Anchors aweigh

To "weigh anchor" is to bring it aboard a vessel in preparation for departure. The phrase "anchor's aweigh" is a report that the anchor is clear of the sea bottom and, therefore, the ship is officially underway. ~Wikipedia~

So, following my wife's birthday dinner last night, my youngest was in our room jabbering about whatever it is he jabbers about when he's half baked (I tend to only half listen, and in this case was half paying attention to the conversation he and she were half having while I was half reading a book and half watching television - one of those evenings, you know...), when he suddenly stopped, grinned that goofy grin of his, and stated laughingly, "I have a job." The half realizations of the half stoned...

By all the measures I've adopted to gauge milestones in my life, I think I've officially reached one. Probably a big one. My wife and I are both gainfully employed, very nearly debt-free, and have manged to raise two wonderful children who are both college graduates, both now gainfully employed, both healthy, neither in trouble with the law, burdened with unwanted progeny or encumbered in complex relationships. We have helped them build sound vessels in which to navigate the tumultuous seas of life, and they are pulling slowly away from the dock to which they've been tethered for more than two decades. Admittedly, they're still puttering around the harbor and tying back up to our craft from time to time, but like baby birds testing their wings, they will continue to flitter further and further from the nest, and soon we'll see them disappear over the horizon, headed off on their own adventure, setting their own course and guiding their own vessels through life. Fair sailing, sweethearts...

To complete this tortured analogy, I think we need to imagine ourselves players in Kevin Costner's Waterworld. You see, our "dock" is in fact nothing more than another slightly larger, slightly more solid vessel, bobbing gently on the sea of existence, anchored well but affixed firmly to nothing, for there is nothing firm to which we can or should seek to affix ourselves. And the anchor we chose to let down more than twenty years ago to stabilize ourselves while we engaged in the boat building and sailor training business is one that can be drawn up at any time. And now we are very nearly at that point where we must decide what our next destination is, hoist our sails, head our bow quartering off the prevailing breeze, and get underway. The only other choice is to sit in this same spot on the vast infinite sea of life, bobbing up and down gently at times, and storm tossed at others, but always at the mercy of whatever intentionally or unintentionally floats our way. And that would be a waste of potentially favorable breezes, no?

There has lately been a lot of talk in the news about Abby Sunderland, a 16 year-old who was raised on the water and whose parents launched her on a global circumnavigation that came up short when her mast was snapped by a giant wave. I feel sorry for her and for them as regards the aborted voyage, but am happy for both that she survived and is coming home safely. What a splendid adventure, and all I can say to the critics is, "Shut the fuck up!" My god, to have raised such a brave and competent young lady and entrusted to her such a spectacular journey speaks volumes on the positive side for the whole family. A 16 year-old young woman is in the prime of her life - Joan of Arc was heading toward leadership of an army at this age, for goodness sake. Abby's skills were certainly sufficient to the task she chose. Bad things happen in the sea of life, and even more so on the actual ocean, where giant waves not only snap small craft masts but swallow whole enormous vessels full of experienced sailors. That she was able to survive this lesson and have it inform the balance of her existence is a wonderful gift that most of us never experience - certainly at so early an age. It didn't kill her, so will make her stronger...

I pray that my two young allegorical sailors don't make the avoidance of challenge the cornerstone of their lives, but rather seek adventure and new experiences and to suck every morsel of living they can out of the brief years they've been allotted. I want them to keep their vessels solid, practice their craft and hone their skills, learn to read life's rips and eddies, understand the stars and and tides and currents and prevailing winds. I want them to chart their own courses and steer their own vessels and appreciate the diverse cultures and experiences that will come their way. And most of all, I want them to keep us posted from time to time on their whereabouts and conditions, to know that we will do the same, and that they are welcome to rendezvous from time to time wherever we happen to be in our travels, and to tie up or sail alongside for a bit if they are inclined. And if they get caught in a storm, lose their sails or masts or lines, and find themselves foundering, to know that we'll get to them if we can, and help them refit, stock up provisions, and get back underway. Because, after all, that's what we sailors do...

So, anchor is stowed and we're tacking to port. Let's do this thing...