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Picture Credits:
Well, there she is... home...
I have named her simply "Sailboat" About five years ago I bought her for $500. She is a "Clipper" made by Clipper Marine in California who has gone out of business. Her interior was entirely rotted and not a thing was salvageable. I realized, too late, that she was just too big a project. On day, I just started chucking things out of the back of "The Clorox Bottle," basically a powerboat with some plywood stretched over her, which was my floating home at the time. I decided I was just simply going to hit the road and sing and play for pennies in a cup. That's how desperate I was. Then a strange thing happened. While the local pastor was grabbing what he could, a man , a small man came over and looked at me and said, "What's going on, Bob?"
I simply babbled. "I'm otta here,I'm otta here !"
Michael studied me for a minute then said, "Looks like you could use a hand."
I stopped dead, stared at him and said, "Are you offering?"
He studied on it for about a half minute, never taking his eyes off me, then answered, "Yes."
The pastor mumbled about having something to do and that he really didn't need any of the things he had found anyway. He left in a bit of a hurry.
For over a year, Michael and I worked together to build an interior. I knew a bit but Michael was an expert glass man. I simply acted as gopher and helper. Michael in fact had worked for Gulfstar before, making boats.
All Michael wanted was that I provide food and pay his very basic expenses. He wouldn't let me move aboard until he had finished painting her interior.
Three years ago, Michael came over to my boat and was wheezing. He could hardly talk and was asking me to help get his batteries to shore to charge. I dragged him over the side of "Sailboat" and waited for him to catch his breath. He didn't. I realized something serious was happening so I called Coast Guard for help, told them to get an ambulance ready and I would meet them on shore. It was two days before Christmas. I visited Michael in the hospital but he seemed to be staying the same, neither better nor worse. They told me he had pneumonia. On Christmas day I learned that Michael had died at 5:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve.
At the time I was writing Marine Life" in a hardcopy version which I passed around to people. I wrote the Christmas story in November, a full month before all this happened. In it I discussed death and said that when I die, for those who cared at all, they could just light a candle to remember me... I also said in my final sentence, referring to Jesus, "Light a candle on Christmas Eve and thank God for His greatest gift to mankind." I have looked at those words many, many times since then and somehow I cannot believe they came from me. They were put there by someone else...
Michael was a brother, not by birth but by actions. I loved him as much as I could ever love someone. My greatest worry at first was if Michael was with God. I am now reassured that he is. Those words, written by "someone else's" hand have reassured me.
* * * * * * * * *
Sailboat provides the necessities. She is 30 ft long and 8 ft wide. She has stove, sink and toilet. She has no refrigerator, washer, dryer or TV. I have an outboard engine for her but must install a new bracket. Her mast is not stepped and she cannot sail. Someday, Lord willing, I hope she will be able.
Power at anchor is a real problem and the dock is out of the question, both in terms of expense and the fact that people who live aboard their boats are not welcome in Florida. She sports 4 solar panels on the back roof which are barely visible. They keep up with basic power but if I run the computer, then I have to use a generator. This site is run from "Sailboat." The connection is called CPCD which is accessed through special cell phone towers. It is horrible slow and unreliable. The charge is a flat $55/mo, unlimited usage. Someday, I hope to be able to change over to satellite, which claims to be nearly as fast as DSL. The monthly is about the same but it would require a $400-500 investment for equipment, which is out of the question at this moment.
Life at anchor is very pleasant though, once you get used to eating canned or dried food, drinking room temperature water and living without certain items which many consider necessities. I may move to a dock if I can, simply because of the power and Internet connection. However, I would much rather stay at anchor and row in the 1/2 mile that I do every day.
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