Good Old Boat Issue 142: Jan/Feb 2022

adventures, children, losses, and loves, Mom passed away. A year later, my only sister and sibling also passed away. Suddenly it was just Dad and me. I wasn’t much help with his grief. I never grew out of that cynical, somewhat crass disposition. And losing Mom and Sister was nothing short of devastating—for both of us. Fortunately, my husband provided endless support while I grieved. But Dad didn’t have anyone. And as I’ve explained, warm and fuzzy is hard for me. I felt guilty for Whippet resting in her slip. Nicole knew the boat's salty lines would attract her father, left. The newly refurbished bow pulpit is all business and no longer has an actual bust of a whippet on it, below left.

frame it. Dad walked in, saw it, and his eyes lit up. That’s when it hit me. Dad needed a sailboat. I started searching. As luck would have it, I found a boat two hours away that I thought would entice him. It was 1983 41-foot Transworld ketch, full keel, clipper bow, all the things I knew he liked. Salty. I asked Dad if he wanted to see it. He was slow to respond at first, but I watched the idea tempt him, and those green eyes sparked. I knew this would work. We left at dusk and arrived well after dark. We found a hotel and anxiously slept; the next morning, we drove straight to the marina. Tires crunching gravel, we slowly drove by boats on the hard towering above us, boats of every shape and size.

not knowing how to help, and little by little, I watched Dad slip away. His bright green eyes that once danced with mischief and excitement were fading. And nothing—I mean nothing—could bring him back. Then, in the summer of 2020, I was going through Mom’s things when I found a drawing she had made of Chicken Little and Henny Penny on a river raft with charts and provisions for their trip to see the king. Momwas an endearing artist whose drawings were full of life and charm, and this one had always been my favorite. I set Mom’s drawing on the counter, planning to

47

January/February 2022