Vacation Vocation

I arrived in Deer Isle this year to the mystery of why the derelict rowboat on the front lawn had been filleted. This boat was a big player in my childhood, with beautiful lines, great stability, and supreme rowability. Then, one year we carefully scraped, caulked, repainted, and launched it, but it kept taking on water even after the boards had swelled. It had finally gone punky. We hoisted it to the porch rafters, where it stayed until we retired it to the lawn a couple of years ago. There's a local children's book by Robert McCloskey called "Burt Dow, Deep-Water Man", in which Burt's leaky old dory sits on the lawn planted full of geraniums and Indian peas. We never did get around to planting in ours.

So when I got here this year I was suprised to find that the floorboards had been pulled off the rowboat and carefully arranged on the lawn. It was sort of fascinating looking for about five minutes, whereupon it started to look like a truck on blocks. There are little nails sticking out of all of the ribs, and with Pappy constantly poking his ball underneath it's a bit of a menace. I briefly considered whether my cousins, who had been staying at the place before I arrived, would have done this. I quickly decided no, it had been my insane brother's handiwork.

My brother is a sprint hobbyist. Over the course of a vacation he'll take up guitar, or watercolors, or carving, or whatever for a couple of weeks. I haven't talked to him yet, but the word I am getting over the family grapevine is that last month he decided he was a boatwright and plans to restore the rowboat next time he comes up. Uh hunh, this sounds promising.