I like weather. Understand that when a sailor says the word, weather, he is talking about bad weather. You know, storms and such. There isn’t much use in talking about a sunny day, that should be a default weather pattern. No, people who enjoy the sea must learn to accept all of Nature’s different moods. Not that we enjoy being blown around and drenched with waves, but we learn to accept whatever comes and to deal with it.

And it is stressful. But it’s real stress, not the phony kind that we find living in a bureaucratic society like this one. When Nature starts whipping up the waves and making things uncomfortable, sailors must pay attention. No one should underestimate the natural elements, they will kick your butt! However, after the storm, there is serenity. If you have paid attention to what you should have done, then you reap the rewards of a triumphant victory. You get to pick up all the stuff that used to be on the shelves in your boat. I remember a day, maybe ten years ago, when I took a friend and her dog on the sailboat for an afternoon’s cruise. It was a little rough, but not too bad. The sailing was great because you need a good breeze to move the boat and we had it. Unfortunately, the breeze picked up measurably and the waves exceeded eight feet in height. The crests were no more than fifty feet apart. It became very uncomfortable. We were a couple miles from shore so there was no way I could just move away from the turmoil; I had to deal with each wave while I steered as much as possible to the shore. And it was growing dark. Fighting the waves is trouble enough when you can see them coming, but when it gets dark, you can’t anticipate when the next wave will pummel the boat and throw you off balance. I had the tiller in hand and was doing okay under the circumstances. My friend, however, had turned a very odd “green” color and she lay sprawled in the cockpit, wishing I think, for death to rescue her. The poor dog had sought refuge in the cabin below and had become so seasick that she vomited on the cabin sole. She was “green” too. The boat was pitching to and fro in a frightful manner. Everything that wasn’t lashed down was thrown about in the cabin. Even the table was torn loose and it was on the sole mixed in with the cabin contents and dog vomit. I couldn’t go below because I had to steady the boat as best I could while trying not to get seasick.

And now we come to the best advice you’ll ever get on not getting seasick. When on a moving boat (or any vehicle, for that matter) look at the horizon and never, never look away. If you do this, you will avoid the worst aspects of motion sickness. Do not look down, that’s the worst thing you can do. Remain looking at the distant horizon – no matter what – and you’ll fair well. Knowing this, I knew I had to look at the horizon and other distant objects. I did this. And then I did the next thing to allay sickness – I sang. Under the conditions mentioned you can imagine the noise and confusion of the situation. Since I couldn’t leave the tiller I had to make things as comfortable as possible. I figured this would be a good time to practice my singing. You see, one must be able to project one’s voice over any ambient noise and one must be able to concentrate on the vocal production, otherwise, in concert, you would not be heard. I began to practice show tunes and an operatic piece that one can never practice enough. I sang to the wind and waves; I sang to Neptune and Nature; I sang so I wouldn’t puke. It was good practice.

There was a man who desired to speak publicly. He knew that he had to be heard over the crowd and that there would be no sound system to amplify his voice. He went to another famous public speaker and sought his advice. The mentor told him to go to the seashore with a bag of marbles. He told his student to fill his mouth with the marbles and to speak to the sea. He had to enunciate his speech so he could be understood in spite of the fact that his mouth was filled with the marbles. The noise of the waves on the sand only made this task more difficult. The student was serious and wished to accomplish what his mentor dictated. The mentor further instructed that on each day he went to speak with the marbles in his mouth that he take one marble out, so that each day there would be one less marble to speak through. “Then,” said the mentor, “when you’ve lost all your marbles, you’ll be a good speaker!”

You are probably wondering what a stormy sea has to do with losing your marbles. Maybe only marble-less people like stormy seas? Could be. I’ve always liked the warmer weather; that’s why I moved to Florida from New York. Actually, the overall plan was to live on my boat in Tahiti. Florida was just a small first step. I still dream about living in Tahiti but I doubt that I’ll ever get there. I’ve heard that it isn’t as nice as it used to be. Forty years ago, when I first wanted to go there, the island was little touched by bureaucratic morons. There was a native culture; there were real issues, real living. Now from what I hear “civilization” has crept in to ruin the area. In the old days, you had to sail there. There was the feeling of accomplishment in just making the trip. Now you just hop on a plane, there is no feeling of accomplishment, unless you feel that buying the plane ticket is an accomplishment. The weather here in Florida is similar to the south sea islands (not exactly, but close) so I can find a palm tree and look out over the sea and pretend. So says Sam Post.