The Sailing Elvis Has Just Dropped Off The GOP Plank To Hillary

13 May


South Cumberland Island


Date: Tue May 13, 1997 7:24:04 PM

Sounds like buckets of fun! I've only been sailing once, a couple of Septembers ago on the 40-foot skiff owned by an ex-congressman partner at my wife's lobbying firm. Well, it's not her firm. She's merely the financial manager and Macintosh guru for a small aggression of about 28 people. But back to sailing. I really don't know the life, but it would come rather natural to me I think as the son of a Navy man. And I spent quite a bit of time on the intercoastal waterways of southern Georgia and northern Florida as a teenager. My dad skippered me and my five siblings to school in his 12-foot outboard in my junior year in highschool. We were living on Cumberland Island with access only by air and by sea when he was working for the Carnegie-Rockefeller family. The island has since been federalized via the wiles of eminent domain and made into a National Seashore. This is the same Cumberland where John F. Kennedy Jr. recently got married there at Greyfield Inn (now operated by Carnegie grandchildren named Ferguson). The Inn is still in the family but I presume it will also go to the Feds when the last of my generation passes as per the agreement in the condemnation settlement. My wife and I last visited there in the spring of 1993, and graciously most of the island is unchanged from my own era. The two years prior to my junior year I worked on the island as a day laborer and part-time cook when the construction company was still there before Mrs. Rockefeller fired the whole crew except for my dad since the job was winding down, and the contractor was soaking up the bucks on a cost plus basis. Two summer "family cottages" were being built in 1968-1971 by Whitlock Construction. Barging materials on an old converted shrimpboat, I often got to navigate the 45 miles up to Brunswick on Sunday evenings after flying in on the boss's Piper Cub early Saturday morning. I loved the water. Loved the sky but suffered terrible bouts of airsickness. The landing strip was a feral horse and cow pasture which usually required several low swipes at the herds before we could land safely.

So, while not a raw greenhorn, I'm certainly not the seafarer you are, and yet I can appreciate your enthusiasm. Take care on the high seas, ole boy, that smelly old Davey Jones locker ain't a fun place to spend your sunshine years . . .

I'm miffed that Bell Atlantic failed to show today to install my ISDN boxes. They came last week to prep the lines, but this no show today is especially aggravating because Sue (being the insatiable technofreak she is) stayed home so that she could watch and learn, pick a brain or two, but by three o'clock and two solid hours of telephone roulette, being put on hold, being disconnected, being transferred from one department to another, and finally being told typical phone jockey fibs about clerical mixups, and even, finally, a confirmation of an afternoon appointment, here it is 7:15 PM and nothing, not a word, a phonecall or anything. This is not like Bell. I'm rather shocked at getting this sort of runaround from them after being lifelong loyalists to the original. And dare I wonder if they'll show tomorrow...


© 1997 - 2013, Gabriel Thy. All rights reserved.

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