Paying Homage

So now you've bought the boat and every waking hour thought and talk is about the boat. Get used to it 'cause it never goes away:

Paying Homage

We’ve all been through it! Our significant others decided to go live on a boat and take us with them. We took a look around and queried, “But what are we going to do with all of our stuff?” The answer was quick and flippant. “We’ll sell it! After all, it’s just stuff.”

So we, the reluctant partners, began the painful process of divesting ourselves of our prized possessions. We even felt a little guilty if we got emotional over our Grandma’s cherished silver tea set or the kids’ grubby Teddy bear. “How could we be so materialistic?” we derided ourselves.

Then in the midst of packing and tagging, what should pull up to our curb? A UPS truck? What’s this? Doesn’t he know we bought a boat? We’re selling things, not buying things. We have broken the unholy chains of materialism. Amen! Allelujah!! The doorbell rings…

I throw open the front door. My loins are girded for the battle against this dark angel of temptation whom I used to welcome with open arms. Of course, that was in my unenlightened days of catalog and internet shopping orgies. That was before I found my salvation in “The Boat”.

Chin jutting forward, I stated, “You must have the wrong address.”

“Is this number 10 Easy Street?”

“Uh, yeah, but…” I sputter.

“Just sign here, lady,” he directs right before he yells over his shoulder, “Hey fellas, start unloading.”

Wait a minute here! My eyes zone in on the dollies of boxes bearing a litany of names like West Marine, Boat US, Marine Electronics…. An ugly suspicion begins to form. My narrowed eyes search out the captain who has been cowering in the corner.

“But, Honey, it’s for “The Boat”, he stammered.

That’s when I had a revelation. For the captain, the boat had become a sort of goddess. He devoutly believed that we had to surrender all our worldly goods and make enormous donations to “The Boat”. In exchange, “The Boat” would provide for us a life of happiness and well-being. The captain believed our only path to salvation was to follow “The Boat’s” commandments. By doing this, we would keep “The Boat” happy and never suffer her wrath which could include such calamities as; dead batteries, high engine temperatures, and bad head smells.

For you poor unenlightened souls “The Boat’s” commandments are:

Thou shalt love “The Boat” above all other boats, and just about everything else except for your mate, although in some cases even the mate can be considered sacrificial.
Thou shalt never take “The Boat’s” name in vain.

Thou shalt honor “The Boat” by weekly pilgrimages to the nearest West Marine Store.
Thou shalt not covet another’s “Boat”.

Thou shalt not bear false witness against “The Boat” by blaming her for mishaps that were really your fault.

Thou shalt give testimony to “The Boat’s” glory by speaking endlessly and exclusively about “The Boat”.

Thou shalt not leave “The Boat” for a house, condominium, or RV.

Thou shalt fervently treasure the hardships “The Boat” bestows upon you such as limited water, limited electrical capacity, and plentiful head smells, for these are the things that make you strong (in more ways than one). Do not congregate with those persons who would try to convince you otherwise.

Thou shalt not bring shame to “The Boat” by poor navigation, sloppy sail trim, or mortifying anchoring techniques.

Last, but not least,Thou shalt subscribe to every boating magazine available. Thou shalt go from port to port spreading their words of wisdom, thus increasing sales and the editors' cruising kittie.

*You also earn special graces from “The Boat” if you fall on the floor, contort your body, and speak in tongues while changing her oil filter.

I’m sure you’re asking if I have been converted. Alas, I’m afraid not. This year I brought aboard one box containing books and a video. Nothing to offer up to the goddess. The captain had thirteen boxes of offerings ranging from a new GPS (I guess she wasn’t happy with the three we already had ), countless shackles (before we had the boat, I was aware of only one use for shackles, but I’ll exercise ”restraint” and not go in to that),. I’m sure a sacrificial lamb is tucked in their somewhere. Is there hope for deprogramming the captain? About as much chance as that snowball had in hell. You can learn to live in harmony, though. It’s all about compromise and respecting each other’s different beliefs and callings. Remember my Grandma’s tea set? Why don’t you come on over to “The Boat” for tea and then we’ll do some penance by going shopping—for “The Boat” of course. Wouldn’t she look better with me in that cute little outfit I found.