It is true that our kids have the benefit of being raised in a spontaneous and fun environment, with opportunities for adventure and exploration. However, the predictable and routine activities of childhood are sometimes missed—things like boy scouts, gymnastic classes, music lessons, or team sports. They may get these “extras,” but they will have to be on our schedule and fit with our family rhythms. Sometimes this works out perfectly. For example, we took a ten-week beginner ice skating class for homeschoolers when we lived in Clearwater. Sarah had the opportunity to take riding lessons last spring as part of her birthday present. Here in Marathon, we found free music classes for children at the United Methodist Church, and that has been great as there is little obligation.

But doing a team sport is a horse of a different color. Firstly, the practices inevitably overlap the dinner hour, a sacred time for us, and eat up weekends, preventing spontaneous boat trips. Then there is the expense of specialized shoes and uniforms. Of course, every kid is on a different team and you end up running around like headless chickens. Finally, the atmosphere of competition can make something intense which should be (in my opinion) fun and relaxing for children. We don’t need any extra stress at the end of the day. So, until now, we have steered clear of things like soccer, basketball, and football. But when the opportunity arose to join in “pick-up” games of kickball on Friday nights at the local park, I ran it past the children and they responded enthusiastically. There is no sign-up, no cost, and no record-keeping. You just show up and play.

It has become the highlight of my week! With the bread baked, boat clean, and dinner prepared early, our day of rest has begun. What better way to start the weekend than with a time of family fun? The first week, Sarah bailed out after the first play of the game, and since they were short a few players, Sam joined in. The players are supposed to be ages 6-11, so, at 3, Sam is a bit young. I stayed nearby to coach him on kicking, running and stopping at the bases. After he got the hang of it, he was unstoppable. Literally. The adults helping out never let the kid be “out.” If he kicked it and ran, it didn’t matter who tagged him, the umpire shouted “Safe!”  All he talked about for the rest of the week was how much fun kickball was and when could he play again?

The weeks since have brought much improvement in play. As all the kids get the basics, the game moves a little quicker and everyone seems to have more fun. Our kids have the added benefit of having extra practice time at Homeschool P.E., another program the Marathon park puts on during the week. Last night, there were lots of kids and the game was fun to watch. Sarah joined in and got three runs for her team, plus a great play when she tagged someone out at first base. Eli and Aaron both got in some good kicks and runs, as well as fielding the ball, and Sam kicked well and made it safely to every base.

I usually laugh myself silly in the stands, and cheer the kids on, but last night had us rolling and crying. At some point, Sam got tired of playing infielder and started making his own fun. He started by turning circles until he got dizzy and fell down, then moved on to headstands and forward rolls in the grass. By the end of the game, he had corrupted another small player and the two of them were rolling around by the pitcher’s mound, occasionally impeding play and being told to “roll back over there.” Then they started building sand castles out of red clay, completely oblivious to the game going on around them. At one point, the ball rolled right between them and someone made a comment about kicking the ball between “the two goal posts.” In a culture where children’s lives seem so scheduled and organized, it’s good to find a time and place where kids can have some spontaneous, old-fashioned fun.

We typically eschew the un-holiday of Halloween. Although I recognize the pagan roots of other holidays, like Christmas or Easter, they have at least been tamed down and been made meaningful. Halloween, on the other hand, holds absolutely no spiritual meaning for our family, and has even lost its usefulness as a “cultural” holiday. We did the trick-or-treat thing for a couple of years when the boys were small, but we even stopped taking trick-or-treaters when truly gruesome creatures started coming to our door. We don’t really like things that celebrate fear and death, not to mention gorging on sugar. So we have ignored the holiday, spent that night out at anchor, or gone to “Fall Festivals” that have nothing to do with Halloween.

But this year, we decided to start our own tradition. People all around us expect a boatful of children to be dressed up and going out begging for candy, so we did the unexpected. We baked pumpkin cookies and putted all over Boot Key Harbor in the dinghy delivering treats to friends’ boats. They were so surprised and pleased—the kids got more pleasure out of the happy responses than they ever would have out of a bucket of candy. Really.  They didn’t come home empty-handed, either, as one friend ducked back into his cabin and came back with beads (leftovers from Fantasy-Fest in Key West) and candy and granola bars for the kids. Nothing’s better than an unexpected treat.

It was fun, took the focus off of what everyone else was doing, and gave us an opportunity to leave things better than we found them, so I think we’ll do it again next year if we’re in a place that does Halloween. I have included the cookie recipe here, but I take no credit for it—I owe many thanks to my sister-in-law in Atlanta for her yummy treats.

Soft Pumpkin Cookies
Prep time: 1 hour
Makes: 3 1/2 dozen

1/2 c. sugar
1/2 c. brown sugar
1 c. butter (or 1/2 c. butter + 1/2 c. coconut oil)
1 c. cooked, puréed pumpkin (canned is fine)
1/2 tsp. vanilla
1 egg
2 c. flour (whole wheat is fine)
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
3/4 c. chopped nuts

Cream butter and sugars. Add egg, pumpkin, and vanilla; mix until creamy. Whisk together dry ingredients; add all at once to pumpkin mixture. Add nuts if desired. Bake at 350˚ for 10-12 minutes. Frost when cooled completely (or, for a glazed cookie, frost when warm).

Cream Cheese Frosting: 1/4 c. cream cheese, 1 c. powdered sugar, 1-2 T. milk. Soften cream cheese, add sugar/milk alternately until mixture is spreadable.

This headstrong family is learning a thing or two about teamwork. It all started with a kayak saved from a trash pile. Well, maybe it started well before that, but there’s nothing like kayaking to bring the principle home. Like a yoke of oxen, two people with paddles can pull different ways and make no progress, or work together and feel the sweet reward of speed through water.

The kayak is really fun. We use it to explore, to get some exercise, to get off the boat for awhile, to enjoy the water, and once, to ferry a child to a friend’s boat for the afternoon. Jay saved it using his handy heat gun and plastic welding rod, and we’re keeping it for the moment, although it takes up a good bit of deck space, to see if this is the right size and kind for our family. 

The first time I went kayaking was with our friends at Curry Hammock Sate Park, where it came to actual blows between our two oldest boys when they could not figure out how to get out of a mangrove tangle. I had them put the paddles in their laps and raise their hands in the hair (as in, “this is a stick-up”) until they could cool off, calm down and figure out what to do next. Although they finished well that day, they swore they would never go kayaking again. The two boys actually now love to kayak, though we haven’t turned the two of them loose by themselves yet. And surprisingly, even Sam has gotten the hang of it.  (Note, in the picture, we were giving the kayak a trial run a few feet from the boat, and Sam hopped on without a life vest, which is normally a must, of course.)

One of the pleasant discoveries I’ve made is that the kid I always seem to butt heads with works the most cooperatively, and somehow knows instinctively how to steer and which side to paddle on without my saying a word. And the one who can finish my sentences has no idea which way I want to go, but goes at it hammer and tongs and by golly! We'll get there by sheer strength! Another child really just needs some mommy-time and this is a great way to get it. This teamwork thing is so important for these relationships—I wonder, would I have made this discovery without the kayak?

Although our chore chart, recently re-vamped, has some two-person jobs that require teamwork, like sorting and bagging the laundry, I was having a real problem training small people to work together. We like to say we are “independent” and “determined” but it seems that really we are just a bunch of stubborn goats, with our own ideas of doing things and a lack of willingness to share a task. But now I have this beautiful floating analogy: all of our tasks on the boat are like kayaking. We can either hit each other with the paddles, or we can use teamwork and cooperation to laugh and actually have a good time while making forward progress. 

We are beginning to look for a weather window. This, in case you do not know, is a departure date based on an ideal weather forecast. When crossing the Gulf Stream, that means wind going the same way as current. Ideally, we will set out past the reef, raise the spinnaker and glide all the way to the Bahamas. We are not in a rush, so we can wait for this weather window, and be ready when it “opens.” But, for the moment, we are still in Marathon. Although I’m starting to get antsy, I’m glad that were are still here, since it meant perfect timing to meet up with some old and precious friends of ours.

The Tucker family was in the keys doing a boat-building workshop and came by to see if we were in, so to speak. After some wild-goose-chasing and a game of phone tag, we finally connected with them. What a joyous reunion! We made a hasty dinner plan, invited them all back to our boat and had a wonderful evening. We comfortably had nine children, four adults and two cats on our boat for dinner and fun, and reconfirmed why we love having a large catamaran. Take Two is great boat with plenty of room, in this case, to take two large families!

We met the Tuckers at the St. Pete Boat Show about five years ago. They run a booth near the entrance of the show called “Kids Aboard.” It’s a place where young sailors can be dropped off for a few hours to do a boat building workshop. The plywood boats get worked on every day of the show (save Saturdays, which are reserved for Shabbat—the day of rest), and are launched and sailed the last day of the show. At the time when we met them, we were not of the “dropping off” mentality, so we barely paid them any notice. But later, as we were coming out of the show, their kids were playing soccer in the field and our kids asked to join in. I got to talking with them and we discovered a world of commonalities between our two families.

We ended up inviting them over to our house for dinner and becoming good friends. They had lived aboard their French-built aluminum catamaran “Fellowship” (currently for sale) and were able to share what living aboard with a large family was like (they had four girls at the time, and have since added a little boy to the mix). To us, they were the dream personified, truly inspiring us to keep working toward leaving a land life and buying a boat.

As we sat in our cockpit after dinner and reminisced, we realized how much had changed since we last invited them for dinner at our house!  We had done the thing they had helped inspire us to do—perhaps they will now know how important their friendship was in helping us on our way. We all agreed that boat shows are important for those dreaming of going cruising, not just for the boats or sailing gadgets, but because of the people one meets there with inspiring stories and good advice.

For those sailing with families, or who are home-schooling, Kids Aboard is a great resource. We have the Kids Aboard burgee, which we can fly when we get to a new place to find other boats with children, and a plethora of tee-shirts, which always get a lot of comments when we’re out and about. Their website is a great place to read about homeschooling, good books, and family life aboard, with lots of links. Also, they still do boat building workshops for kids of all ages, church, school or homeschool groups, and can be seen at the Miami Boat Show in February. You can find them at www.kidsaboard.com.

Someday we may have the privilege of meeting up with folks dreaming of sailing away, and we will happily “pay it forward” by sharing our lives and stories with other young sailors. And thanks to all of you (whoever you are) reading our blog and sharing our life aboard!

 For anyone interested, the recipe for salmon cakes we shared that night follows.

Salmon Cakes
Prep time: 1 hour
Makes: 6 servings

3-4 cans wild salmon (a pound of fresh, steamed salmon would be great)
1 egg
1 c. cracker crumbs (whole-wheat w/sesame works well)
1 carrot
1/2 onion
1 large stalk celery
1-2 cloves garlic
1/2 red pepper
1 tsp. Old Bay seasoning
1 tsp. Mrs. Dash
Salt and Pepper to taste
Olive oil

Use a food processor to crush crackers and mince veggies. In a large bowl, mix salmon, egg, cracker crumbs, minced veggies, and seasonings. (If too dry, add another egg; if too wet, add more cracker crumbs.)  You should be able to use a large spoon or your hands to make 3/4“ thick patties. Heat oil in a cast-iron skillet over medium-low heat. When hot, spoon/shape patties and cook until lightly browned on one side. Flip and brown other side. Keep warm and serve with tartar sauce if desired.

I recently visited both of my sisters and their new baby girls. My sister in Chicago is on her first go-round and it was fun to see her “ooh” and “aah” over every little yawn and hiccup and remember how miraculous tiny babies are. My sister-in-law in Naples had a little girl about a month after my sister, but she’s number six in her family. She’s no less miraculous, but by now yawns and hiccups are ho-hum. What was fun about that visit was seeing how loved a baby in a big family can be. That little one has learned the “I’m bored, come love me” cry perfectly. She wails loudly and tearlessly for about thirty seconds, or until one of her brothers comes to pay her some attention. I picked her up after hearing this alarming sound when I first arrived, and she quieted immediately. I had a good chuckle, realizing how smart little humans are.

These visits, in addition to my stop in Sarasota to meet with my midwife for a check-up and to hear our baby’s heartbeat, reaffirmed my desire to do this whole baby thing again. The logistics, however, are a bit tricky. Plan A entails bringing the boat back to the Tampa Bay area in March, plugging the boat into a dock and waiting comfortably, near friends and family, for the baby’s arrival. Or, we can do like we did last time, and leave for a “two week’s vacation” and not come back. I guess that would be plan B. People have babies everywhere, right?  We’ve pretty much abandoned plan C, which was to go straight to Panama and have a baby there. That seemed a bit premature. We are eventually headed that direction, but we were planning a leisurely trek through the Caribbean island-hopping before we spend our time there, possibly preparing to go through the Canal.

The biggest hindrance to our happy-go-lucky attitude is our desire to have this baby naturally. People are always suggesting locations where we might find “U.S. style medicine,” but that’s exactly what we are hoping to avoid! Ideally, we would stop a couple months before the baby is due, find a local midwife, have the baby in a birth center or similar location, with as few interventions as possible, and recover at home. The birth center in Sarasota represents the perfect scenario for us, as it is homey, but away from home, close to a hospital if there’s an emergency and completely supportive of a natural, drug-free birth. It’s just a little hard to get to from, say, the Bahamas.

Although the other four children were born in a hospital setting, I always had midwives and always insisted on the nurses leaving me alone as much as admissible—fewer needles, fewer monitors, fewer, or no drugs. I’ve had good experiences, although I come off as a bit of a troublemaker. The average American woman arrives at the hospital, asks for her epidural and promptly falls asleep through the first part of labor. They are docile and need minimal help. The natural mom, on the other hand, requires constant companionship, and can be demanding of time and attention, always wanting to change positions, go for walks, labor in the shower, and so forth. She never just lies there, waiting for a baby to show up. It’s called labor for a reason! Of course, those that opt for a less painful birth may pay a price (and not just financially), since one intervention often leads to another (not to mention the risks of paralysis or spinal headache). An epidural can slow labor, requiring a drug to speed it up again. Sometimes the baby objects to this drug and appears distressed, and suddenly, what was a natural, normal process becomes a medical emergency requiring invasive surgery. The U.S. has abysmal rates of C-section, and also high infant mortality among developed nations, and much of this is due to the medicalization of childbirth. Of course there are lives saved by C-sections, but some are also unnecessarily lost.

What does all of this have to do with a life afloat? It is yet another aspect of a similar theme: we desire to do things thoughtfully, not just be a part of a system, to take responsibility for our lives and health, to be self-sufficient while recognizing our interconnectedness with life on this planet. Everything we do, including raising children, fits into this schema.

How can we make a thoughtful plan, but then ultimately leave the outcome to chance? It requires faith in Providence. We will make the best decision we can based on the variables of which we are aware, but be open to a different approach that may be better than we could have planned. For now, plan A is in motion, but we shall have to wait and see if our path leads that way or to another, as yet unknown plan.

Jay and I are pleased to announce that we will be adding a new crew member at the end of April/beginning of May 2011. That’s right. A very small, but significant, crew member.

People with whom we share this news often have interesting reactions.. I wish I could say that it is all congratulatory, but, sadly, that is not the case. I have no idea if you are frowning right now as you read this, or laughing your socks off.  If you know our family personally, I would like to think that you are saying, “hey, they have four cute, smart, mostly well-behaved children—more power to ‘em!”  Some people actually have the audacity to ask us if we know what causes this condition. To those of you who might wonder, we say, “Yes, and we’re very good at it.” (That smart response I owe to my sister-in-law who just gave birth to a very beautiful baby girl—the sixth little one in her family.)

The things that we say are often put to the test. This keeps us from becoming hypocritical. A good example of this is, “We believe that children are a blessing, not a burden.” Of course, we do not deny that parenting is the hardest job entrusted to humanity, or that it presents curious and difficult challenges (like, “how do we get that lego out of his nostril?”) We simply believe that child-bearing and hand-rearing are the most significant and lasting contributions we can make here on earth. If we do a good job, the legacy we leave may last generations after we are gone. Spiritually speaking, it is a job that has eternal value.

Because we believe this so strongly, we made a decision awhile ago not to do anything permanent to prevent children. That’s a tough one, since the boat was built comfortably for eight, and we can’t seem to swear off the activity that causes babies. We have gotten pretty good at timing, but it seems that one always seems to slip through the lines of defense. And thank goodness!!! If we had had our selfish way about things, we would have two boys, perfectly spaced. And that’s it. And how can we even imagine a life without Sarah? Or Sam, who always brightens our day?

We don’t regret a moment of the roller coaster ride of pregnancy and parenting that have been our life for the last ten years. (Well, maybe a few moments, but on the whole, we wouldn’t trade it for another life.) Were they all planned?  Of course! But not by us. We timed the first child and the others just showed up at the right time.  And this is yet another case where I would say that God’s plan is better than mine.

So, as we contemplate trying to cruise for a few months before we need to settle down to prepare for a new baby, and as we begin to make all the needed adjustments to our plans, we recognize that this is a gift. We don’t know what this person will add to our family, but as we have seen time and time (and time) again, it will be something wonderful. Challenging, of course, but wonderful all the same. A guaranteed adventure.

And to add some extra spice to the adventure, we are thinking about heading to Panama in time for the blessed event, to give the child citizenship in that country. We’re having trouble figuring out what that will be like (since I really like to go the non-medical route), so if anyone out there has a tip or a lead or a good birth story about natural childbirth or midwives in Panama, please email us!  Plan A is to play it safe and go back to Tampa Bay, but Panama is not off the table. Whatever happens, it will certainly make a good story someday.

We recently took a road trip. We had several errands to run—family to see, shopping to do in our storage unit and at Costco, friends to visit, cars to take care of, a life raft to pick up, and so on. It was a lovely trip; all the things we have missed were present in spades, and after having done without, were more appreciated than ever. The air conditioning was colder than we remembered, the date night was more pleasant and the French food more delicious, the family more precious, the friends more dear, and the Costco full of more things than we could fit in the back of our vehicle.

In short, we crammed a lot of enjoyment into four days. We were not, however, without concern or thought for Take Two and the two cats aboard. We had left the generator in an automatic-run state, secured hatches so they let in air but not rain, left extra food and water for the cats, and had asked a few friends to keep an eye on things. We were not sure what, if anything, would happen while we were away, though we could easily imagine a few worst-case scenarios.

We returned on a sunny afternoon, bailed out the dinghy, which had filled with rainwater, and unloaded the truck, heading back to our mooring ball at a brisk pace. We cautiously peered around inside the boat, looked at the battery monitor and checked on the cats (who meowed ceaselessly, “where have you been???”) but everything appeared in order. What a relief!

We all found ourselves a cool drink and stood around on deck, surveying our small domain. It was so good to be home, surrounded by the water, the sky, and the wind. They all felt like familiar friends welcoming us back. After being so comfortable in air conditioned rooms and fed so well at restaurants, I thought the readjustment to life afloat would be difficult.

Instead, I realized how happy I feel here, how cozy and comfortable our floating home, and how much we belong out on the water. It was a comforting confirmation that we are still on the right path.  Though this life costs something, it is worth every sacrifice. In the words of the old song, be it ever so humble, there is no place like home.

Have you ever gotten up in the middle of the night with your children? I mean, on purpose, when no one was barfing or crying or peeing the bed? To go stare at the sky, say, at one in the morning? That’s not a requirement, as far as I know, for being a good parent (though there may be some minor statute regarding homeschooling parents). But it is a delight, and not to be missed.

The first time I woke my children, it was just Eli and Aaron and they were very young. I coaxed them out of bed on a chilly winter’s night with the promise of meteors and hot cocoa in a thermos bottle. We tried to find a dark patch of sky under which to place our tarp and heavy blankets, but the lights of Clearwater, Tampa and St. Petersburg made for abysmal star viewing. We saw (maybe) one meteor, and that one was a long shot. There was just too much light. It was disappointing, though the fun of getting up in the middle of the night to drink hot cocoa makes for a good memory anyway. We always talk about that as the meteor shower that wasn’t.

This time, I planned ahead and came prepared. Every summer, the Earth’s orbit takes her through a field of debris from the comet Swift-Tuttle, and even sand-size particles can produce fireballs with long, streaking tails. I read up on the shower, studied the star chart so I would be able to easily find the constellation Perseus, for whom the shower is named. The meteors can be seen all over the sky, but if you trace their origins, they appear to be coming from the region Perseus inhabits. It’s well worth it, by the way, to find some illustrated Greek myths for children and read the story of Perseus defeating Medusa, the birth of Pegasus, and that celestial family including the easy-to-find Cassiopeia, Cepheus, and Andromeda.

There is very little light to compete with the stars and planets here in Marathon, so I spent some time a few nights in a row, watching for meteors, to make sure we would have success. On the night they peaked (early a.m. August 13th), I woke everyone up at one, as planned, and we brought pillows and cushions to the top of our main cabin and stared at the sky. At two o’clock, we took a snack break, and went back to bed around three.

In that time, we saw, on average, a meteor a minute, or “shooting star” as Sam likes to say. Sam saw, on average, two each hour, but that is because he was so excitable and chatty that he didn’t actually lie still and look at the sky. Sarah would exclaim, “I just saw a fireball!” and Sam would reply dejectedly, “I didn’t see it!” We would then chant, in unison, “You have to look at the sky to see it.” It was more like a meteor trickle, to be more accurate with our metaphors, but it was marvelous all the same. In addition, we observed the Pleiades in all their beauty, up close, and Jupiter and his moons through the awesome binoculars Jay got me for my birthday last year. And we laughed about everything, because, evidently, everything is funny at two in the morning. Especially farts.

It was so successful that I got multiple requests to try again tonight, but I am too tired!  We decided to make it an annual tradition instead, and bake star-shaped cookies in preparation for the midnight snack and star party. Even if you don’t live where you can see the Milky Way on a nightly basis, it would be worth it to go out on a clear night and throw your own star party. I know I’m not the only one who gets these hair-brained ideas, but I am often handsomely rewarded for following through with them. Happy sky watching!

I know I have to get used to it, but I don’t have to like it. The hard part about being nomadic is making new friends and then so quickly saying goodbye. Sometimes it is I who do the leaving, but sometimes a new friend sails off and leaves me feeling grateful, but forlorn. We have recently befriended another sailing family with whom we discovered common values—Davina is a fellow mom who has courageously left the dirt and submersed herself in the sailing world. But it is time for them to move on, and I’m so grateful for even that short time we shared. I’m hoping we’ll see them “out there” before too long. If I’ve learned anything about the sailing community, it is that their world is small and they keep bumping into each other at opportune moments.

In looking back over my life, I see how the right girlfriend has always been there at the right time, and so this is my humble tribute to those women who have helped make my life full and satisfying.

I don’t even know when it started. I have always had a friend—and I don’t take that for granted, because the world doesn’t promise that you’ll always have a companion for the journey. But I’m still friends with the girl who walked with me to school when we were six. I consider this a blessing.

I moved a lot as a kid, but everywhere we went, I made a friend. Of course, I’ve lost touch with many of them, but they all made the transitions to new places easier. There was Amanda in Texas, Jeni and Aubrey in Florida, Susan and Rebecca in high school, Heather during my college years in Vermont, and Kim and Amy in Paris. The same has been true in my adult life; Ellen, Kim, and Rhianna were there when I was a newlywed, figuring out what it means to be a good wife. Jen, Debbie, Angela and Sharon helped me as a beginning teacher. There were fellow moms like Becca and Annie to help me adjust to motherhood. Nicole helped me through a tough year when we moved back to Florida and I felt so lonely. And my neighbor, Tarin, went out of her way to make me feel welcome in Clearwater, and became like a sister during our time there. There were the homeschooling moms who met me when I was just getting started. Joan, Tina, Tracy, and Mindy had older kids that helped me see that the investment was worth it, and Kim, Mary and Margo were—and are—in the trenches with me. There were others who mentored me, or prayed with me, or just took me under their wing, people like Kim, Mary, Linda, Janice, Jan, Anne and Betty. And countless others. It’s starting to sound like an Academy Award acceptance speech. And how could I forget my sister, Sascha, sisters-in-law, Tennille and Robin, my cousin Gretchen, my mom, and my two mothers-in-law? Maybe I do take them for granted, but how fortunate I am to have that luxury…I know they love me no matter what, and they are never farther than a phone call away.

With this fruitful history, I shouldn’t be surprised that the transition to living on our boat came with the introduction of new girlfriends, but somehow it is always amazing when I find a kindred spirit. I am surrounded by the five people I love the most in this world, but I still get lonely sometimes for a good girlfriend. And just when I am missing the old ones the most, a new one turns up.

Learning to sail brought Josie, a teacher who became a friend, and Lupe and Leighia helped me figure out how sailing families adjust to living aboard. I met Kristin when our family was divesting itself of our worldly goods—including a vast children’s library and teaching supplies. I know that stuff will not go to waste, and how lucky I was to share the time in Bradenton with her and her precious family. When I was feeling lonely and isolated, a family with four boys sailed into our marina last winter and I found instant fellowship with Vicki.

It was Vicki’s advice, and example, to pray for a friend when I come to a new place, that I will take to heart. I don’t consider it an accident that my life has been interwoven with others’ so seamlessly. And whether we get to travel together for a few days or a few years, I will be grateful for the time we’ve got. I can just say, like that rambling award winner—Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!