Boat Passion and Legacy

Summer days were the best days, because my summer memories are best.

 Summer Prompt 2: Where did the family’s boat legacy come from? Who started it? 

Have you noticed that boats and boating take up a lot of space and attention in my blog? Every year, another boat story is added to the collection of reminiscences. This is especially true when winter thaws and spring clean up involves boat patching, bottom painting and engine repairs. Somehow the time-consuming efforts, constant expenses, and frustrating problem solving endeavors melt away once the boat(s) bobs in a dock slip and escape to the bay and beaches happen within minutes. I imagine the same mania occurs with RV-ing, camping, and road tripping, only local and wetter. Enthusiasts amass equipment and tools, plan their ventures, and head for fun and adventure. Us boaters take to the sea in vessels of varying size, mode of propulsion, and purpose. We prefer spending quality time at sea and on beaches. 

A family may need two cars (one of which with a hitch to pull a boat trailer), but according to my dad, you can never have enough boats. The fervor goes beyond recreational hobby. It is a passion, an unreasonable passion to those unfamiliar with the life and family DNA. During the off-season there are four, sometimes five small boats in my side yard. My sister has a large houseboat in a slip and one on stilts in the yard. My other sister lives on her boat. Many family members are also boat owners. We venture to beaches, fish, water ski, and drop an anchor in a quiet cove and let the kids splash and swim around the boat. 

My family’s affair with boats did not come out of necessity. My Italian ancestors were farmers and artisans. The sea may have been in their sight, but their daily toil was on terra firma. Their American experience initially placed them in cities, cramped into tenement apartments and working in factories or shops. Although water surrounded the cities, owning a boat was not a tool of their trade. 

I like to say the legacy of boat ownership came from Dad, but it went further back. My Great Grandma Nelly loved the beach and swimming in a salty sea. She rode the subway with her children from the Lower East Side to Coney Island during stifling city summers. The beaches were giant playgrounds complete with the ocean as the pool. There was nothing better than to spend hot summer days sandy and wet at the beach. At one point she rented a barge that was docked on the River and piled her brood on it for the summer. Everyone came to swim and play. I am not sure how Nelly managed the logistics of accessing the barge and her daily chores. It was probably a lot more fun than sweltering in a crowded tenement apartment.

The real love affair began when my father was a boy. Several families went in on the infamous Country House—a bungalow on the south shore of Long Island across the street from a canal that led to the Great South Bay on the south shore of Long Island. It was their respite from the summer heat in the city, providing a safe and fun place for the children and cherished memories for several generations. They justified needing a small boat to bring the kids to the bay and teach them to swim, fish, and dig for clams.The one requirement was that the boat had to float. Aunt Lil tied one end of a rope around her waist and the other to an oar-less rowboat. She swam the rowboat, filled with kids, through the canal to the bay beach. It did not matter that the beach was within walking distance from the Country House. This way was so much more fun and they had a boat.

My dad, Bill, was that kid who took apart his mother’s toaster just to see how they worked. As a teen, he was the kid who fixed stuff–chair legs, hand lawn mowers, sputtering radiators almost everything. At the Country House, Bill and his cousins found sad boats rotting in yards, fixed leaks, painted, scored propellers, ropes, and steering cables from junk yards. They also acquired a small engine and parts. Bill twisted, banged, tightened, loosened, added and tinkered until cheers rose. The engine sputtered to life. 

They sped through the bay, learned to water ski, went wherever they wanted to go on the bay, and came home with blowfish. As handsome young men, the boats became girlfriend magnets. 

More often than not, something needed an adjustment during their outings. Bill usually had a few tools and spark plugs on board and sometimes had to spit gasoline into a carburetor to get a reluctant mortar to start. Several times they flagged down a passing boater, usually a friend, and got a tow back home. No matter the outcome of the day, the summer tomorrows held a boat adventure waiting to happen. Bill and his cousins continued their boat ownerships that became part of their family’s stories for decades. 

There are so many family boat stories. Do you have one to share? Stay tuned for more of my summer prompts boat stories. 

Enjoy ❤️.   Like 👍.  Share 😊. 

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