According to my mom, the first complete sentence I ever uttered, as a child, was as we were passing a harbor, and I said, “Look at all the boats!” So it was only fitting that I should marry a man who’s a boat freak. Sandy is also a car and plane freak—basically anything with an engine, that moves. Never mind we live in an apartment and don’t own a vehicle of any kind, not even a bicycle; he subscribes to car, aviation and boating magazines. This, I kid you not, is his bedtime reading material.
This year, when I asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday, he said he’d always wanted to go to the antique boat show parade at Mystic Seaport, in Connecticutt, which conveniently was the Sunday following the Big Day. So we rented a car and off we went (guided by the handy new GPS device I’d gotten him for his birthday). It was a gorgeous day and when we arrived we were greeted warmly by the Seaport’s publicist, a nice guy named Mike. He’d gotten us front row seats to the parade from the best spot of all: the presenter’s boat, an antique marvel in its own right. We headed upriver, with about forty other folks, and to the music of a Dixieland band, watched the parade go by along the Mystic River, with the presenter calling out the various names and owners of the boats, which ranged from four-seater ChrisCrafts to yachts that had weathered many a sea voyage. Sandy was like a kid at Christmas, he was so excited; he darted around the boat, snapping photos right and left with his fancy Nikon camera. Me? I was just happy to have a day off, to sit on the water with a cool breeze blowing and beautiful boats to look at.
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