Thursday, July 30, 2009

No Sweat

Okay, I'm back. There is so much to write about that it's hard to know where to start.
Early memories from the fifties when I was just a tyke, flood throug my brain. Last weekend, I was sailing with a couple of brothers who helped jar my memory about a few things that happened when I was very small.
We had a wooden sailboat called a Nipper. It was built in Toledo by a man named Ray Green. I never knew this but apparently he was well known in the Great Lakes as an accomplished designer of sailing craft.
This boat was twelve feet long, and looked much like a Cat boat with the mast far at the bow. She was built of plywood and was the property of my two oldest brothers David and Fritz. They were teenagers and were apt to reply to requests of any kind by my dad with the words "No Sweat", meaning they would get to the task when they felt like it. One day they went to go sailing and found that dad had stenciled the words "No Sweat" on the back of the Nipper, thus she was christened. What a beauty she was, small and tidy and painted bright bumble bee yellow with black trim.
One summer day, three of us set out for a sail. I was no more than five along with Chris, then seven and Fritz as the captain, age sixteen. We traveled along the Lake Erie shore and all was well until we were hit by a sudden thunderstorm. The wind picked up and the boat started to heel and heel again, until we heeled so much that the boat capsized. All I can remember is that it was like a slow motion picture and the three of us fell onto the sail as the boat went over. Well, our family was never very good about having life jackets or anything that sensible, so we were suddenly plunged into the chilly water which was over my head. I remember being very frieightened, and trying to cling to the boat and crying and being cold. Suddenly, out of nowhere a neighbor came out in his motorboat and rescued us.
This neighbor was one of three brothers who all had houses next to each other on the beach. They all had housefuls of kids and theirs were the homes that always seemed even more chaotic than mine. You never knew what you'd find when you went inside. Once I recall going in and finding that the father had taken apart an outboard engine in the living room and was repairing it. They were kind and fun people and they could see everything on the water-thus our rescue.
That experience remains in my mind as a clear memory of the day I nearly drowned. I have no idea what happened then, just that we were safe.
I don't think I ever went back out on the "No Sweat".
Stay tuned for: Five boats and a Raft, The Tooth Fairy Story, Building Interstate 75, Mr Keeney, and much more.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

memories and moving

My earliest memories are probably from the time I was about 5 years old.
As soon as school was out, the family would literally move to Luna Pier. We would pack two Chevys till they were nearly bursting with clothes, food, linens, not to mention children, and anything we thought we had to have for the summer. It wasn't that we would not be seeing our "city house" until September. On the contrary, our cottage was a mere fifteen miles from our home town of Toledo, Ohio, but for a young child like me, moving day was quite final until school started again after Labor day. I thought I miles away from my everyday life, I wouldn't be seeing my room or friends for three long months. I packed my favorite books, dolls and various trinkets that made me feel secure.
The first days of summer after arriving at the cottage, everything seemed new and different and familiar at the same time. Like the fishing poles stacked behing the front door and the coat rack next to it. My mother's plaid sweater still hanging there after the long, cold winter. As though it was only meant to be there on that hook, lonely and chilly. I can't recall ever seeing her wear it.
Several weeks before moving day, the family would go up the "the lake" on saturdays and clean. We would wash all the linens and make all the beds and sweep the dead spiders out the front door. We scrubbed the black and white tiled floor and mop the steps and tidied up the yard, weeded the beds and planted zinnia and marigold seeds. It was always chilly on those days and my mother would bring homemade soup along or chili for our lunch.
As kids, we were always anxious to get going and move-after all, it meant no school and we could sleep late in the morning.
And there was the lure of Lake Erie just at the end of our little street. We couldn't wait to be the first in the water. We had contests to see who could go for a swim in June, the earlier the better.
The water was always freezing at that time of year, and we would put on our new bathing suits and run to the water. After we all finally got in, our lips were blue from the cold water as well as the air. But we were very satisfied after such an accomplishment and we knew then that summer was here and we were at the lake..
Dinner could be fried chicken or spaghetti, followed by a game of scrabble or cards and when the sun went down at arould nine-thirty, we went to bed happy and tired.