Just about any journalist worth a pinch can write or recite a good story. A first year cub reporter at a newspaper can put to paper what he or she has been told in a coherent manner. Broadcast media personalities just read the news to us from prompters or from a page, where the words have been written by someone else. Wouldn't it be way more interesting if our 6 o'clock news anchors, Jonathan Crowe and Freddy Hutton, were in their stories instead of just being talking heads in suits?
What really separates me, as a blogger, a writer and a story teller, from 99% of my compatriots is my ability to create the story. Let me be totally honest. It's never my intention to be cast in the lead role of my own dramatic comedies. There's nothing in it for me to write better stories, at least not materially. I don't have ads on my blog so there are no extra pennies rolling into my bank account from having more page views. I don't have any sponsors, nor do I ever envision any publishing company knocking on my door to sign me to a book deal. If I had my druthers, I'd very much prefer to sit back and "live, laugh and love" at the rest of you rather than the table being turned the other way, as it so often seems to be.
My most recent "slice of life" is still unfolding. I hope to be around long enough to tell you how it turns out, but I may be dead by then! I suspect my baby brother, Bill, wants me out of the picture. If he catches up with me today I'll probably end up in the middle of Torbay (the actual bay of Torbay) wearing a pair of size 10 1/2 cement shoes. My only saving grace from suffering that fate is he no longer has a boat. I took care of that yesterday.
Okay, I didn't actually sink his 18 foot long, ocean going beauty. I almost did. What I did do was drive her over a humpback whale sized rock that was lurking precariously below the ocean's surface just off Outer Cove beach. That rock hasn't moved since I first visited that beach in the mid 1970's, so pleading ignorance just won't cut it. I did it - plain and simple. It kind of makes the title of my most recent story, "Stund Arse", apropos.
As it turned out, the boat itself is unharmed. I can't say the same for the nearly new and very expensive motor that saddles her bow. She's a beauty....or at least she was. A propeller is always a victim when rocks are involved. The good thing about them is that they are relatively easy to replace and relatively not too hard on the pocketbook. As my luck goes, this engine has fancy wings just below the propeller. Now, it used to have fancy wings. You guessed it, relatively speaking, these wings are not cheap. (I keep using "relative", but I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's to remind Bill that we are, after all, brothers.) The guy at the service shop, where I went even before taking the S.S. Minnow back to Bill, said a part can be welded on the wings and the motor will work as good as new. That would be fine if the boat and motor belonged to me. I've been taught that when you borrow something, bring it back the same or even better than when you got it. Therefore, new wings it has to be.
I awoke this morning after a restless night. The sound and the feel of the motor hitting the rock played over and over in my head. I couldn't sleep anyway as I had to keep one eye and ear open in case Bill came to extract revenge. I don't have any fancy man toys for him to flatten. There are no quads, trikes, bikes, or fancy four wheelers in my yard. My only concern was that he may try to do what we brothers did to one another when we were kids - the dreaded wedgie. Thankfully, Bill didn't show up. Maybe tonight I'll be able to wear my thong pj's to bed and not worry so much.
To add sea salt to my wounds, the weather this morning was perfect. As I looked out my front window I could see several boats out on Torbay. The morning mariners would be jigging for cod, as the recreational fall fishery had opened last weekend and runs until this coming Sunday. Just as I love to be out on the water fishing, so does Bill. It was why he bought a boat in the first place and why I was glad he did. The same boat that now sits at the repair shop in the west end of St. John's, which is a long way from the sunny skies and warm winds gracing the calm waters of Torbay this morning. The repair plan is for the propeller to be replaced by early this afternoon. The replacement of the wings is a more delicate job, so I've scheduled that for next week after the recreational fishery is over. That way, Bill should have his partially repaired boat back today and can get out this evening.
I'm not sure what long term damage has been done to my relationship with my younger brother. I hope this is something we'll be laughing about for years to come. Until the actual laughing begins, I probably shouldn't think about asking him if I can use his boat tomorrow?
I do know that having the starring role in this particular story has not only not made me wealthy, but it has also has had the opposite effect. I hope not too many of my future stories end up costing me so much. I may have a solution to my financial quandary. Before yesterday's incident, we did manage to haul eight cod into the boat. It's against the rules, but I'm sure the authorities would understand if I tried to recoup some of my losses by selling these fish. So if you know of anyone interested in some fresh cod fillets, please send them my way. The cost - only $400 a pound (cash only please).
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