Into the mystic

Hark, now and hear the sailors cry,
Smell the sea and feel the sky;
Let your soul and spirit fly, into the mystic.
-Van Morrison

It was Saturday morning and the day’s agenda was mapped out with domestic chores. I had bathrooms to scrub, a lawn to mow and a garden to till.

A phone call changed my plans.

It was my friend Sailor Jeff inviting me to join him on his sailboat for the day. That's him in the picture, looking all nautical with his vessel under sail.

Initially, I tried to beg off. I explained that I had bathrooms to scrub, a lawn to mow and a garden to till. Speaking slowly, as if to a six-year-old, Sailor Jeff pointed out that the bathrooms and yard work would wait for me, but this particular combination of sun, wind and opportunity would not.

Teri heard my end of the conversation and saw my conflicted expression. She whispered something like “go sailing, you fool.” That was all the convincing I needed.

Before I continue this story, let me tell you about a few of my other friends. I’m going to wander a bit, but I promise this will all come together if you stick with me.

One of my friends (another Jeff, as it happens) is a warrior, and he brought me two presents when he came home from war. I don’t know if it’s customary for warriors to come home bearing gifts, but this one did. I treasure both of them.

One is a hefty brass medallion about the size and shape of a dog tag listing his unit and dates of deployment with Operation Iraqi Freedom. Apparently everyone in the military is expected to carry a similar medallion with them. These chips often come into play in a game that takes place when warriors encounter other warriors in bars, the rules of which I only vaguely understand. I’m proud to have a friend like Warrior Jeff and I’m proud to know he and other strong men and women like him are out there protecting me. I keep the medallion on permanent display on our fireplace mantle.

Warrior Jeff gave me a second amazing gift when he returned from harm’s way. The other present was a 300 megabyte external hard drive packed to the brim with music files. I call it the jeffPod. For those of you who don’t know, 300 megabytes is enough store a lot of music. A whole lot. I don’t know how much exactly, but the jeffPod runs thousands of albums deep. If it’s a popular song from the last 50 years, odds are it’s hiding somewhere in the bowels of the jeffPod.

As someone who has made a living first selling and now producing copyrighted material, I have some deep misgivings about source of all the music on the jeffPod, but it is an amazing and wonderful thing. Somewhere in Iraq there must be a computer that, in addition to tracking enemy positions, has provided a great deal of joy to a lot of lonely soldiers and airmen far, far from home.

I have another group of five friends who are scattered across the country. They live in Texas, Vermont, New York, Georgia and Louisiana. This group convenes once a year in New Orleans for Jazz Fest. That’s our excuse anyway. Mostly we convene for the joy of each others’ company. Jazz Fest is coming up in a few weeks, and to prepare for it, I’ve been listening to the music of some of the artists I’ll be seeing there.

One of the many acts on my must-see list this year is Van Morrison. A few days ago with a few clicks of the mouse, I transferred a bunch of Van Morrison’s music from the jeffPod to my iPod. What a revelation! I had no idea how talented Van Morrison is or how many of his songs are standards. I’m amazed at his range as both a singer and a songwriter, and this discovery makes me wonder what rock I’ve been under for the last several decades.

Our drive to Lake Martin took a little over an hour, and for most of the way, Sailor Jeff and I listened to a Van Morrison playlist on my pod. We rode and talked and listened and the time passed quickly. It made for an especially pleasant ride for two friends off on an adventure.

My journey aboard Jeff’s beautiful 23-foot sailboat, The Dawn Treader, was exhilarating. It was a windy day, so I had a thrilling introduction to the sport of sailing. Even a rank beginner like me knows that high winds make a sailboat move faster. What I didn’t realize until Saturday was that boats under sail also tip from side to side when maneuvering, and that angle also varies in proportion to the speed of the wind.

The Dawn Treader has a gauge on board that shows how much the boat is tipping to the side at any given moment. When the boat heels over at an angle of 30 degrees or more, it’s a dramatic event for a first-timer, and that happened quite often on our trip. The gauge maxed out at 45 degrees, and once on the trip we pegged it. That was crazy fun and got the old adrenaline going.

We returned safely to the dock near sunset, ending one of the best days in my Best Year Ever.

The next day it came to me—just how many of my friends played a part in building my perfect Saturday. Many of these friends have never and will never meet each other, but they came together and made the perfect gift, just for me.

Sailor Jeff played the starring role on Saturday, of course, and I am deeply grateful for his generous invitation, his companionship and the special time we shared. My Jazz Fest friends inspired the soundtrack, and Warrior Jeff’s gift was the source. Finally, Teri, my Best Friend Forever, wrapped the ribbon on the gift. She set me free, so it was she who ended up scrubbing the toilets while I was out sailing without a care in the world.

Treasure your friends, Discerning Reader, because your friends are your treasure.

When all the parts of the puzzle start to look like they fit,
Then I must remember, they’ll be days like this.
-Van Morrison