Grandpa's Boating School

From a very young age, I learned to respect the ocean. Even in our little sheltered stretch of the Sound, I understood that the ocean was powerful and could turn on you in an instant. Growing up on the dock, in boats and swimming off the shore, I was never afraid of the water, but I certainly respected it. Life jackets were always a must. Grandpa was also adamant that we all learn to row. Engines were not always reliable. If the engine crapped out, we had to be prepared.

I still vividly remember Grandpa tying that tiny two person dingy to the side of the dock. I’m guessing I was about six or seven years old. He set me up with the oars and a life jacket, helped me into the boat, launched it out into the Sound and told me I had to row myself back to the dock. I was very young, so my recollection of the details is likely distorted. But I swear, that rope was at least a million feet long. I don’t remember being scared. I remember feeling intimidated but also determined. I made it back to the dock. And then I wanted to do it again. It became my new favourite game.

Years later, when I was thirteen, Grandpa taught me how to drive the tin boat with the 9.9 HP engine. He said I could take the boat out by myself after I proved to him that I could drive it responsibly, avoid deadheads, dock it gracefully, react appropriately in the case of sudden rough waters and troubleshoot engine and boat issues. Being the oldest of the grandchildren, I was the first one to get this incredible opportunity. We spent an hour or two each day out on that boat. Each time we went out, Grandpa would entrust me with a new task. We stayed at it for multiple cabin trips over the course of two summers. I remember approaching the dock at the end of what would be our final lesson. I was determined to pull off the smoothest docking of all time. And I did. Grandpa raised his arms and said “hey, good show!” and that was it. Grandpa and I still went out in the boat together of course, but from then on I was no longer his student. When friends came up to visit, I could take them out on the boat with confidence. It was such a cool sense of freedom and trust. I felt very grown-up.

Over the years, Grandpa put my brother and all of my younger cousins through Grandpa’s Boating School. Looking back, learning how to drive that boat was really just the cherry on top. What made the whole thing so special was the time I got to spend with Grandpa. I would bet my brother and cousins probably feel the same way. Even though he’s gone now, every time someone docks that little tin boat, I can still hear Grandpa say “hey, good show!”.