An Ode to My Big Brother

The first time I ever went sailing was with my brother on Bull Shoals Lake in North Central Arkansas. We spent an entire day out on the lake, flipping his Laser over (on purpose!), playing in the water and running from a thunderstorm that had rumbled down from Missouri. Maybe it was the combination of the wind and the water and the quiet or maybe it was because my big brother did it. But whatever the case, I loved sailing.

My brother has been sailing all his life, and I mean that literally. He was born in Gibraltar after my mother and her first husband had crossed the Atlantic in a 36' sailboat, and he spent the next two years cruising across the Atlantic and then into the Pacific. He learned how to walk on the boat, which meant that his first land-based attempt resulted in several face plants, and was infamous for throwing things overboard like hammers. Plus, there are pictures of him riding on a Galapagos turtle. I mean, what could be a cooler way to grow up?

So it was very exciting for me to have him come to stay on our boat for Thanksgiving. He taught me a ton of tricks and made me feel more confident and comfortable about our big adventure. And true to form he's still throwing things overboard ... like our winch handle.