Monday, December 23, 2013

The Huron Carol ('Twas in the moon of wintertime")


'Twas in the moon of wintertime when all the birds had fled
That mighty Gitchi Manitou sent angel choirs instead;
Before their light the stars grew dim and wondering hunters heard the hymn,

Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.

Within a lodge of broken bark the tender babe was found;
A ragged robe of rabbit skin enwrapped his beauty round
But as the hunter braves drew nigh the angel song rang loud and high

Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.

The earliest moon of wintertime is not so round and fair
As was the ring of glory on the helpless infant there.
The chiefs from far before him knelt with gifts of fox and beaver pelt.

Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.

O children of the forest free, O seed of Manitou
The holy Child of earth and heaven is born today for you.
Come kneel before the radiant boy who brings you beauty peace and joy.

Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.


This, Canada's oldest Christmas carol, was written by Jean de Brebeuf (ca. 1643), a Jesuit missionary to the Hurons. "Gitchi Manitou" is Algonquin for "God".

The carol is sung by Heather Dale, and sung in Wendat (Huron), French and English

A Blessed Christmas to all !

Mike

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Thanksgiving, Pilgrims, Samoset . . . and Beer?


I posted this two years ago, and was recently asked (OK, one person mentioned) that I run it again. The original came from a posting by Delancyplace.com.

In his book
A Voyage Long and Strange, Tony Horwitz muses on the discovery of America after hearing from a Plymouth Rock tour guide named Claire that the most common question from tourists was why the date etched on the rock was 1620 instead of 1492:

" 'People think Columbus dropped off the Pilgrims and sailed home.' Claire had to patiently explain that Columbus's landing and the Pilgrims' arrival occurred a thousand miles and 128 years apart. ...

"By the time the first English settled, other Europeans had already reached half of the forty-eight states that today make up the continental United States. One of the earliest arrivals was Giovanni da Verrazzano, who toured the Eastern Seaboard in 1524, almost a full century before the Pilgrims arrived. ... Even less remembered are the Portuguese pilots who steered Spanish ships along both coasts of the continent in the sixteenth century, probing upriver to Bangor Maine and all the way to Oregon. ... In 1542 Spanish conquistadors completed a reconnaissance of the continent's interior: scaling the Appalachians, rafting the Mississippi, peering down the Grand Canyon and galloping as far inland as central Kansas. ...

"The Spanish didn't just explore: they settled from the Rio Grande to the Atlantic. Upon founding St. Augustine, the first European city on U.S. soil, the Spanish gave thanks and dined with Indians - fifty-six years before the Pilgrim Thanksgiving at Plymouth. ... Plymouth, it turned out, wasn't even the first English colony in New England. That distinction belonged to Fort St. George in Popham, Maine. Nor were the Pilgrims the first to settle Massachusetts. In 1602 a band of English built a fort on the island of Cuttyhunk. They came not for religious freedom but to get rich from digging sassafras, a commodity prized in Europe as a cure for the clap. ...

"The Pilgrims and later the Americans who pushed west from the Atlantic didn't pioneer a virgin wilderness. They occupied a land long since transformed by European contact. ... Samoset, the first Indian the Pilgrims met at Plymouth, greeted the settlers in English. The first thing he asked for was beer."


A Happy Thanksgiving to All

Friday, November 22, 2013

Mr. President Comes To Ottawa, A Remembering

It was Tuesday, May 16, 1961, a day many of us had been working towards for weeks. As was the practice those days, the Government Hospitality Committee was responsible for all VIP visits and the Canadian Army's Directorate of Public Relations provided the technical media coordination.


Earlier in the month three of us, plus the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, met with the White House advance party to plan President Kennedy's two day state visit to Canada, his first presidential visit to a foreign country. The ever-cigar-smoking Pierre Salinger, JFK's press secretary, was there but soon turned over media responsibility to his deputy.

Media arrangements for covering VIP visits to Canada were generally somewhat casual. The working press trusted us to get them to where they needed to be, providing them with necessary background materials, and when necessary, arranging pool coverage of more intimate or somewhat restricted events. RCMP presence was more to keep amateurs away from the working press than to "police" the media. It was all quite calm and refined. The arrival of the White House Press Corps came as a shock!

The presidential arrival was to take place at Ottawa's Royal Canadian Air Force Station Uplands. We had anticipated two or three photographers' locations to catch JFK and Jacqueline arriving on Canadian soil. Not good enough, said the White House press, we need a camera truck at each end of the runway. Why? Well, you never know if Air Force One will crash and we need that picture.

And that same sort of aggressive approach continued on for most of the two days, diminishing somewhat as they learned to trust what we were doing, and that we were doing it for them. It seemed as though their experience was, for the most part, confrontational rather than collaborative.

The arrival went as planned, if not two hours late. A state visit, Governor General Georges Vanier and Madame Vanier first greeted the American couple. Then Prime Minister George Diefenbaker and Mrs. Diefenbaker.

The party then moved inside the RCAF hanger for the official welcoming speeches, a moment when JFK won the hearts of all Canada when, following the Prime Minister's greeting first in English and then French, President Kennedy responded.

He explained that he had planned to reply in English and then ask his wife to respond in French, but after hearing the prime minister's fractured French, he had no hesitation in using his own French-speaking skill! A politician from the Manitoba prairies, the Prime Minister's French was always painful and the butt of much late night Canadian humor.

And when on the final day of the visit, addressing the Canadian Parliament, President Kennedy, uttered his famous aphorism, "Geography has made us neighbours; history has made us friends," 

Canada swooned!

Before he retired his commission, the writer of "Aft Deck Musings . . . ", was the news editor for the Canadian Army's Directorate of Public Relations and responsible for national media coordination of VIP visits.


Thursday, November 21, 2013

Saint Patrick's Day 1943

On the North Atlantic, 1943, a selection from the diary of the British Merchant Navy's only sea-going chaplain at that time, a new position and rank designated by the Admiralty as "Fleet Padre." In his three years at sea he served aboard 26 ships.


"Forty ships of various types stretched across thre Nort Atlantic in eleven short columns, moving eastward, bound for Liverpool from Halifax. A small escort, one destroyer and two corvettes, is doing its best to maintain patrol ahead and to the flanks. The area these little craft must cover is great. The corvettes have not much speed, and the weather is against them.



"As night falls the moon, near full, comes through the clouds to shine brightly on the whitecaps. It is just this sort of night when it is most difficult to spot the wake of a submarine or its bow-wave as it moves to the surface. Sudenly the peculiar metalic "pung" of an underwater explosion is heard. The alarm bell rings. We are out on deck to see what is happening. Two columns to starboard a ship has burst into flames amidship. A corvette hurries to the stricken ship which is now rapidly dropping astern.


"A few hours later three more explosions are heard, followed by depth charges. Two more ships in the outside starboard colum have been hit, and one torpedo has streaked right across the convoy to pick off a ship in the extreme port column. One ship goes down in a matter of minutes, leaving nothing but a cluster of bobbing red lights on the surface where a few of her  crew have got away and are floating with the lights on their Mae Wests to guide any possible rescuers. But with this sea and so small an escort there is little chance of rescue.


"Another lull for a few hours follows. We still keep on our Mae Wests, our all-weather suits, and fire-proof hoods in their cases. (The tanker I was on, the NICANIA, was carrying several thousand tons of 100-high octane at the time.) The crew stands in groups on the after deck. I make my way down to the Engine Room and have a few words with the Chief and the Second; all strained white faces, for in a bad hit there is little chance of escape for them and things that happen in the Engine and Boiler Rooms can be slow and horrible.



"Suddenly a loud Morse distress signal. An explosion nearby follows. We run out on deck. The ship immediatle ahead of us, another on our starboard beam, and a big whale-factory ship on our port bow have all got it. The first is going down rapidly; the second more slowly. The great whale-factory is blazing furiously forward of her bridge. As we slide past her the glaring heat and spark-laden smoke sweep over us. We can hear the shouts of men trapped in her foc'sle,The greenish glare of the fire lights up the whole vessel. We see the crew silhouetted against the flames working to get two boats forward on the port side lowered. It looks as if the flames are actually licking all around the men. And there is a Mate standing there, his hands in his pockets, calm as if it were a boat drill, giving orders clear and unruffled  - - 'All clear? Lower away. Steady her. Cast off your stern line'. We can hear him distinctly above the noise of the sea and the roar of the fire. It steadies us a bit.



"Daylight brings a lull in the confusion. Gaps arwe closed up and the convoy reforms. We feel that anyway we shall be undisturbed until night falls again. Hardly had I lain down before the bell rings again. Three more ships have been hit. One goes quickly. Another burns steadily as we leave her until, far out on the horizon, we see an explosion and she disappears. The third remains for a long time with just her bow and foremast showing above the surface.



"During the afternoon more escort show up. The topmasts of two destroyers are visible on the horizon. But some of the ships are understandably jittery by this time. Four of them open up with their 4-inch guns, thinking that what they see are periscopes. The destrioyers are not so much endangered as we are, with shells landing all over the place. A small Panamanian tramp joins in the fun. Everytime she fires her stern gun, she puts on an extra five knots, and she comes 'whoofing' up the column in grand style - - a pioneer of jet-propulsion.



"That night we hear what sound like depth charges in the distance. When morning comes, we count up the convoy. Three more are missing. Fifteen have gone in 24 hours, and of four stragglers, we subsequently are told, three are lost. Eighteen out of forty ships and a great company of gallant men is the toll.



"Addenda. Some years ago after the war, I came acrtoss a paperback of the submarine campaign from the German point of view, Wolfgang Frank's 'The Sea Wolves', which included the attack on my convoy.  I got into correspondence with him to help clarify my recollections with his version. Of course we were looking at it from opposite ends of the torpedo. That book was rather shocking then. At the time of the attack we figured that there must have been three submarines that were able to keep just ahead of uus all the time because the torpedoes came in three at a time from the same angle nearly every time. When I got it from the point of view of the submarine commanders, there were thirty submarines around us. So it was surprising that any of us got out of it."



After the war this former Merchant Navy chaplain went on to serve Episcopal parishes in California and Washington State until he retired. He died in 1993 at the age of 92. Today, November 21, would be the Rev'd. Eric W. Jackson, my Dad's, birthday.


Saturday, November 16, 2013

A Gem of a "GEM"

They say that the happiest days in a boater's life are when they buy a boat and when they sell a boat. So, if both happen a day apart, does that make the boater doubly happy?


Yes, after having her for 22 years we sold the Lady Mick last month. It was sad to see her go after so many great times and adventures aboard (not to mention the hours and hours of work on her). She was our home for 16 years. Yet. the next day we bought the Gem, a 1932 Stimson Dreamboat, all 26 feet of her are a real classic!





It all happened this way. We had Lady Mick flyers posted up all over, one spot being the notice board at the Wooden Boat Foundation in Port Townsend. We were up there this September for the annual not-to-be-missed Wooden Boat Festival. Parking being tight, June hopped out of the car to see if, hopefully, our flyer was still up. It was, but "you've got to see this other one on the board." I parked and did. It was for Gem. Bitten, we got in touch with her owner, and to make long story short, we made a conditional offer on her.




The buyers of Lady Mick live in Olympia, as do the sellers of Gem, so as we delivered Lady Mick that afternoon in Olympia we took possession of Gem that evening (we had done sea trials and a survey prior).

Gem has a rather unknown history. She was reportedly built in 1932 at the Stimson Boat Works, Seattle. There is the Stimson Marina on the Ballard side of Seattle's Ship Canal, right next to Kovich-Williams, which also built boats. Gem may well have been a work boat, for she had a quarter-berth in the wheel house and galley forward and below. From a scant log book, she was originally gas powered with her present Yanmar 27 hp diesel engine installed early 1980's. Jerry Anderson, from whom we bought her, has done a simply marvelous job of restoring her! Jerry was, and is, a master craftsman.



The galley has now been relocated to the wheelhouse, a marvelous stovetop/heater (Wallas) installed.

Opposite the helm seat is a "first mate's" seat. Aft of the wheelhouse is an open cockpit



What was the galley area now has two single bunks with a head forward.

Admittedly, Gem is a very different vessel for us after the 46' Lady Mick. No longer needing the size for living aboard, we're now looking forward to a smaller, simpler boat just for cruising (not to mention maintaining).

Any suggestions, hints, rumors, scuttlebutt as to Gem's lineage would be much appreciated. In the meanwhile, we're proud to be her current stewards.

If all goes as planned, hopefully you may see Gem next September at the Port Townsend's Wooden Boat Festival, if not before at the Classic Yacht Association's rendezvous at Seattle's Pier 66 next June, if we're invited. For now, Gem enjoys her new covered slip at the Port of Edmonds.


Yes, it was a double happy day!






Galley, starboard side of the wheelhouse. Drawers still have to be made.


Nice drop windows.


A classic.


First mate's side of the wheelhouse.



Side decks a bit narrow.

Saturday, July 6, 2013

M.V.Lady Mick has been sold


On a mooring buoy in Reid Harbor, Stuart Island
Photo by Lesley Scher


The Good Ship Lady Mick Has been sold

It has been a wonderful relationship these past 22 years, 16 of them living aboard on Seattle's Lake Union. Now the Lady Mick has been sold.

1959 Richardson flushdeck motor yacht built in North Tanawanda NY, their largest model and an honest vessel! She was extensively remodeled and customized to be a very comfortable liveaboard. We loved her, as did many family and friends who joined us cruising the Salish Sea. Now she has new stewards and a new home port in Olympia. 




Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Swinomish Channel To Be Dredged


Good news for boaters transiting via La Conner is this news item run today by the Skagit Valley Herald (excerpted here with permission)
After years working to secure funding and attention from the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers to dredge the Swinomish Channel, many involved in the effort celebrated the start of construction with a kickoff event Tuesday morning at the Port of Skagit’s La Conner Marina.

Keeping the channel open is important for the economic vitality of the region by supporting marine manufacturing businesses such as Mavrik Marine, providing safe passage to mariners sailing through the area — loosening their pocketbooks along the way — and for La Conner Marina, a property owned by county taxpayers that brought in $2.6 million in revenue in 2011, Ware said.
Col. Bruce Estok, Seattle District commander for the Army Corps, said in a speech that the channel is authorized to a 12-foot depth, but sediment build-up in some areas of the 11-mile-long channel has left a depth of only 5 feet. He said in a few instances of mariners getting stuck on sandbars, the U.S. Coast Guard has been unable to immediately help due to shallow conditions.
The project was awarded $2.2 million from a federal fund of $30 million for low-use navigation projects on the nation’s waterways.
Port Director Patsy Martin said in an interview that port officials had visited Washington, D.C. for a number of years to lobby for earmarks to dredge the highest areas of the channel. This dredging, however, will be more extensive and take the whole channel down to its authorized depth of 12 feet, with over-dredging to happen in problem areas, Martin said.
U.S. Rep. Rick Larsen said earmarks for federal funding of dredging efforts in the channel went dry in 2010. He said he and business leaders, port officials, tribal leaders and state senators worked together to convince the corps that the channel is important infrastructure for the local economy.
American Construction Co. Inc. of Tacoma was awarded the project with a bid of $1.9 million. The corps will oversee the project.
Kevin Culbert, project manager for American Construction, said the project will continue approximately five months, and the channel will not be closed during that time.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

"When Did You . . . . . "

"When did you ever get into boating?"

This question asked recently by a training client, one that in one way or another seems to come up often in casual conversation with both clients and friends. So, a trip down memory lane . . .


In those summer days between eighth grade and starting high school, a favorite pastime was to ride my bike down to the East Palo Alto marina, a few miles from home in Menlo Park, hangout on the docks, making a bit of change helping wash down a boat or two, getting a hoped-for ride. doing a bit of sail-handling.



The local yacht club sponsored a Sea Scout ship there which had a war surplus small patrol boat, probably around 35 foot. They also sponsored a second boat, I think it was 32 foot, a double-ender lifeboat, 'bought' from war surplus for the great sum of $5! The USN was almost giving away boats at that time; surplus jeeps were being sold for $25 or less, and other vehicles and small boats were being barged out into the Pacific and dumped. This, of course, was 1945-46, right after WWII.

Sea Scout Able Seaman,
my highest rank


I'd been in Scouting, but Sea Scouts (today I believe they're called Explorer Scouts) was new and exciting to me, so I joined and became part of the group organized around this lifeboat-soon-to-be-sailboat. The boat was bare, just hull plus one sweep and a few old oar locks - - no rudder or tiller. We spend days cleaning her up, giving her coats of paint.The local yard donated and stepped a mast on her. Someone else produced a set of sails. An old boatright supervised building the house on her. Within a year of many, many weekends, plus a few days here and there of school days skipped, the SSS Intrepid was "launched". Nothing electrical (kerosene lamps, only), no bunks, just hammocks, wood/coal stove, and two heavy long sweeps (oars) for power when needed. She was wishbone rigged with center-board, and her sails actually matched and fit. (Wishbone is how today's sailboards are rigged.)



And out we'd go every weekend, prowling South San Francisco Bay, occasionally ending up on a mud flat, and comfortably wait for the next tide. We took soundings and made our own charts. In the evenings we practiced semaphore. We taught ourselves how to "shoot" the sun and the stars. We prided ourselves coming to dock under sail, with one kid (usually the most junior) having to jump off at the end of the finger pier and dash around to lean against the bowsprit as we came in to keep us from crashing. We were quite good at it.



Sometimes we'd make a "grand cruise", perhaps all the way up to San Francisco (it took a day to tack up, three hours to come back running wing-on-wing) staying at one of the swanky yacht clubs there. Or a longer run up to the North Bay. We'd always go ashore turned out in our Sea Scout uniforms, cleaned and properly creased, looking just like real Navy, even mimicking a sailor's roll as we walked down the streets and hoping that everyone would think we were. It was a great life!

Farallon Islands, a national wildlife refuge, is closed to the
public. the area is heavily shark invested.


Perhaps our grandest cruise was out and around the Farallon Islands, some 20 miles west of the Golden Gate Bridge. We had our adult skipper, yet we were pretty naive about green water. No radio or the like (remember, we were "primitive"). We navigated with chart and current books, compass and sexton. Our skipper was seasick and below deck most of the time. We had a ball, and two days later almost surfed back on a flood current under the Golden Gate with, of course, hundreds of spectators leaning over the bridge rails admiring our fantastic courage and excellent seamanship!



A year or two later, this time now with radios and navigation system (fancy for that day) we sailed down the coast to Monterey and back, a good two weeks, and again, a great time. 



The SSS Intrpid taught me more than I can now remembert, as well as gave me countless hours of youthful joy - - a truly wonderful time in my life.



Now, like many boats her age, when I last saw her ten years later she was beached on a mud flat on one of the many estuaries in the South Bay, her house and mast rotted off and only a single lamp still attached to what was left of the overhead. By now she is probably buried under a high-rise condominium.


And that's were it all started.


Thursday, August 9, 2012

Sunday, August 5th, Oak Creek, Wisconsin



From a column by Eboo Patiel, and reprinted here from Soujourners, with permission.
Imagine the terror.
You are in a temple, a safe, sacred place, preparing for a morning service. In the kitchen, you are busy cooking food for lunch, while others read scriptures and recite prayers. Friends begin to gather for the soon-to-start service.
At the front door, you smile at the next man who enters. He does not smile back. Instead, he greets you with a hateful stare and bullets from his gun.
Such was the scene Sunday at a Sikh gurudwara in Oak Creek, Wis., just south of Milwaukee, where a gunman, Wade Michael Page, killed six and critically injured three others before being shot down by law enforcement agents.
As Page began his shooting spree, terrified worshippers sought shelter in bathrooms and prayer rooms. Rumors of a hostage situation surfaced, and those trapped inside asked loved ones outside not to text or call their cell phones, for fear that the phone ring might give away their hiding place.
The first police officer to arrive on the scene stopped to tend to a victim outside the gurudwara. He looked up to find the shooter pointing his gun directly at him, and then took several bullets to his upper body. He waved the next set of officers into the temple, encouraging them to help others even as he bled.
That magnanimity is a common theme among the stories of victims and survivors of the Wisconsin shootings. Amidst terror and confusion, Sikhs offered food and water to the growing crowd of police and news reporters outside the gurudwara as part of langar — the Sikh practice of feeding all visitors to the house of worship.
We now know that Page was part of a neo-Nazi movement. But let us not take these moments to look into the heart of hate. May we instead shed light on a religious tradition of peace and generosity, the kind of generosity that inspired distraught worshippers to feed others just minutes after they had been brutally attacked.
The Sikh community has been one of welcome and hospitality since its founding in India 500 years ago. With their belief in a supreme Creator and a deep respect for all human beings, Sikhs place strong emphasis on equality, religious freedom, human rights, and justice.
Sikhs from India began immigrating to the United States in the late 19th century, and currently the Sikh popuation numbers about 314,000 in America and 30 million worldwide. Today, Sikhs are successful business people, active community members, and advocates for social justice.
Their love for all humanity inspires the hospitality we witnessed so vividly outside that Oak Creek gurudwara, though it has not protected them from being the targets of numerous post-9/11 hate crimes.
In living out that hospitality, Sikhs remind us of our own quintessentially American generosity. A core American idea is that we welcome contributions from all different groups and build cooperation between people of diverse backgrounds. 
While today we hear news stories of division and hate, American history tells a different story.
The shooting in Oak Creek reminds us that the forces of prejudice are loud. They sling bigoted slurs and occasionally bring 9mm guns to places of worship. But we are not a country of Wade Michael Pages.
We are a country whose first president, George Washington, told a Jewish community leader that “The Government of the United States…gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance.”
We are a country where Jane Addams welcomed Jewish and Catholic immigrants streaming in from Eastern Europe in the 19th century as citizens, not as strangers.
We are a country where a young black preacher, Martin Luther King, Jr., learned nonviolence not only from Jesus Christ, but also from an Indian Hindu named Gandhi and from a Buddhist monk named Thich Nhat Hanh.
And we must be a country where a new generation of leaders rises up to write the next chapter in the glorious story of American pluralism, or else we will forfeit the territory to those who would shoot at our neighbors while they worship.
Already we see the forces of pluralism in action. Donation sites for families of the victims have sprung up, and supporters have updated their Facebook profiles with pictures saying “I Pledge Humanity.”
Groups in Madison, Minneapolis, and Detroit have held vigils in solidarity with those affected by the shooting, and survivors of the recent shooting in Aurora, Colo., have reached out to Sikh victims via social media.
There have been periods in American history when the staunch opponents of pluralism have won the battle. But they didn’t win the war, because irrepressible people of good faith refused to surrender their nation to such fear and hatred.
Let us remember that we cannot cede this moment in our history to the forces of intolerance. And may we draw inspiration from our Sikh neighbors as we build a world where people of all backgrounds are honored for their unique contributions to America.

Eboo Patel is founder and executive director of the Interfaith Youth Core, a Chicago-based international nonprofit that promotes interfaith cooperation. His blog, The Faith Divide, explores what drives faiths apart and what brings them together. His latest book is Sacred Ground: Pluralism, Prejudice, and the Promise of America

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Seattle's Grand Opening Day of Boating

From "Lindsay's Photographic Blog: The World As I See", a new and exciting photo blog by my stepdaughter, reprinted with her permission. 


Opening Day ? ? ? ?
That was often the response I would get when telling someone I was heading down to Montlake for the Opening Day festivities.  The Opening Day of Boating Season took place today, the first Saturday of May.  It is a long standing tradition in this city.  According to the Seattle Yacht Club, the first Opening Day took place in May of 1913.  If you are a part of the boating or rowing community in Seattle, Opening Day is a big deal.


My family has been very much a part of the recreational (and commercial) boating world.  I moved on to a boat (a 47-foot classic wood vessel named the Lady Mick) with my mom and step-father beginning my freshman year of high school with our Siberian Husky, Annie, and our cat, Emil.  Opening Day was on the calendar every year.  So many boats would come to watch the festivites (often over a 1000), that my parents would bring the boat out a couple days early to get a good spot along the shoreline leading to Foster Island.  It became a tradition- I would spend the night with a high school friend, go to school the next day, and then take a Metro bus to the Montlake neighborhood.  The fun part was always wading through the extremely muddy trail leading to Foster Island, while looking for the familiar bow of the Lady Mick.  Once I found them I had to start yelling to get their attention.  They would then hop in the dinghy (small boat) with the dog and would make their way over to the shoreline to pick me up.


I have so many fond memories of those days- dancing on the back of our friend's boat, my friend and I climbing up to the top of the Lady Mick with a radio to listen to music and watch the crew races and boat parade, and socializing with family and friends who always joined in on the party.
Unfortunately, it is has been several years since we brought the Lady Mick to watch the spectacle that is Opening Day.  My parents have since moved off the boat and she has been moved from Lake Union to the Kitsap Penninsula.
While nothing beats hanging out on a boat for Opening Day, this year I thought I would head down to Montlake and watch the festivites from the shore.  It was a fun day....and the weather even decided to cooperate.




You can see more pictures of Opening Day at her blog, The World As I See It.


Lindsay is a nurse in the hematology/oncology unit of Seattle Children's Hospital. You can follow her blog, listed to the left of this post. And speaking of Children's, don't miss their amazing video which has just gone viral, "Stronger."