Just Me

Just Me
Look,I'm just sayin'

Thursday, July 14, 2016


 Every once in a while I like to use nautical terms. Talk like a sailor. I was, after all, born on an island and spent twenty years in the Navy. I spent some time in my youth in and around the water as a matter of course. The wind, the sand, and sea have always been a part of me. Now I have never been a great hands on sailor. I have never owned a sailboat or anything larger than sixteen feet. There is an old adage about boat ownership, a boat is a hole in the water you pour money into. I have found that to be true. An expensive hobby for sure. But I have sailed far from home. Now I feel like I have dropped anchor in a foreign port, becalmed and low on supplies. I need someone to finance my next journey. That has always been the way of it with explorers. They are ready to go, but need the finances to do so. Hey, if Isabella hadn't financed old Chris, we wouldn't be here.
 I think this may have something to do with finding the place I belong. Where do I fit into the picture ? I think most of us ask ourselves that question at some point in our lives, and if you don't , you should. You can only be a native in the land where you were born. I'm no native to Greensboro, Md. I just sailed into town about twenty five years ago or so. I have become a local though. That is simply because if you ask me where I live, it is locally. If you ask where I was born, that is another land altogether. Being a native is superior to being a local. That is the perception isn't it ? A native can speak with authority, whereas the local may not. A fine distinction perhaps, but a distinction nonetheless. The problem with being a local is a simple one, by the time you have been one long enough to gain credibility, you die. You never live long enough to say that one phrase, I've been here all my life, that ends the discussion. That is the trump card !
 Now that I have retired I feel a bit more anchored. Could be I am moored. Now you can be moored with an anchor but it usually indicates you are tied to the pier. In the Navy when a ship is moored the call to " shift colors " is made. To the sailors onboard that signals the end of the journey, you have reached the pier. That pier may be a foreign port, or your homeport, until you hear the call, " underway " you are stationary. I'm feeling moored. It is a rather sad feeling, but not unexpected. It is just the call of the sea, instead of the call of the wild. It is a difficult thing to explain. The wondering what lies over the horizon syndrome. It is the foreign land that is the attraction to the sailor, the sea all looks the same. To navigate nature to reach a destination is the challenge man has always faced. Some chose to do it on land, others on the sea. In the twentieth century we took to the skies ! The goal is the same however, to go. It is a restlessness.
 It is a feeling that comes and goes, in waves. There are times when the waves come crashing down and others when they just soothe your soul. It will always be so. No matter if I went somewhere else, the feeling would return. And that is a strange thing given my penchant for nostalgia. You would think I would want to stay put, to enjoy whatever memories I have rather then yearning to make more. The thing is, I sometimes feel I have been thrown about by nature and had no control over my course. I just got swept away. I have done my best to navigate, but what port have I reached ? Or more importantly perhaps, what port did I wish to reach ? Life is quite the voyage and mine isn't over. The question remains, where am I going ?