A Good Life

Marvin Stanley Plotkin passed yesterday.    He was beloved by his daughters.  He was a faithful husband.  He loved airplanes and military ceremonies and honors.  He lived a long life but also did suffer at the end from the diseases of diabetes, cancer, and the heart.   He was fortunate to die in his sleep, with his daughter in his home.  The same home that he lived in for the past six decades.

  

What is a good life?  Everyone has joys and sorrows and moments of elation.  We all try to do good for others and perform acts of kindness.  We might not be the valedictorian of the class and win science fairs, but we probably had more fun chasing butterflies and collecting stamps and coins.   A good life is one of love, and Marvin loved his wife and daughters.   He found it hard to express in his earlier years, but I most remember his words to Joan and to Aryln and to Janet,  "I love you…have a good time"

Marvin lost his dad at a young age.  He always longed to be a part of a brotherhood that a father and son relationship might engender.  I think the military was in a sense a kind of father that he did not have.   Marvin suffered from a seizure disorder from his young adult years.  I recall that he drove his new Mercury Cougar into a home.  The house's porch was destroyed but the Cougar emerged with only scratches.  Having a medical condition that conflicted with his military desires must have been difficult-- a medical condition that would excuse him from pursuing long term military honors.   A seizure disorder that might at times jumble his brain and make the world a little fuzzier.

 

My best memory of Marvin is his birthday at Gus's Mariner restaurant at Virginia Beach shortly after Joan and I met.    He loved seafood.  His joy was infectious.   He had the pure happiness of someone who is never unencumbered by guilt.    Joan's best memory is Marvin at the Deltaville's Ullmann Sails sock burning oyster festival at the beginning of the sailing season last year.   On a sunny yet chilly Spring Day,  the warm fire, the happy sailors, the promise of the new season, coalesced into slurping a perfectly roasted Oyster.  Life is good.  Life is elemental.  These moments are fleeting but preserved in our crystalline memory.

 

Marvin was a fortunate man.  He was beloved by his daughters.  He was a transformed Republican who voted for Biden and knew that Biden won this election.  I have never heard him raise his voice in anger.  He had poor hearing so practiced selective hearing to his advantage.  He had a terrible disease of lung cancer and received wonderful care at his beloved VAMC.   The treatment caused his Right Heart to fail.  He suffered.   He was supposed to move to our house on the day he died, but I think he, in a way, loved being at his home and did not want to leave.    He was at his castle.  He raised his daughters and married them off at Farmington Drive.   He was the major, the captain of his home.

 

What is a good life?   Every life is precious.  Every moment is fleeting.  What remains are faith, love, and family.  Faith in God or life force or goodwill.  Faith in oneself that we can finish the race or complete a demanding task.   Faith in the goodness of people.   Faith in love.   

 

We all love.   Love of our partners and children, grandchildren, and greatgrandchildren and brethren.  Love of community, people, and country.  Love of nature.  Love of our pets like Waverly and Cupcake and Ginny.  We all have faith and love in family.

 

Family is the bond that strengthens our place on earth.  Family is the most complex of all demands and emotions but the most elemental and strong and simple bond.   

 

Marvin Stanley Plotkin had a good life.  He had faith, love and he has family.  We will miss you Marvin.  You will be remembered in a place of honor in our hearts.

 

Ripples

Becca smiles.  She is lost in her sleep and is seeing her dead sister Ida.  She is chasing a toddler.  She has raised and adored many grandchildren.  She is contracted, both in body and in mind, suffering from Alzheimer's dementia for the past five years.  She is curled up in fetal position, emaciated.

Becca is our Bubbe, beloved grandmother to our kids, mother to my wife, lover of stray cats and dogs, and my friend and mother in law.  She lays dying in our home, not knowing who or where she is. 

I met Bubbe almost 34 years ago.  She was a blur.  A woman in constant motion.  She smiled at me and then rushed off to her kitchen.  I did not know that she had told her daughter:  "Why did you bring him here ?"  She is from Chicago but lived in the capital of the Confederacy where Monument Avenue still pays homage to Stonewall Jackson and Robert E Lee.  They are beautiful statues from a time only one hundred fifty or so years ago.  A time so brief that it would be a nanosecond in geologic time scale.  Recent sediment.

Having raised her three girls, mostly by herself, she is a fierce champion of women.  She made friends easily although she was shy and unsure of herself.  She never benefited from the affirmation from her father or her husband.  She was in a sense like Edith, brave and nice to a fault.  Her determination is palpable when she sets out to bring sustenance to the table.  She has been the main breadwinner for her family.  She was a clerk at the VCU registrar's office for over 31 years.  She retired early to take care of our first child so that Joan could continue her OB residency.  Her retirement party was attended by a crowd of her co-workers.  She was beloved at her work as she transformed a group of people into a community.

Mothers and mothers in-laws.  Strange category for men.  When my mother died in a land far away, I categorized it in a dark recess of my emotions and she still remains there, walled off, an earthen levy threatening to collapse.  Stoic, not many tears, just reticence and sadness, and regret.  I should have done more to the woman who gave her all to me.  Still, she left,  to be with her husband, thinking it would be easier on me…

My younger brother blames me for her leaving.  He imagines a Arthurian stand where we do battle with the people who are taking her away.  In fact, it is more of an Overload dystopia.   I am hovelling, and my father, the Overload, gives a command, and I meekly comply. 

Immigrants and clash of cultures and generations and different mores are a broad theme of our growing up.  We harbor kernels of these feelings.  Feelings of being an outsider.  An orange in an orchard of apples.  Reading books brought me to inclusion as I became friends with Homer Price and Danny Dunn and the childhood protagonists of novels of American life.

Bubbe and I shared a similar thread of being a part of "Stranger in Strange land."  It is expressed as a kind of reserved sadness.  We are not the first ones on the dance floor.  We laugh with a slight reservation.  It is hard for us to let our hair down.

 Bubbe passed on in our home, surrounded by her three daughters.  The hospice nurse predicted that she might die that afternoon, so Janet and Aryln came to the bedside.  She apparently took a large gasp and then was no more.

I had a date, an outing with Becca in the summer of 1987.  Joan was on call.  It was the fourth of July, and we were in Norfolk.  I had a rare weekend off but without my spouse.  Bubbe and I were an odd couple.    We decided to go to Waterside where the fireworks were brilliant.  We went more like dates rather than son and mother in law.  I remember laying a blanket on the ground.  The crowd was in an ebullient mood.  There was no 9-11 yet.  America was prosperous.  The warm air caressed our skin.

We lay on the blanket gazing at the dark sky. When the fireworks started, we were transformed into children staring at wonder.  Like a magical date, we were the only two people at Town Park.  All others receded from our focus.  We felt like two co-conspirators, a connection was forged.

I cannot remember the specifics of that day  except for the feeling that Becca and I despite  our cultural differences, we were one and the same.    She became for me, Becca, rather than my mother in law.

We buried Becca last week.  As per her wishes, she would lay in Perpetua in a pine box, at the Hebrew Cemetery.  We had to almost bury her twice as we were at the wrong plot, freshly dug from an incorrect map legend.  She would have really enjoyed the consternation.  She literally was rolling in her grave as she went twice to her resting place.

 

As I get older, I am more attuned to coincidences and magic.  Her burial was a special setting.  The June air was crisp with no humidity and the sun was brilliant on a cloud speckled day.  Her passing had brought all of the kids back home.  Miju and Gideon from San Francisco, Ben and Megan from Washington, Mark and Abbie and Teddy and Eden from Charlottesville, Reuben from Austin, and Noah from England.  She united our family even from the grave.  Ben read the Caddish.  A Merrit Malloy poem:

Love does not die, people do.  If all that is left of me is love, give me away.

I thought that I would move on.  Becca was 92 years old.  She has seen the world transform.  Yet, her life and death are ripples in our fabric of life.  Her energy and waves of love would forever change our own path.  I see her in m children, in my wife, and in me.  She has always made me smile.   Becca smiles ….

(Written one year ago.  Rebecca Plotkin, Becca, passed away one year ago.  May 29th.  It was one day after her 70th wedding anniversary.  She was with her husband and her three daughters.)

Abacos Healing

The waters of the Abacos are impossibly blue, green and agate.   The shallow sea, a lagoon between barrier islands beckoned  us for our 32nd anniversary.   We were planning to sail the waters of the BVI, warmer and more metropolitan, than the Abacos, but the daring trip down of Anton and Mike  inspired us to come to The Bahamas.

Myths of the rage sea and frigid February cold fronts abound as I read about the Abacos.  There are rocky reefs and shallow seas.  The "rage" of Whale Cay passage had defeated the cruise line industry when they tried to bring boats into the Bakers Bay of Great Guana Cay.  We had never sailed the Caribbean seas, and it was a  little daunting to come to an unknown place.  We would learn that myths are just myths and The Bahamas was the first landfall of Christopher Columbus.  So off we went to the Abacos.

Joan and I met while in Buffalo, NY  so cold weather is not a mystery.  Virginia is balmy compared to Buffalo, and the Abacos was tropical compared to Richmond.  We took the noon flight with the Super Bowl fans on Saturday and arrived at  Marsh Harbour before dinner.  It was almost too easy.

Marsh Harbour is the third largest city in The Bahamas.  So named the "flat sea," The Bahamas stretches North to Southeast in the Lucayan Archipelago.  There are over 700 islands.  Our destination was the sea of Abacos, a protected lagoon sea of crystal waters and tranquil harbors.

Our friends at Norton's are starting a charter business with Bluenose yachts. They love sailing and love Abacos.  Their trip in December on Toro Bravo was the inspiration for our trip.  Mike, Anton, and Fernando had braved the Gulf Stream and made fast tracks to Marsh Harbour.

Mike met us at the marina.  He is a joyful guy.  Ebullient and talented, he has two young children and a wonderful wife.  He and Anton had bought Norton's yacht sales last year and have continued the tradition of family owned great service and integrity in Deltaville.  He is also an explorer who had worked with Waterway Guides.  An earnest mountain biker, he has good scars after triumphant crashes.  He is a modern man.

We are borrowing SV Jules, a 44 Sun Odyssey from Newport RI from Bluenose yachts.  She is a salty vessel and well loved.  Rob and Ingrid left detailed instructions about Jules' charms and idiosyncrasies.  Sailing a different boat is sort of like falling in love.  It is a give and take, a lesson in patience, and gentleness rules. 

We provisioned at a modern grocery store, Maxwell's.   They call taxis on VHF 6.  Beer options are limited to Kaliks and Heinekens. We were warned that provisioning was expensive and it was like buying food at an airport.  We were helping the Commonwealth of The Bahamas and looked at it more like a charity mission. 

SV Jules in her slip looked forlorn and begged us to take off to sample the Abacos waters.  We went to Great Guana Cay as our first stop hoping to catch the Super Bowl at Grabbers on Sunset beach.  A  most charming gentleman, Paul, also a Chesapeake sailor, was in Marsh Harbour, and he led on his Jeanneau 479, Moon Shadow, to Fishers' Bay.

Paul is a renaissance man.   A former nurse anesthetist, a certified pilot, an avid snowboarder, and former windsurfer, he took to sailing just last year but had come to The Bahamas from Virginia Beach last Fall.  He made the trip down with good friends but has been single handling his Jeanneau 479 for the last few months.  He had traveled down to Eleuthera and was back up in the Abacos to pick up his friends.  Paul just exudes vitality and knowledge and gave us some of his confidence to venture forth into the Abacos.

We left in the afternoon and arrived in two hours at our first anchorage of Great Guana Cay.  The waters are 12 feet deep consistent across the Sea of Abacos.  The floor is sand and grass with scattered well marked small islands that are reefs.   We are using Garmin Blue charts on an iPad and SV Jules has a Raymarine chart plotter.  They seem fairly concordant.  We did not resort to the special Explorer charts that are recommended by the gurus of Bahama sailing.  The local Abacos guide is very helpful, but it is difficult to read pilot books.  How do you describe tying shoelaces?   Too much instruction is obfuscating.

Moorings and Dream Yacht Charters have Abacos bases.   However, cruisers from the US and Canada populate these waters.  We felt more akin to the cruiser community than the "fly-in" people, and silently thanked Anton and Mike and SV Jules.  The Bahamas is also a contrast of super wealthy people and the local population.  We would be the middle ground --the cruisers and "fly-in" tourists. 

The anchorage outside of Great Guana is crowded so we go to Fisher's Bay.  The bottom is mostly sand and the anchor settles nicely.  Unlike the  Chesapeake Bay, the anchor and chain come up clean.  After letting her settle for five minutes, we backed down gently in reverse and SV Jules was safely at anchor even in the Northwind.  In the "Out" islands, anchoring choices are dictated by the direction of the wind and the lee shore.   Since we wanted to watch the Super Bowl,  we compromised on an Eastern facing shore with a gentle Northwind. 

Fishers' Bay faces Sunset Beach and Grabbers, a Bahama bar and resort.   The new dinghy dock is easily accessible.  There is a combed beach, a small pool, and little cottages.  There are hens and roosters running about.  There is a crowd for the Super Bowl and very laid back service.  We had the first of frozen specials drinks and wandered through the town and over the hill to a spectacular beach facing the Atlantic.  A rugged reef and a long sandy shore stretch as far as the eyes can travel.  We were warned about the Sunday pig roast at Nipper's bar, that there would be well-lubricated vacationers spilling into the beaches, but we found happy people with families enjoying the beach and libations.  A special sign noted that the government post office was open only on Thursdays.  The conservatives would rejoice in a one-day government

We found we could see the Super Bowl on the CBS app.  Avoiding our first nighttime dinghy run,  we retired to SV Jules and watched a defensive slumber provoking battle.  The sun rises and sets, and Tom Brady comes through when it counts the most.   We were gently rocked to sleep knowing we are all "Patriots."

Joan is up for an adventure, so we take off for the Green Turtle Cay and the Atlantic Ocean passage via Whale Cay Cut.   The northern sea of Abacos has a shallow bight in the middle so we have to venture few miles out into the Atlantic and come back in around Whale Cay.  The passage is narrow and there are breakers to each side.  It is visually spectacular.  Navigation is simple and SV Jules solidly sloughs through the Northwind and outgoing tide.   The northern Whale Cay passage brings following seas and we come back to the Sea of Abacos without any sign of the "rage" seas.  We count our luck as we do not have far ocean swells powering up the narrow channel or an East wind funneling these swells.  Better be humble before Neptune's wrath…

We avoid the town of Plymouth for another trip and anchor on the Northern bluff of Green Turtle Cay.  Sailboats like to test their occupants, so SV Jules test us.   Our anchor is stubborn as the Quick anchor windlass would not release.  The breakers keep on tripping and the windlass is jammed.  After many tries, we head back to White Sound and a Plymouth marina, but we have 3G service.  Our late beloved friend, Jeff, would be downloading the manual and solving the problem himself, so we download the Quick manual PDF but it is in Swedish.  We can make out enough to know that counter clock rotation would release the windlass,  and the Quick windlass is back to function!  We go back to our mantra, "What would Jeff do…"

We turn back to the anchorage and watch the sunset after exploring some coves by dinghy.  Problems create resolve, and resolve makes for solutions.  This was Jeff Goldberg's gift to us as we are better people in solving problems.  His spirit was always in exploring and learning new skills.  His dream was to be in The Bahamas with Pamlico Breeze.  We have a drink to Jeff's memory.

I am struck by the original explorers and also Liz Clark's Swell voyage.  They have gone forth with rudimentary maps and navigation and entered atolls and islands fraught with hazards.  I am more worried where the next restaurant is on a new island.   They are fighting for life and limb entering landfalls with coral reefs, and then hunting game and fish to survive.  Their bravery is logarithmic order higher than mine.  Their risk is real where my risk is more inconvenience.  Such is modern life perhaps.   I still , however, experience their wonder.  The wonder of these seas and islands I can share with Joan and with my family and friends.

The winds are shifting to the east as we leave the Green Turtle Cay and venture back into the Sea of Abaco.  We found the northern Whale Cay more challenging on the way out with 4-foot swells, but SV Jules has come down to The Bahamas from Newport, RI and she sails close reach through the cut in Force 4 winds.  Her chines bite and she has little weather helm.  She is happy to frolic through ocean swells.  Too soon, she is back into the calm waters of the Abacos as we broad reach to Treasure Cay.

Treasure Cay is known for its beautiful 3 mile beach.  All the beaches of the Abacos are beautiful.  We wait outside for the rising tide as the channel is 6 feet MLW and SV Jules is 5.8 draft.  We are playing Paul Winter's Canyons and two dolphins circle us, enchanted by the music.  When one song ends, they head out but return when the next song plays.  They seem in love and in sync, coming up together for air.

Joan and I and more synchronized as we get to spend time together.  A tragedy of our current generation is that we do not get to spend time with people with love, but rather are at work.  The work is important but our workplace friends get the best of our time.  The millennials generation are not as into this work trap, and they seem to have more of a life balance.  I am glad that we can give them this luxury.

Treasure Cay Marina is very professional.  We see a  large yacht from Midlothian VA - Slo-Gin.  We go for a mooring ball, and Joan is able to grasp the pendant on her first try.  Of course, SV Jules' bow thruster makes it a snap.  We are given a beautiful view of the Northern sea of Abacos and the Whale Cay cut that we had just come through that morning.  A beach dinner at Coco's restaurant is charming for the patience of the waitress who saw us move to three different tables.  Outside dining turned to patio dining and then turned to inside ocean view.  The Bahamian people are kind and speech Imperial English.  They are on island time and we are gradually accommodating.

We head to Hope Town and Elbow Cay the next morning.  The wind is now more east and we are motor sailing near 7 knots.  We see a tug and barge pushing supplies to Marsh Harbour.  We are on intercept course so we tack behind him.  They are traveling with minimal clearance with lots of momentum.   Barges steaming in 12 feet of clear water is an odd sight to this Chesapeake sailor. 

The Abacos are not crowded.  We see few sails and mostly small boats.  As we near Hope Town, however, there are more boats on mooring balls than in all of the Sea of Abacos.  It seems that most of the cruisers who stay for a while hang out in Hope Town.  They have their own cruisers net on channel 68 every day at 8:15 am.    We decide not to venture into the harbor and anchor in 7 feet of water beneath the light house, south of the harbor entrance.    A cool easterly wind is blowing and the sun sets over Parrots Cay.  Postcard picture perfect scenery surrounds us as we are rocked to sleep in the gentle swell. 

Thursday is our 32nd anniversary.  We venture to Hope Town and the tall kerosene lit Elbow Reef lighthouse.    We are trying to beat a storm and I am on high throttle with the little dinghy outboard.  There is plenty of fuel. We had never put the dinghy on high power before.  The motor dies suddenly and we are drifting.   We reach for the oars, but one oar is missing a blade!  Paddling singlehanded is like a marriage with one person.  We go in circles and are being blown westward away from  SV Jules and the harbor.   We are carrying cell phones and a handheld  VHF.  It is hardly life-threatening, but it was a predicament.   The skies are darkening as a mini squall is approaching.   A wonderful couple from NC who live in Hope Town for the winter saves us with their Boston Whaler.   He expertly creates a bridle and tows us back to SV Jules.   Saved by the Carolinians, we regroup but we are still determined to go to Hope Town. 

YouTube tells me that it is probably the fuel strainer and if I keep the throttle on low, we will be successful in not stalling out.   So with one oar, and our VHF, we head back to Hope Town.  We arrive at Harbors Edge restaurant for some delicious lunch.  We are next to an international group from Taiwan and England and California.   They graciously take our anniversary picture on the dock.  We return the favor and find out that they are the progenitors of Hylas yachts  They are very cosmopolitan and I feel I am seeing the "Crazy Rich Asian" cast.   It is nice to see several Huang generations exploring new islands together.  My respect for Hylas yachts grows.

We climb the lighthouse with aching legs and survey Elbow Cay.  There is much beauty on the Atlantic beach where a church 's backyard is the ocean.  We see an intrepid kite surfer braving the waves amidst submerged rocks.   He makes it look easy as he beam reaches back and forth.  We talk to a Hinckley owner from Canada who loves Annapolis but will not return until we have a new President.   Politics even permeates The Bahamas.

Our final day of sailing takes us North to Scotland Cay and Fowl Cay.  I had planned a desolate beach stop but given our temperamental dinghy, we settle back to Great Guana and Nippers.

We are close hauled with force 3 winds and we see impossibly large homes built on small islands and hugging the intersection of beach and ocean.  We settle easily in Fishers Bay and dinghy with small throttle back to Grabbers dock.  

A  manta ray greets us as we approach.   Grabbers is very laid back and civilized.  A calm is over Sunset beach that is contradistinction to the bright pastel colors.  We are rewarded for our walk to Nippers with a "Cheeseburger from Paradise."  They are playing also Jimmy Buffett.  A nineteen dollar cheeseburger never tasted better.

The afternoon is languid as we lay on the beach and listen to the ocean waves breaking...  After a while, we are back aboard SV Jules and motor sailing to Marsh Harbour.  Low tide is 4 pm and so we avoid the well-marked government channel and hug the North shore and dodge the anchored boats.   When we arrive at Harbour View Marina, another fishing monstrosity of wealth and overabundant power, aptly named, One Too Many, is in our slip.   We are lucky that we get to stay at the fuel dock overnight.    We have a spectacular view of Marsh Harbour.  Thank you One Too Many.

Our friends from Norton Yachts, Mike and Penny, have made our trip comfortable and easy.  They are working hard to make their dreams come true and we delight in their company.  We are struck by the friendly souls and wonderful boaters at Harbour View Marina.  They are living in the moment.  They are eager to share their knowledge and enthusiasm.

Joan and I will return to The Bahamas in the future.  Perhaps we can carve out enough time to travel down on Enchantress.  A sailing week in February, a week of warmth and easy living recharges our batteries to come back to the bone of winter. 

We need a dose of adventure and new vistas.  Coming to the Abacos rather than the traditional BVI was an eye-opener.  As the color of the waters changes, our inner temperature changes as well.  The blue waters of the Atlantic ocean outside of Whale Cay, the agate azure turquoise waters of the sea of Abacos and the dark green waters of the Chesapeake stirs something deep inside of us... a primeval calling for the  basics in life.  We need new vistas to rekindle inner horizon's.  Thank you Mike and Anton for braving the frigid waters of the North Atlantic in starting this venture in the Abacos.    Heal your winter blues in the Abacos is the correct prescription.  We hope the adventure continues!