I HAVE HEARD IT SAID by both sexes that it’s very difficult to buy Christmas presents for men. That being the case, perhaps we men should do our bit to make this task easier, and, incidentally, thereby help the economy to get up off its knees.
One way to do this would be to make up a list of the Christmas presents we’d like to receive, and hand it out to friends, relatives, co-workers, and passers-by. I have heard this idea expressed often enough, but quite frankly it doesn’t appeal to me. I find it a little crass, a little indelicate, a little too much like begging. I would certainly be inhibited about asking for big-ticket items. And it is pre-loaded with the inherent danger that potential present-givers will reward your presumptuous requests by ignoring them completely, so that you receive nothing at all from your list. Such a deliberate kick in the teeth would be highly damaging to your self-esteem, which, I understand, can lead to destructive behavior on your part. That is not the kind of spirit Christmas is supposed to engender.
It has occurred to me, however, that a wish-list of this sort would be completely acceptable if it were presented in the form of a request for items for your boat.
You might think this a little strange at first, but it’s not really. It moves the guilt factor away from you to a third party. And people (even landlubbers) know instinctively that boats have souls. They realize that there are strong emotional ties between sailors and their boats that stop short only of kissing and hugging. Well, in most cases, anyway.
So, the point is that a present-list for your boat would be welcomed by those of your family and friends who are being driven to a frenzy by not having any idea of what might bring you joy this Christmas.
Now, you may already have been infected by the negative attitude that commonly assaults all brilliant new ideas like this. You may be saying, “But people will surely query why a boat would need a new flat-screen, Internet-ready, 72-inch, plasma TV with icemaker. Or a case of Johnny Walker Red Label whisky; or a five-year subscription to Playboy. How do you answer them?”
Well, good heavens, it’s not difficult. Use your common sense. Close your eyes slightly. Look wise and mysterious. Say: “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” Explain that the bond between a man and his boat is intimate and very private. Tell them you have this intuitive, exclusive insight into your boat’s true needs and desires. And make sure they realize that every boat knows the difference between real Johnny Walker and the cheap hooch they distill up in those scruffy hills in Arkansas.
Today’s Thought
Ever since Eve gave Adam the apple, there has been a misunderstanding between the sexes about gifts.
— Nan Robertson
The need to de-name first
Incidentally, here’s what can happen if you don’t use Vigor’s famous de-naming ceremony before you rename your boat:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VGpQej3o9eo
Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #137
How far away are your navigation lights visible? Well, with a 12-volt system and lights showing through clear glass or plastic in the most favorable weather conditions, a 24-watt bulb is visible at about three miles. A 12-watt bulb is visible at about two miles. Through red or green glass or plastic, a 24-watt bulb can be seen at a little over 1 mile. Incidentally, to increase visibility from three to four miles, you have to double the brightness.
Tailpiece
He asked her for a burning kiss;
She said in accents cruel:
“I may be called a red-hot babe
“But I’m still nobody’s fuel.”
(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, for a new Mainly about Boats column.)
Showing posts with label Christmas gifts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas gifts. Show all posts
December 23, 2010
December 19, 2010
The old Christmas dilemma
I’VE BEEN WONDERING if my wife would like a new anchor rope for Christmas. She got the old one quite dirty with mud last year when we anchored at Sucia Island. But of course nothing is straightforward about buying a Christmas present for your wife. There are always those nagging questions. Would she like traditional three-strand nylon, or would she prefer nylon double-braid? Which would be kinder on her hands? And — very important this — which would surprise and delight her more on Christmas morning?
Perhaps I could throw in a decent pair of canvas gloves, so she doesn’t add to the number of calluses she seems to be collecting, but if I do that I can only hope she reciprocates by buying something nice for the boat.
On the other hand, a really nice present for her would be a new GPS chart plotter, not one of those cheapo Chinese knock-offs, but a really deluxe Garmin color plotter with interfacing capabilities to link up with the radar and depth-sounder I think she might like for her next birthday. I can justify the cost. She is my darling and deserves nothing but the best.
I already have her stocking stuffer. It’s the cutest, top-of-the-range iridium oxide scraper, to help her get the old antifouling paint off, next time we haul. The expense was nothing. You’ve got to let your wife know how much you love her. And you want her to be cheerful in the sport she loves so much. I work hard at it, but it does give me pleasure to make her happy.
Today’s Thought
God loveth a cheerful giver.
--New Testament: II Corinthians, ix, 7
Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #135
The old superstition is that a boat with too presumptuous a name will attract bad luck. To call a boat Sea Conqueror or Wind Tamer is to tempt the Fates. The gods like boat names to be humble, or at least non-confrontational. If you inherit a boat with a name that challenges the gods, change it — but first use Vigor’s famous interdenominational de-naming ceremony.
Tailpiece
“Why do giraffes have such long necks?”
“Boy, but you ask some dumb questions. So they can eat from tall trees, of course.”
“Okay, so why do the trees have to be so tall?”
“So the giraffes won’t have to bend their necks, naturally.”
(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, for a new Mainly about Boats column.)
Perhaps I could throw in a decent pair of canvas gloves, so she doesn’t add to the number of calluses she seems to be collecting, but if I do that I can only hope she reciprocates by buying something nice for the boat.
On the other hand, a really nice present for her would be a new GPS chart plotter, not one of those cheapo Chinese knock-offs, but a really deluxe Garmin color plotter with interfacing capabilities to link up with the radar and depth-sounder I think she might like for her next birthday. I can justify the cost. She is my darling and deserves nothing but the best.
I already have her stocking stuffer. It’s the cutest, top-of-the-range iridium oxide scraper, to help her get the old antifouling paint off, next time we haul. The expense was nothing. You’ve got to let your wife know how much you love her. And you want her to be cheerful in the sport she loves so much. I work hard at it, but it does give me pleasure to make her happy.
Today’s Thought
God loveth a cheerful giver.
--New Testament: II Corinthians, ix, 7
Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #135
The old superstition is that a boat with too presumptuous a name will attract bad luck. To call a boat Sea Conqueror or Wind Tamer is to tempt the Fates. The gods like boat names to be humble, or at least non-confrontational. If you inherit a boat with a name that challenges the gods, change it — but first use Vigor’s famous interdenominational de-naming ceremony.
Tailpiece
“Why do giraffes have such long necks?”
“Boy, but you ask some dumb questions. So they can eat from tall trees, of course.”
“Okay, so why do the trees have to be so tall?”
“So the giraffes won’t have to bend their necks, naturally.”
(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, for a new Mainly about Boats column.)
December 24, 2009
A Christmas plea
TINKLE-TINKLE, TINKLE-TINKLE. The man with the kettle is reminding us to give, and give generously. Today there will be sailors all over the world who are receiving Christmas gifts from non-sailors. And it is to the non-sailors that this column is directed.
All right, listen up now you lot. What are the traditional gifts a non-sailor like you gives a sailor? I’ll tell you: a couple of battens for the mainsail. A stainless shackle or two for the bosun’s bag. A woolly watch cap for cold weather ... let’s face it folks, I’m sorry, but this is not generous giving. The sailor in your life deserves better.
Now, heavens above, before you protest, let it not be thought that I am a purveyor of ingratitude. I believe as much as the next man that it is more blessed to give than to receive. I, too, believe it’s the thought that counts. I also believe that you should give according to your means and I am an ardent admirer of fiscal responsibility, thrift, frugality, prudence, parsimony and similar human traits that Mr. Roget reminds me of in his thoughtful Thesaurus.
On the other hand, the problem facing us today is that your average sailor does not want a silly hat or another mainsail batten to add to the pile of spares already cluttering the cockpit locker. What he really wants is a couple of gallons of anti-fouling paint at $150 a gallon. Or a 35-pound CQR anchor for $600. Or a new color GPS chartplotter for $800. Or a jib furling system for $2,000. Or a new diesel engine, Yeah, wow, a new engine. That would please him no end. Ten thousand ought to do it. Fifteen, maybe if they have to build new engine beds as well. It sounds like a lot but it’s not really, honestly it’s not, when you consider the huge amount of joy it will bring. A really huge amount of joy.
It’s not too late to correct your Christmas mistake. If you weren’t generous before, you can be generous now. Tinkle-tinkle. Do your bit to make a sailor happy retrospectively. Tinkle-tinkle. Give till it hurts. Tinkle-tinkle. I mean, really hurts. Tinkle-tinkle. On behalf of sailors everywhere, I thank you.
Today’s Thought
Money-giving is a very good criterion … of a person’s mental health. Generous people are rarely mentally ill people.
— Dr. Karl A. Menninger
Tailpiece
“What’s that you’re burying?”
“Oh, just one of my chickens.”
“Chicken be darned. That looks like my dog.”
“Yeah, right, the chicken’s inside.”
All right, listen up now you lot. What are the traditional gifts a non-sailor like you gives a sailor? I’ll tell you: a couple of battens for the mainsail. A stainless shackle or two for the bosun’s bag. A woolly watch cap for cold weather ... let’s face it folks, I’m sorry, but this is not generous giving. The sailor in your life deserves better.
Now, heavens above, before you protest, let it not be thought that I am a purveyor of ingratitude. I believe as much as the next man that it is more blessed to give than to receive. I, too, believe it’s the thought that counts. I also believe that you should give according to your means and I am an ardent admirer of fiscal responsibility, thrift, frugality, prudence, parsimony and similar human traits that Mr. Roget reminds me of in his thoughtful Thesaurus.
On the other hand, the problem facing us today is that your average sailor does not want a silly hat or another mainsail batten to add to the pile of spares already cluttering the cockpit locker. What he really wants is a couple of gallons of anti-fouling paint at $150 a gallon. Or a 35-pound CQR anchor for $600. Or a new color GPS chartplotter for $800. Or a jib furling system for $2,000. Or a new diesel engine, Yeah, wow, a new engine. That would please him no end. Ten thousand ought to do it. Fifteen, maybe if they have to build new engine beds as well. It sounds like a lot but it’s not really, honestly it’s not, when you consider the huge amount of joy it will bring. A really huge amount of joy.
It’s not too late to correct your Christmas mistake. If you weren’t generous before, you can be generous now. Tinkle-tinkle. Do your bit to make a sailor happy retrospectively. Tinkle-tinkle. Give till it hurts. Tinkle-tinkle. I mean, really hurts. Tinkle-tinkle. On behalf of sailors everywhere, I thank you.
Today’s Thought
Money-giving is a very good criterion … of a person’s mental health. Generous people are rarely mentally ill people.
— Dr. Karl A. Menninger
Tailpiece
“What’s that you’re burying?”
“Oh, just one of my chickens.”
“Chicken be darned. That looks like my dog.”
“Yeah, right, the chicken’s inside.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)