Rocky Point, New York, April 4th, 2021, Easter Sunday – Winter has passed, the snow here in New York is long gone and Maxi 95 owners in Scandinavia and elsewhere in Europe are putting their boats in the water.
Preparing this house for rent has taken longer than any similar project I have worked on, and is coming up on four times longer than I had planned. I hadn’t planned to be away from Jennifer this long, I hadn’t planned to spend this large percentage of my remaining life here, doing this.
I hadn’t realized how much of my self-identity is that of a sailor. By now we should be in the final stages of preparing for the next trip. Irrespective of the project here in New York, we would not be leaving this year as we have in others. Family matters on my side bring me to New York, family matters on Jennifer’s side keep her in Port Townsend. The current plan is for me to fly up to Homer sometime in mid-July and prep CaroBabbo to go into the water by August 1.
She (Caro Babbo) needs a new cutlass bearing and shaft seal.
She has sat through a Homer winter, and I don’t know what damage the freeze and thaw cycles might have done. I think I prepped her well, so I don’t expect anything.
In the last week, there has been time to think. I took on physical labor in this project, something I did not want to do. I’d wanted to outsource the entire project bringing in parallel groups of craftspeople to bring the house into shape to rent. Instead, I find myself laboring seven days a week, 10 to 14 hours a day. That really isn’t correct, the first bunch of hours are spent on desk work. Some of it unrelated to this project, much of it related to this project. By 8:30 AM or so, my day starts at 5:30, I am painting, or raking, or doing wallboard work, or electrical work, and occasionally plumbing.
This last week has been lighter, in these last two days I have not worked full time.
I’ve wasted time, I know I should be calling it relaxing, I have been watching some bad films, contacting some friends, and thinking about our trips.
Yesterday and this morning I was drawn to thoughts of people. In the first few years, each trip was interrupted by one of us flying a few thousand miles for family business.
One year there was an unexpected trip requiring Jennifer to travel from the West Coast of Vancouver Island to Los Angeles: 24 hours via bus, ferry, and airplane. Money was tighter then. Although the only improvement we could’ve made to the elapsed time would be to hire a floatplane. Even though money is not quite so tight now, I don’t know if either of us would have sprung for that.
One year I flew to New Jersey to attend the funeral of an ex-in-law. Funerals are the only time I see my ex-spouse in person. Though to be precise, I attend the funerals on her side; she does not attend funerals on my side. There is one last aged relative left on her side. When he passes, I suppose I will never see her again.
Does every single word, thought, or image take you to another past time and place? If I allow myself, I will interrupt each thought I think or sentence I speak or hear with a vacant-eyed stare to some time or song in my past. When I was a teenager my mother advised me to make memories. I think she meant memories that I would be pleased to revisit.
The dissolves to times past are the scene changes of movies – Is that how these memories have always appeared to everyone or are mine formatted by Hollywood?
As I travel through my past, I realize that the details of my failures are fading as are other highly emotional moments. I was married for many years to an academic whose research area was memory, especially shared memories. Memories, I learned, are reinforced by telling them and telling them with the people who were there. I have a dear friend who was single for many years. Her apartment contained bookshelves full of photo albums. When I became single and had no one to recount those many memories with, I saw my friend’s bookshelves anew. These pictures enabled her to reinforce her memories and show herself that those things really did happen, where my memories, before I met Jennifer, are now no longer shared with anyone and seem to be fading and which I question.
On Long Island, a high school sweetheart and I spent time together. She told me her side of our teenage breakup. The reasons she recounts to me are unrecognizable. Did she really break us up for those reasons? I am alternatingly amused in that my interpretation of what happened (it ended suddenly and we did not see each other again for more than twenty years) is so far off from the real reasons (in dispute resolutions between companies, I have seen the two sides’ stories seem like two companies that have never met), or have each of our memories changed so much over time. There is a journal I kept around that time that might help; perhaps I was not at fault as I interpreted those decades ago.
As I veer into my network of memories, how many are accurate, and does it matter?
Jennifer will arrive in a few days when we will take a land cruise zig-zagging our way to a brother in the Denver area. My three weeks have taken more than three months and have yet to yield a completed project. I work better alone.
“As I veer into my network of memories, how many are accurate, and does it matter?”
Amazing, John – thank you.
Very insightful description into how your mind works.
I like to think that the memories we recall are the ones that bring back memories good and bad, and although they may have changed slightly with time, they allow us to revisit our past to either sustain us or help us become better people. I know I am not the same person I was 50 years ago and I would like to believe that I have, like fine wine, become better with age because I have used those past experiences (memories) to change and grow.
My memories of you are all about our childhood and how we enjoyed being children without a care in the world. I was the tomboy and you guys allowed me to play with you, but I do recall how upset you would all get when we had races and I always won, lol !! (That is my recollection and I am sticking to it, lol !)
As a woman, I often look back to our mothers and the lives they had, so very different from the path I followed. I was amazed to hear of your Mother’s accomplishments after her accident – what strength and conviction she had….I remember her as the very nice lady who lived 2 doors away and was always welcoming to me. Those are the memories that for me are important to pass along to my son and daughter so that they can see not only what is important, but how the role of mothers has changed in so many ways for the better of everyone.
I could go on and on but I won’t. Suffice it to say that memories are oh-so-important for many, many reasons. It highlights just how important memories are.
Cherish your memories my friend.