Catapult Fodder

1976

This edition is brought to you by a memory I had on the way to work. It’s a story I do not remember a lot about, but have heard repeated throughout my adult life. I will start with the few fleeting memories I do have of the event, and we will go into the story as I have heard it. I remember the day being bright and warm, we as a family had gone for a sail on the Monterey Bay. My father had bought a boat and it was his pride and joy. It was his time away from his job, his hobby and passion. I didn’t understand this then, but I have come to realize this since, like me and my passion of writing. I remember the sun’s rays beating down on my skin. I remember the portions of the white fiberglass seat that were not covered by blankets or human were warm to almost too hot to touch. I remember the falling feeling coming as an unexpected scare. I remember looking up at my father trying to right the boat and seeing him with the sum behind him making him look illuminated like a picture of Christ. I remember thinking how cold everything was getting. I remember the surfer that I fought with because I was warned of the dangers of strangers, when all he was trying to do was aid my family in their time of need. I remember not being able to locate my mother while this fight was going on. I remember my father yelling at me to not fight with the unknown surfer. I remember that once I got wet I was as cold as I have been ever in my short life. I also remember moments of the car ride home being upset because my favorite shoe (Probably my only shoe) had been lost in the incident. I remember it took both my Mother and Father fighting me to get my wet and cold clothes off of me to get me into a bath, and that is pretty much all I remember of the event.

Now the story as it is told is not too adventurous, but one that I have the above snippets of burned in my brain now almost thirty five years later. We had gone sailing and the day was beautiful. I cannot begin to describe the beauty of being on Monterey Bay; it is something that must be experienced to be understood. I have been in storms on the bay and still fell perfectly relaxed. As the afternoon was waning my father was bringing us back into the harbor at Santa Cruz, and Pitch-poled the boat, which is different than Capsizing. Capsizing from my knowledge of sail is less violent that Pitch-Polling, Capsizing is merely the boat rolling over, and Pitch-polling is flipping end over end. It turns the things on the back of the boat (My mother and I) into fodder for catapulting. My mother cleared the boat completely and landed in the water. I landed in the sail which was lying against the water. I am not sure where my older brother ended up; even to this day… somehow he still managed to come home with us.

I didn’t get wet until the surfer and I fought, and it was me trying to defend myself from this stranger that had not right to put his hands on me. My father said that is was alright that I could get on the surfboard and make it to dry land. I was taken to a jetty that protected the harbor and we walked back to the car. Somewhere along the way, while flying through the air, or fighting with the surfer, or making it to dry land, I lost one of my shoes which made the walk back to the car that much more of a trial.

My father a got the boat righted and returned it to its birth, and met us at the car. He drove us home, and it was a quiet ride indeed. My mother was so angry she never went on a boat again. I was angry about my shoe getting lost and my brother said very little as well. We got home and my mother drew a hot bath for us and my brother got undressed and climbed in. I stood there arms folded over my chest and said nothing. My mother tried to undress me and I fought her tooth and nail, she called my father in and he helped get me ready for the bath. My mother asked why I was making things so difficult and I loudly proclaimed “You lost my Donald Duck shoe!”

My mother and father both began laughing at this and my mother assured me that we would get me a new pair of shoes the following day. We bathed and got ready for bed, but mom let us stay up and watch television a bit first to ensure we were tired.

While we watched TV the phone rang and my mother answered. My grandmother was on the phone saying that her and grandpa were down in our area but had stopped by a restaurant for lunch at the harbor and the reason they didn’t have time to drop in and see us was that they we wrapping lunch up some idiot pitch-poled their boat in the harbor and they ordered a second set of cocktails and watched the commotion. My mother informed them that the idiot that pitch-poled the boat in the harbor was their son and he had his whole family on board the boat, but we were alright, and thank for their concern (Now my grandmother and mother were best friends even then so this was said sarcastically) And we were glad to be an afternoon’s entertainment for their second round of cocktails.

At this point my grandmother grew concerned and offered to have my grandfather drive her back to our area from Concord, which is quite a drive, roughly two to three hours given the congestion of the area. My mother declined. The next day though if I remember correctly they did come down and make sure we were all alright. I am not sure why the images that are stuck in my head got burned in like they did. I am not afraid to sail, in fact I quite miss it. I have been out since the incident and nothing bothered me. I look forward to returning and going out on the bay next year as well. I am not sure why my mother never sailed after that.