Kickoff Game

2011-09-09T00:19:00.004-04:00

There was a great, high-scoring, first-game-of-the-season

tonight between the Packers and the Saints. I don't think

that after all the B.S. during the lockout earlier this summer

that the NFL could have asked for a better contest.

I did notice that the Packers fans were waving yellow

towels in the same manner that the Steelers fans have

been doing for decades. As I was trying to cleverly come

up for an alternative name to the Steelers' 'Terrible Towel',

I asked my wife to quickly think of an idea. Without

flinching, she said 'Cheesecloth'. Brilliant. LOFL.

And I'm usually the one who comes up with the quick one.

What do you think, Titletown Towel or Cheesecloth?

P.S.- I just realized this guy painted the G on

his face while looking in the mirror. At least

he looks good to himself.

Labor Day Shred

2011-09-07T00:58:00.000-04:00

Thanks to my old friend Shawn and Ezzy sails.

Blazing Eastward toward Barnegat Inlet,

sailing a prototype for next year.

Enough with all the Rain

2011-09-06T22:37:00.000-04:00

Very influential for me, this play/music/film, to this day.

Been Kinda Damp Around Here Lately

2011-09-06T18:05:00.001-04:00

Mushrooms

Funghi

Hongos

The plants are certainly happy about it

Hopefully no more floating refrigerators

Tacky

2011-09-03T21:23:00.000-04:00

I posted something last night that I thought was humorous. I used

a program that takes your text and converts it to animated, spoken

words. The possibilities are endless and I may in the future actually

attempt to publish something that's clever and worthy of sharing.

However, last night, my inner grade school sense of humor got

the best of me and I created a foul-mouthed, 20 second-or-so

animated clip. I played it over and over again and chortled aloud.

It's frickin hilarious when a computer-generated person recites

whatever you happen to type in the dialogue bar. No censorship.

I posted it and went to bed. When I woke up, remorse had

immediately set in and I felt horrified about the complete lack of

decorum I had displayed. There's definitely plenty of room for

bathroom humor in one's everyday life, but not in such a public

and accessible place as a blog. At least not one I'm responsible for.

Nothing Is Easy

2011-09-01T23:42:00.001-04:00

If someone has this effing thing on their desk,

go crush it and swipe it off with one motion.

You officially have my permission. Offission.

Spoke Too Soon

2011-08-30T11:15:00.004-04:00

It's really just starting to hit me now that the water is gone

and power is back on. I may need to go cry for awhile.

If this is the worst thing I have to do....

2011-08-27T18:07:00.000-04:00

It wasn't even raining real hard and the water was

already overflowing from the upper gutters. Something

wasn't right. The heavy bands haven't arrived yet, just

a couple of shots off the bow. A lull in the downpour

presented an opportunity to squeeze out my daughter's

bedroom window and survey the problem. A clog in the

upper downspout was causing the overflow and explained

the trickle of water running into the lower gutter. Might

as well clean out the lower one while I was there. 6:00

and we're as ready as we're gonna be. Everything is

already up from the basement floor, except the furnace

and water heater. The new bilge pump will be working

overtime for sure. Cocktail hour has officially begun.

Proper Class

2011-08-24T10:27:00.000-04:00

Now this is America's Cup sailing.

Not a helmet or trampoline in sight.

Like Butter

2011-08-20T00:01:00.000-04:00

Softened, melted, or better still, clarified. My solids have

risen to the top.

Are You Ready For Some Pointy?

2011-08-18T00:35:00.003-04:00

Halla Frickin Looyah!

Anchor Start Saturday

2011-08-12T00:26:00.000-04:00

Torch

Torch and Mary Ann, the oldest A Cat at 87.

Raven

Raven, the eventual winner. Let's go, Vang!

Hard alee!

Witch

Vapor, Mary Ann and Lotus

Wasp

I never get tired of watching these beauties. And I felt

even more compelled to watch this race knowing that

the World Ducks will go on without me this year. If

you have a chance, get down to Mantoloking on Friday,

August 26th. Another true Barnegat Bay classic.

Photos courtesy of Braveheart

Friday with Charley

2011-08-07T23:11:00.005-04:00

A typical summer Friday at Beaton's: Raven getting her weekly

bottom wash. There would be others after her. These classics

don't use bottom paint. Who'd want to slop that goo onto such

a gorgeous sailing machine? Saturday's the anchor start race

at Ocean Gate. Beside hauling the anchor and hoisting the

football field-sized main (well not really, but..) as fast as the

crews can at the sound of the cannon, a smooth and slimeless

bottom will help these beauties get under way and around Good

Luck Point for the long weather slog southward to the '40' marker

just beyond Cedar Creek. More on this unique race on the next post.

It may seem to us like just a job, but I really think these guys

understand the history and the tradition of the A Cat class that is

being upheld, and they really do take pride in their work.

Upon hearing me wax on about how much I loved the A Cats and

the smoothness of Raven's hull, one of the guys suggested that I

turn around and feast my eyes on 'Silent Maid', the immaculate

reproduction of the original, berthed and maintained at this mecca

of American boatyards. I will never grow tired of this boat and will

always find yet another angle from which to snap a varnishy shot.

Talk about a pampered boat. I think she's out of the water just

about as much as she's in. Deep pockets in this case is an

extreme understatement.

Russ in the big shed getting 'Speedwell' ready for her new sprit rig

and possible entry in this year's World Ducks. He was in the process

of inflating his flotation bags and had the lifting bridle attached, but

I didn't know what was about to transpire a mere hour from then.

Okay, so I finally sauntered over to the place where Charley Best

was supposed to be. This is Marie Darling's houseboat. On the hard

for years, the bilge in this boat is still below sea-level, and the shiny

floor proves it. Shoulda got a photo. I was too excited being here to

snap every detail. We climbed the stairs and had a seat. From that

upper deck, our view was priceless and I found it hard to pry myself

from the rocking Adirondack chair I had occupied.

Charley has been coming here for the last fifty or so years, and

lately splits his time between here and the Florida Keys. He and

I hit it off immediately. We share many points of view, and it

seemed as if I had known him before we ever met. He told me

his Dad actually helped to dig many of the ditches and canals that

criss-cross the marshes surrounding Beaton's and West

Mantoloking. As a kid, my cousin and I would motor

our wooden rowboat in and out of many of these same ditches,

never even thinking about who or what may have created them.

Raven being towed back to her mooring after a good scrub.

There's nothing like watching an afternoon go by from Marie

Darling's porch. There was a nice fresh East wind blowing

into Beaton's harbor, and there was nowhere else I wanted to be.

Back to the dock for lunch.

The maiden voyage for Russ Manheimer's new sprit rig.

Out through the A Cats toward Swan Point and........

free of the moorings and into clear air.

The view of Beaton's from Marie's porch. Charley's catboat

is in the foreground. Marie's motorboat lies just to starboard.

I sarcastically said, in her presence, that I forgave her for owning

that motorboat. Either she ignored me and decided not to belittle

me, or it went right over her head. I'm fortunate she didn't rip me

a new one. Who the hell am I anyway?

Lee Marie in her slip. A forty year old Marshall catboat

looking much younger than her age. I'm not surprised, now

knowing Charley, at how well she has been cared for.

I mentioned that I was rigging a ring to my mast for a whisker

pole, and before I was able to add that I already had the pole,

Charley opened the doors to his freight container and produced

three poles for my perusal. I always love going into Best Marine.

BTW, I still may need one of them Charley!

Charley and Marie volunteered to refinish this Duck Boat for

the Friends of Belmar Harbor sailing program. Let's face it.

Right then, at that moment on the Jersey Shore, and across

the country, how many other people were so focused on

such a seemingly ho-hum task of sanding the wooden deck of a

widely unknown, rather heavy and slow-moving little sailboat?

Especially with the hopes that the kid sailing that boat would

race well, and most importantly have fun in the process?

When I left that day, this was the scene: Three weeks until the

43rd World Ducks and there was still work to be done. Belmar's

lucky to have two folks that care so much about preserving this

institution. And I hope Russ's experimental rig is allowed to compete.

Hey Charley, don't forget the T-shirts! Both XXL, one long

and one short sleeve. I'll get you back. You're a good man....

Wait.......What?

2011-08-04T00:19:00.002-04:00

Am I all alone, or do some of you cringe at the over-used phrases

and expressions that clutter our everyday conversations? I could

name a couple dozen of them easily, but I'd like to ask my readers

(both of them) to weigh in and offer forth their least favorite, over-

used, and trite contributions to the All-American pastime of small-

talk. It's not like I'm asking them to design a burgee or anything.

Hey Nineteen

2011-08-01T00:01:00.101-04:00

Schaefer - was the - one beer to have - when you - had one more
than one dollar. For $21.20, we could score a 1/2 keg of the world
famous Schaefer Lager. 11 people with 2 bucks and we were set.
All the rest was gravy. And there was gravy to go around. And,
often beer to shampoo your hair with in the morning.

My wife and I met at Clarion State College in 1980.

To this day, we have a very very small, close-knit

group of friends from out there who stay in touch.

This weekend, two of our old friends made the trip

East from Pennsyltucky. Mike, in the Steelers cap,

was a roommate of mine. He and I have stayed very

much in contact over the years. He came out Friday

afternoon from PGH with wines from around the world.

It seems Jack Davis had something caught in his teeth

in this picture. I think I was out looking for floss in the

bathroom when this was taken.

Sucks when you get old, huh Mike?

Lainey was my wife's first roommate. She actually introduced us

to each other, in the dark, campfire-side, in the woods. Did I

mention that it was dark? I was supposed to be Sheik Yerbouti

in this shot. Doug was a Saudi intern with a bandana. Hescher

was a Lennox air conditioner repairman with a floppy leather hat.

Miodus was the space alien army dude, and I still can't remember

the guy in red's name, but that's okay.

The five of us went out on the bay on Saturday. Fluky West winds

and black flies from hell prompted most of us to jump in and escape

the onslaught. Lainey and her fiancee Mike assured us that the

water was warm and the boat looked cool from their point of view..

Schaefer keg party # 267. Doug seems to be having a flashback

while Malcolm holds up the wall next to the door. I'm pretty

sure I gave him the Wharfside and Lobster Shanty T-shirt. Good

chance nobody else in Clarion worked down on Channel Drive

in Point Pleasant Beach, New Jersey in a seafood restaurant.

Marlin with the cigarette was positively mesmerized.

Very possibly the next night in the same apartment. Miodus is

using Doug's mouth as an ashtray, apparently with Doug's

permission. Malcolm chose to wear a forest green shirt for the

occasion. We never wanted to be caught wearing the same

outfit twice. That would just be tacky.