Happy Ours

Portland equals family. That is what I’ve come to know over the past decade and a half. I’m really talking about Rick’s family here, but over time they have of course become mine. One way or another, all of the far-flung members of the tribe make their way to this city in Maine for a short period of time in the summer. It’s kind of like the monarch butterflies who migrate down to a tiny village in Mexico every year. We’re just as colorful, though perhaps not in the same way…

As always, there are big plans for outdoor adventures. This year we will be hiking, canoeing, and otherwise raising Cain in nearby New Hampshire. Our ranks have swollen recently with the addition of a few significant others among the younger generation, so we are a rather unwieldy crowd.

Typical Boothby hike planning, with maps on the hood of a car

Unfortunately, on these outings we are missing our most intrepid soldier. Dick, the patriarch of the Boothby clan, has been laid up in a rehabilitation facility, recovering from a stroke he suffered a couple of months ago.  Always the energetic and active senior, the loss of mobility and independence due to this stroke has been a tough pill to swallow for Dick. His perseverance during this difficult recovery period is truly an inspiration to us all. I think he enjoyed his numerous visitors, even if we rather overwhelmed the nursing staff. 

Rick and I have parked the boat on a mooring ball at the Portland Yacht Club, and plan to keep it there for a good week and a half. After family filled days, we return each night to sleep aboard, and each morning begins with a leisurely cup of tea in the cockpit. Gazing out at all of the neighboring boats, I can’t help but be amused by some of the names people have chosen for their vessels.

Puns are very big in the boating community. Of course there’s the ever-present and over-obvious play on the word “sea”: “Seafari” or “Fantasea”. Plenty of other, even worse puns abound – “Happy Ours”, “Nauti Girl”, and the ironic “Knot Too Bad” are prime examples. When Rick first bought one of his previous boats and was searching around for a name, my ex-husband, aware of Rick’s academic interest in psychoanalysis, suggested “Freudian Sloop”. Thankfully, a non-punny name was ultimately chosen.

Another theme among boaters is to poke fun at the amount of time and money that ends up being showered on these floating cash eaters. I’ve seen more than one named “Daddy’s Paycheck”.  I’ve even seen the idea stated more baldly with “Money Pit”.

One boat near us  –– “Go Dog Go!” –– is obviously owned by a fan of early readers. On the other side of the anchorage, a less imaginative owner kept it simple: “Steve”. My particular favorite is the boat named W.T.F. (What The F---?!!!) Upon closer inspection, the acronym really stands for “Waterborne Transportation Facilitator”. Doubly funny.

Before leaving Portland and heading south, we tried to get the family out on Valkyrie. Sad to say, once everyone was loaded on board and we had managed to set the sails, a terrific downpour ensued. This made for a very short sail, along with some pretty soggy Italian sandwiches. A more extensive “Seafari” will have to wait until next year.