Sailing with Dad,
Thinking back to a sunny summer afternoon, I recall an enjoyable starboard tack heading west. Although I’m still unsure sure what came over me. What ever it was it did involve a moment of mental conflict. Looking your way I wondered could he really swim. I was uncertain, and could not remember ever witnessing this skill. Yet there he was sailing in his speedo. And why on earth was he the only person I can think of who wore a competition swimsuit to go sailing. At the time it was more than my young mind could tolerate. I thought to my self, for goodness sakes every one else is wearing shorts! But there he was looking so content; Old Style in one hand, tiller in the other. Where other people on the boat? I can’t recall, but it seems there were? None of this mattered; the important thing at hand was a sequence of actions that needed perfection. One hand for the Old Style, (and he gave it so willingly I must have asked really nicely), second hand for the center of his chest, becaus