Typhoon in New York Times Editorial Page

[Gary H]

This collumn can be found in today's editorial page of the New York Times. Looks like a future CD Board member.
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/03/09/opini ... ef=opinion

[Oswego John]

The location is upstate New York. It is late afternoon on Friday of the second week in March. I am staring out the window that is adjacent to my computer. It is snowing heavily, to be followed shortly by bright sunshine and then more snow. The memories of past events are recurring in my mind at breakneck speed. The reason being, I have just finished reading an intriguing, albeit on the short side, gem of a story about a 40 year old boat that is stored in a barn.

I shall try to make this post brief, although I'll tell you now, "It ain't gonna happen". When we studied about the seven "C"s when writing, I guess I missed the day in school when the issue of concisiveness was taught. To this very day, I am able to compact three sentences into two paragraphs.

I can truly relate to that story in the NY Times. It is the personification of the story of my life. Well, maybe I never went to sea with some pigs aboard my Ty. (ed note: neither two legs nor four). But some of the journeys in my past would pale the stories you have heard and read about by others. Allow me to attempt to codify my reflexions of my past treks. My memories are on a different page as those of Moitessier, Vigor or even our contemporary, Fred of Fenix fame. No discredit implied, but they have only sailed the oceans, blue.

When walking past a decommissioned boat, which happens to be a golden oldie,, giving it a warm, tender stroke on its mast, to me, has the effect of a running my fingers through the hair of my true love as I pass. Merely a signal of true feelings of love, if not total admiration.

Some may call the wandering of the mind as daydreaming. As a young lad in grade school, I was first made aware of it at the time that I was the engineer of the mighty steam engine that was towing the "Montauk Cannonball", hurtling across the length of Long Island from New York City to the far end at Montauk Point. How proud I was with my engineer's cap atop my young head and the flaming red bandana tied around my neck. We must have been jostling along at maybe 70 miles per hour, maybe even more. And the mighty locomotive's steam whistle, whose cord held in my hand, announced to the world around us that we were coming through, nobody could stop us. Oh, the powerful blare of the mighty steam whistle that was controlled by my very whim or inclination.

As the train was roaring through the Hamptons, my teacher snapped my reverie, brought me back to reality in quick fashion.

Later on in life, I bought a real Ty, a golden oldie, also. I travelled to many places, my Ty and I. Unlike Fenix or Vigor who never left this galaxy, I travelled to many far away places. I never had a proclivity to travel alone. I preferred to have company. Snoopy had Woodstock with him in his Sopwith Camel when they dueled with the Red Baron. Many was the time that I sailed my yacht, defiantly, in pirate's waters. Sometimes I had with me my good friend and pirate, Captain Pucebeard with his flintlock pistol held in his waistband. Many were the trips made with a very close friend of mine, Walter Mitty. What's that you say, you never heard of Walter Mitty? Look him up. He's in Google. Then, sometimes my only companion was another pirate that you might have heard of at one time or another, Captain Morgan.

Luke Skywalker and Han Solo could only do 24 parceps per second in their spaceship. How can I say this without sounding gauche? I'll try. When I journeyed in my Ty, I would leave that cosmic traveller in my dust. (stardust, that is.) I.needed no gps or vhf. On my last trip to the moon I made it in the duration of a catnap, although it is only fair to admit that I had a tailwind both ways.

So now, when the weather breaks, I will go out into my barn and sensually stroke my Ty's unstepped mast while whispering sweet nothings to my true love's coaming. Then, I suppose that I will check out Craig's List and look for some four legged swine.

Hey, who was it that coined the phrase "The sky's the limit"? Odds on it was someone that had a fertile imagination. The person very probably owned a Ty, or at the very least, a Cape Dory.

A person without dreams, without things hoped for, is a sad and hollow individual. So dream on, my friends, dream on.

O J

[Kim Ode]

O.J.
We've never met, although you and my husband, John Danicic, have crossed paths. I just wanted to say that this last post has me sighing, almost crying, and yet smiling at the same moment (meaning no disrespect, they have only sailed oceans -- I will take that line with me to the grave. Thank you.) I have come to sailing from landlocked origins in South Dakota; Verlyn Klinkenborg grew up in north central Iowa, equally landlocked. We have gone through our Typhoon stage and now are privileged to sail a CD 36 on Lake Superior. Honest to god, I think that's as good as it gets. So thank you for your thoughts -- and not just these; I've read you for years now. Sail on.
Kim Ode
CD 36 Mariah Hull #124
Lake Superior

[Dick Barthel]

Magnificent OJ. I'm curious if anyone knows whether Conrad's Typhoon was Andy V's inspiration for the model name or if not what was?

Dick

[Scott Launey]

WOW, I'm siting here like you Kim in awe of what I've just read. I read OJ's piece first and then Verlyn K's opinion in the Times. One sparked the other, but it could just as easily been the other way around. It's dark, but my TY's in the water and I'm thinking of going down to the slip just to say "where have you sailed to in your life before I met you?" I can't wait to ship "Angelina's" lines again.

Scott