IN TOKEN
OF MY ADMIRATION FOR HIS GENIUS (at seafaring and tax returns)
THIS BLOG POST IS INSCRIBED TO
KEVIN GIBSON
Call me Schlemiel.
Some days ago- never mind how long precisely- having little or no money in my (Hermès) purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of Catfish Lake.
Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November (fourteenth) in my soul…I quietly take to ship.
If he but knew it, my brother Kenny some time or other, cherishes very nearly the same feelings towards the water with me.
And so it began. My year before the mast.
Ship’s Log: Day One.
The wind was lively after lunch and so it seemed like a perfect time to take out a sailboat. Kenny – who hereby shall be known as Queequeg- concurred. Even better, he reassured me that he hadn’t forgotten one ounce of sailing lore that he and his shipmate, Barry Feldman, practiced for many years as campers at Ojibwa.
Commodore Feldman
In a confident mood, I made my way to the waterfront to board our vessel. A mighty Sunfish. Unfortunately, it wasn’t rigged yet and noble Queequeg seemed a tad confused. Luckily for all, Luke, a young lad who works for Glen- the harbor master- knew what to do. In a few minutes, he had our watercraft shipshape and ready to launch.
“Ahoy, Schlemiel! I’ll shove off and you jump in the boat,” ordered Queequeg.
“Aye, aye, Cap’n Sir,” I saluted smartly. And I proceeded to stow myself.
“Not in the bottom of the boat, you landlubber. On the side like me, you scurvy dog,” he corrected.
I took my place on the other side of the boat and braced myself for the zephyrs to carry us speedily away to the far Isle of B.
But nothing happened.
We were becalmed. We just sat there.
“Avast, Cap’n Sir. Why aren’t we coming about or jibbing or tacking or moving or anything?” I queried the old salt.
“Pull up the centerboard, you loathsome wretch, and soon we shall be speeding toward Hispaniola.”
I did as he commanded but still our jaunty ship failed to stir.
“Excuse me, Cap’n Sir, but shouldn’t you be moving the boom around or emptying out the fo’c’sle or jettisoning the ballast or unfurling the spinnaker or something?”
“Huh?” replied the captain.
But suddenly Aeolus, Ruler of the Winds, took pity on us. And before you could say, “Pequod,” we were moving.
“This feels great, Cap’n Sir,” I cried. “How fast do you think we’re going?”
“Don’t bother me, you hawsehole. I’m trying to tiller here. And you can drop the centerboard now. Watch the boom, sailor! Heads up! Oops, sorry.”
I was still rubbing my head when suddenly we found ourselves speeding too near the shore for my liking. The weedy bank loomed ominously close. On the starboard side (or was it the port?) was a docked Chapparal speed boat- sleek and very handsome.
And then Queequeg- with his keen harpooner’s eye- spotted him. Lurking to the the right of the Chapparal.
A gigantic Muskie- silvery, and as large as a sea monster.
Menacing and fierce. A Methuselah of a fish. Really, really old. Really, really huge. And really, really dead.
And here was our gallant, little vessel drifting inexorably ever closer towards Scylla and Charybdis. The Chapparal and the rotting corpse of the muskie were drawing us in with the power of a giant magnet.
“Cap’n Sir. Shouldn’t we come about or lie to or belay or get the heck out of here? We’re going to collide with that guy’s boat or the dead fish any second!” I exclaimed.
“Be quiet, you foul drop of bilge water! I am about to execute an incredibly difficult maneuver to put us right. It’s extremely technical and it requires all my skill to get this galleon going again. Now watch and learn, you NUB.”
And with that, as I looked on in wonder, Queequeg jumped out of the boat and grabbing hold of the line, he schlepped our brave Sunfish away from the menacing shore.
I was agog in admiration.
And once away from the twin horrors, we picked up the Boreas again and quickly made our way to the far shore of Catfish Lake.
“How ever did you manage that, Cap’n, Sir? What was that called? Ow!”
My hero worship was interrupted because Queequeq, in his deft and energetic movements handling the sail, had just trod painfully on my big toe and knocked off part of my brand-new pedicure.
“Sailing is a dangerous game. Not for lily-livered pond scum like you,” he said as he ignored my cries of pain.
“Shouldn’t we signal S.O.S. or fly the ensign upside or something? I need to go below, Cap’n, Sir.”
“Remain at your post, you futtock. Or else you shall face a court martial.”
His threat silenced me. And though my toe throbbed painfully and I knew that Nguyen- my manicurist- would be mightily displeased, I manfully sailed on.
We had been out on our voyage for what seemed like years. I glanced at the sun and did some calculations with my sextant.
“Isn’t it getting time for Eliza to do the rock-climbing wall? You don’t want to miss that, Cap’n Sir.”
“Aye, matey, you’re right there. Time to put in.”
And he turned our brave schooner homeward.
Fortune and fair winds favored us. Except for the part where I had trouble wrestling the centerboard out, we made a graceful landing in port.
As I tripped and fell out of the boat, I, Schlemiel, gave humble thanks that I hadn’t had to float to safety on the Cabin 12 plaque.
The drama’s done.
FINIS.
The comment that engendered this reply has temporarily disappeared. Hopefully it will be re-posted soon.
Thanks for the assignment, Professor. I can’t wait to read it. It sounds fascinating. Sure hope I can get Cliff Notes via the Internet. Thanks. Sorry I was late putting this up. I was composing an opera.
Call me Ishmael or better yet call me spoiled. But when I sail on Royal Caribbean I never run into these problems. And don’t worry, while you are sailing the high seas you can get a brand new pedicure.
Good point, matey. And I’ll just call you Dr. Gas Passer, if you don’t mind.
Great story! But sailboats are too full of drama and injured toes for this boater. I’m glad mine came with twin 496 engines. The only drama/pain with that happens at the fuel dock.
Glad you approved, Admiral. Btw, that’s, word for word, Melville’s original dedication. Except his was to Nathaniel Hawthorne- who was not a CPA, I don’t think.
Ellen, just why do you want us to call you Schlemiel? What’s wrong with Ellen, the name your parents gave you when you were first born? If you want to save a lot of time, read the 1814 novella about the man who sold his shadow to the devil, rather than the 1851 novel about a monomaniacal quest to avoid the required reading list.
Thanks for the do-over, Doc. Is my grade going to go down one letter?
Ellen, in my classes, everyone who shows up and puts in the effort gets an “A” … I find that more learning happens when we dissociate the pedagogy from the grading. BTW, a colleague of mine remarked that higher education may be the only enterprise where the customers want less for their money.
Good philosophy. Does this mean my puzzle work gets an A?
A+, Ellen. Give Our Regards to a Broad … that we constructed together has to be one of the best (and most fun) puzzles in my ouvre. And (spoiler alert), there are more in the pipeline!
Meanwhile, those of your loyal readers who truly like puzzles may want to take a crack at Not the Retiring Sort, which has a really amazing trick that my collaborator, Marcia Brott, came up with to honor one of her long-time mentors.
You are a vile opportunist I gave you an inch and you took a puzz-el. But I give you an A for this effort. And why aren’t you beta testing our next masterpieces right now!
VILE anagrams to EVIL. There is a reason, highly relevant to the subject of your post, that I referred to that specific puzzle.
And yes, clever of you to let everyone know about the great new puzzles that are awaiting beta testing.
But if I may turn to the substance of your post, yes I too had to suffer through the required reading lists when in high school. Your retelling of Melville’s tale is a marvelous effort that parodies quite a few of the high points, while being nowhere as long (and boring).
I just printed out the puzzle and will solve it. All is forgiven.
UPDATE: I really liked clue 8 Across of the “Not The Retiring Sort” puzzle.
Brilliant! I loved the mash up… next year Kenny should take a sailing lesson from your neighbor, master seaman Brian. Or better yet, ditch Kenny and go sailing with Brian. He loves having company and Laura gets sea sick at the thought of going out on a boat.
A brilliant comment! Finally, someone who appreciated what I accomplished here. You are a discerning reader and a great addition to this blog. Love to the clan.
I had a feeling that learning to sail from Capt. Francesco Schettino was a bad idea. O well we made it back for dinner!!
LOL! Did he offer you lessons or were you at the helm of the Costa Concordia? Even though, we are related to Mickey, it probably wasn’t a good idea to let him teach you.
Next year….The Chicago to Mackinac Race! Piece of cake.(Except for seches!)
Next year we let Kevin take us out and feel those twin 496’s!!
Aye aye, Cap’n Sir.
You’ll have to hang on to your hat Ken – she scoots!
glad you made it back you intrepid sailor, just like another…
“It was the devious-cruising Rachel, that in her retracing search after her missing children, only found another orphan.”
I so love this! I wanted to use the real ending and couldn’t make it fit. Bless you, Starbuck.
Outstanding voyage, Schlemiel! I had many hours of Sunfishing, but never an adventure as harrowing, or funny, as that!
Thank you. Praise indeed coming from one who actually can quote from The Great White Tale itself. And we will have to talk “Lolita” at some point.
Lolita, because it was controversial and sensationalized, was the book that put Nabokov on the world map, but also tainted him in the minds of idiots. Their loss. I mentioned it to a not-very-bright lawyer I worked with, and he said, indignantly, “Nabokov? He was a pervert!” Humbert Humbert wasn’t Nabokov but blinded by his own narcissism, like a number of Nabokov’s characters, is deluded into imagining a world that exists only in his mind, in this case seeing a real young girl as an imagined young girl who existed only in his fantasy world. As much as anything, Lolita is a very funny travelogue of America, seen through European eyes, but it’s so much more. The movie adaptations were just OK because it would be impossible to really film it. And the second Lolita, Dominique Swain, even at 15, was not credible as a victim. At a sleek and athletic 5’9″, she could have cleaned Humbert’s clock pretty easily if she’d wanted to.
The poetry, the puns, the word play, this is a masterpiece. The mordant and unsentimental eye on American culture was glaring and brilliant. This book is a masterpiece. Thank you for speaking on its behalf. Loved James Mason and Shellie Winters. They were so perfect.
My Dad didn’t like James Mason’s acting mannerisms. Called him “Sniffy”, which is pretty accurate. But he wasn’t bad as Humbert. And Shelley filled the bill as Lo’s mother. I can’t think who I’d cast in those parts now. My Humbert would be biggish, rotund and not nearly as good-looking or suave as he imagines himself to be. Lo’s mom would be desperate, somewhat ditzy and boozy, and full of the scorn that hell hath no fury like when she realizes that Hum isn’t there for her.
It’s hard for me to picture actresses who could play the mother of a fourteen year old- and she can’t be eye candy. Blowsy and kind of pretentious and affected. Winters had this down. Maybe Melissa Leo.
VERY FUNNY AND CLEVER.
Thanks, X1. I had to read it in Mrs. Gage’s junior year class. I hated it. Thar she blowed.
How about Oprah as her mother Blowsy, check, pretentious check , affected check.. We do live in a color blind society don’t we?
You just made Nabokov smile.
Ellen (aka Schlemiel)………Ship Ahoy!?!?……..Permission to come aboard?!?!?
Just wanted to anchor a few comments regarding your seaworthy post about Post.
First, thanks for allowing me (Commodore Feldman) to be included in Day One of your Ships Log. That photo was taken some time ago after instructing Kennyqueg not to play with sharp harpoons. Next, I thoroughly enjoyed and appreciated your high seas adventure. Not only was I not star-bored, I genuinely laughed my gunnels off. You were in very capable hands with Kennyqueg as the mast-er of the vessel. Personally, if it was me, I would rudder have Kq at the helm than any other scallywag.
In closing, I would like to share that your story was so inspiring for me, that I have added a couple of new delicacies to my diet……..Plank Steak and Seas Candies.
Until your next re-port Ellen (aka Schlemiel)………….Commodore Feldman docked!!!!!
Welcome aboard, Commodore. Glad you found everything ship shape. Proud to be sailing under you. (Ahem.)