Playing Fair and Being Kind

Don’t fret. I’ll tie them all together eventually.

This morning I wanted to get into my usual routine of booting up the laptop, turning on the burner under the kettle, and using my submarine style bathroom. The bathroom is called a “head” in the Navy. So I go to the head means just that. “I’ll be in the head.” “I’m going to the head.” “Where’s the head?” Over time I’ve noticed everyone uses that term. At least no one looks askance if I ask “Where’s the head?” The head at The Castle is of a cozy dimension we’ll say. I can stand in front of the shower and without moving my feet reach left for the outer wall, reach right for the opposite wall and if I could turn one way or the other I could only reach one direction and touch the door. It’s cozy.

While the water is heating for coffee I sit in recliner #2; Sam’s original recliner when he was in middle school. My recliner, #1, has shit the bed. Half the springs in the seat are gone and to sit in it gives my back a torturous treatment. I’ve had to do stretches for a week after I stopped using it. Recliner #1 has been relegated an ignominious place in the one room of The Castle. I use it to stack blankets needing storing. It should stay buried until January. Maybe longer. Quien sabe?

Sitting in recliner #2. By now I have made the coffee and sipping from a large cup that holds two and a half cups of Italian roast, Alonzo’s Double Dark. Yum. I began to jones for biscuits. I allowed the desire to steep while I downed the coffee and surfed emails, news links, and Facebook. I was multitasking the surfing and the coffee sipping and the jonesing thing. The biscuits kept coming to the front of the line so I got up and cleaned the kitchen, took a shower, and pulled all the ingredients out for buttermilk biscuits. During this string of actions I began to remember my days living south of the Mason-Dixon Line. That is where I learned so much about biscuits and gravy and sausage etc.

Tidewater Virginia is nearly into North Carolina. The Great Dismal Swamp lies on both sides of the state line. A great place to stay out of in my humble opinion. I spent about six years in the Navy in Norfolk and Newport News. I’ve done a bit of driving through the red clay country of North Carolina. Got my share of speeding tickets from speed traps there. And I’ve spent about five years in Charleston, South Carolina which is within goober spitting distance of Georgia. Charleston is where I learned to eat boiled peanuts. They are some good! I also learned why people move so slow there in the summer time.

I won’t go into detail about making the biscuits. “Whew!”, you say. But I will let you know that I decided to make myself a Georgia Steak Sandwich as I learned about in Charleston. Here is where I need to speak a bit about arrogance. In my travels and living in various locales up and down the eastern seaboard I have become aware of the pecking order related to how each state sees themselves in relation to other states which they border. Beginning in New York State there you have the most arrogant people on earth. (Arrogance = Inflated sense of self importance.) Every state north or south of New York is inferior, at everything. Doesn’t matter. From north or south of New York each bordering state thinks the same of their neighbor to the north or south. For example Massachusetts is superior to Maine or in the other direction Virginia is superior to South Carolina. In South Carolina the folks there are merciless in their ridicule of the people of Georgia.

While I was stationed in Charleston at the ship yard I rubbed elbows with many of the local guys. I also was privileged to be neighbors with many people who had moved up from Georgia. I didn’t see much difference between them. Still there was that relationship between the folks of these two states. The South Carolinians exhibited more arrogance in the presence of the Georgians.

One day at lunch in the ship yard one of my civilian co-workers asked me if I wanted to go get a Georgia Steak Sandwich. I said sure. I found out he meant to get a hot biscuit with a sausage patty from the lunch truck at the head of the pier. I found the comment amusing, however denigrating. But that is when the idea of the arrogance of living in South Carolina surfaced. Many times after that I caught on to the subtleties of that relationship.

This morning I made hot biscuits and I fried up a vegan sausage link and made what I consider a couple of Georgia Steak Sandwiches. The whole concept of what I’ve been discussing so far was rattling around in my head and I explored other arrogance issues as well.

Another place I’ve experienced first hand this natural arrogance is in boat building. Every boat builder north of your location is worse and every boat builder south of your location is better. Except for Maine. Of course we have the best boat builders in the whole U.S. of A. There are pockets of boat builders here and there who have impressed me with their skills and their designs. Outside of Maine there are builders around Newport, Rhode Island. The Crosby Catboats in Osterville, Massachusetts. North of Boston in Ipswich and Marblehead. Graves Boatyard is there. That is where John Gardner began working with boats and wrote so many books to capture forever the lines and construction techniques. Gardner was a math teacher who didn’t become involved with boats until his late forties. He traveled all over to find old classic boats lying in yards or under porches or stuffed up into rafters and he carefully measured the halfbreadths and hights above the keel of all the shapes and published tables of offsets.

I’ve visited the boat yards along the shore of the Chesapeake Bay. Joe Cutts of Cutts and Case. They were partners in designing and building unique boats on the Eastern Shore of Maryland in Oxford. St. Michaels is close by. There are builders along the banks of North Carolina in Beaufort. The North Carolina Maritime Museum is located in Beaufort (pronounced Bo-fert). In South Carolina you pronounce it Byew-fert.

On the west coast I found the best builders are located from Port Angeles on the Olympic Peninsula along the Strait of Juan de Fuca into Puget Sound down into Tacoma. Seattle, Washington is home to many. So many wonderful boat builders in this country. However, one must keep in mind the very best boat builders are located in Maine. Said with just a touch of arrogance. I count fifty two major boat builders in Maine. There are many more backyard boat builders. I was one of those back yard boat builders. I had a small shop, one man. Me. I shared the shop with two other builders who needed space. Both are women by the way. We got along great and helped each other on occasion.

I worked as general manager of a major boat yard. We built a beautiful lobster boat style yacht. Southport Island Marine on Southport Island. Below is their signature boat. A thirty foot pleasure boat made of fiberglass. Enough wood trim and furniture to make it softer to the eye and touch. Teak and mahogany.

So there you have it. I hope I was able to tie it all together for you. This has been a good day. I’ve been clearing raspberry bushes from The Castle Royal Garden. It is tiring work but The Royal Garden is looking better for it. Peace out,

G. M. Goodwin 11 August 2017