I digress for a moment. "Captain" in the previous blog stirred another memory. In order to transport the Wanderlust, he needed a captain's license. We both took the course, after all we both needed to be fully aware of all the rules and regulations regarding the sea.
It was a very intense learning experience. As I recall there were a few other females who like me were the wives of the prospective captains. I, however, was actually taking the course. There was a lot of reading and tests leading up to the certification. We plotted courses and used a sextant and learned navigation. At some point, I was having a conversation with the instructor about what our plans were. Imagine my surprise and consternation to find out that although women could take the course, they could not be licensed. I would get some kind of certificate that said I took the course but that was all. Undaunted, I completed the course. Today one would shout from the rooftops that this was discrimination. At that point in time it was just the way things were done.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
My resume (5)
So, after that sojurn to Puerto Rico, which still needs to find it's proper time frame, we are back in St. Thomas. Back on the radio at WAH.
Some people really had a hard time with the radio communications and just couldn't master the press and release. They would cut people off or talk over them and it took a great deal of patience to get them to properly use the radio. One gentleman in particular was really having difficulty. He was often conducting business so it was very frustrating for him. I spent a lot of time making sure that everything was understood on both sides of the conversations. One day, after a particularly trying call, a man came in and delivered chocolates and flowers. He was one of the crew from the boat that belonged to the radio challenged owner. He thanked me profusely and said that his boss would really like to meet me. So it was that we found ourselves on an 83' yacht, waving to the Mellons on their yacht and coming to terms with the fact that my husband was now the captain and I was part of the crew. The yacht was out of Maine and Palm Beach and the owner was Sprague Coal and Oil and Sprague Steamship Lines and who knows how many other businesses. And so it was, job number five.
Some people really had a hard time with the radio communications and just couldn't master the press and release. They would cut people off or talk over them and it took a great deal of patience to get them to properly use the radio. One gentleman in particular was really having difficulty. He was often conducting business so it was very frustrating for him. I spent a lot of time making sure that everything was understood on both sides of the conversations. One day, after a particularly trying call, a man came in and delivered chocolates and flowers. He was one of the crew from the boat that belonged to the radio challenged owner. He thanked me profusely and said that his boss would really like to meet me. So it was that we found ourselves on an 83' yacht, waving to the Mellons on their yacht and coming to terms with the fact that my husband was now the captain and I was part of the crew. The yacht was out of Maine and Palm Beach and the owner was Sprague Coal and Oil and Sprague Steamship Lines and who knows how many other businesses. And so it was, job number five.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
My resume (4)
One of those memory lapses again. At some point we were in Puerto Rico. We stayed with a friend of his who was in charge of building low income housing in San Juan. We lived there for awhile in Guynabo. They had two lovely girls and in fact his wife was a "hand model". One day she had to work late and called to ask me to cook rice for the children. I had seen her do it many times. She had a big black cast iron pot that she cooked it in. "Fill the pot with water , dump in a few handfuls of rice and cook it till it's done".
The girls were bilingual. If children took their classes in Spanish, then they had to take English as a second language and visa versa. Complete sentences from them often intermixed both languages. So, I served the rice and the oldest asked me, "what's a word that's worse than awful?". We all laughed but to this day I still use that phrase even though I am probably the only one that sees the real humor in it.
Needless to say, my fourth job was not as a cook. It was, in fact, as a movie extra. The model and I dressed up every day and played cards in a casino. The movie was Che! and starred Omar Sharif and Jack Palance. We went to several cast parties. I can assure you that Omar Sharif was incredibly handsome, even more so in person than on the big screen. I will always remember those gorgeous eyes.
The girls were bilingual. If children took their classes in Spanish, then they had to take English as a second language and visa versa. Complete sentences from them often intermixed both languages. So, I served the rice and the oldest asked me, "what's a word that's worse than awful?". We all laughed but to this day I still use that phrase even though I am probably the only one that sees the real humor in it.
Needless to say, my fourth job was not as a cook. It was, in fact, as a movie extra. The model and I dressed up every day and played cards in a casino. The movie was Che! and starred Omar Sharif and Jack Palance. We went to several cast parties. I can assure you that Omar Sharif was incredibly handsome, even more so in person than on the big screen. I will always remember those gorgeous eyes.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
My resume (3)
At some point, we transported the boat up the inland waterway for the summer. It started out scary as I got very sick and we had to stop in Puerto Rico. At the hospital, the doctor was very nice but spoke with a very thick accent. I kept trying to understand what this medication was that he was prescribing. Finally, the words took hold that he was saying "tincture of time". Since I was a cook it was translating as thyme which made no sense at all. With that established, we were back on our way.
There is probably a whole story that revolves around transporting a boat which I guess I will save for another time. Suffice to say, there appears to be a memory lapse as to what transpired between arriving in New England and finding myself back in St. Thomas, living at Yacht Haven on this dinky little boat. It was hardly big enough for two people and had two bunks, a head and a two burner cooktop. I remember that I had hand sewn curtains for it and for some reason also remember that we ate a lot of Dinty Moore beef stew.
My husband took on work doing boat repair and fiberglass. We made a lot of friends with all the boat people. We sailed or motored around the islands, swam in secluded coves and lived a life that many people would only dream of.
Needless to say, at some point I guess I sort of got bored. What kind of work could I do? One thing led to another and there I was, the voice of "Whiskey Alpha Hotel". No, this had nothing to do with renting rooms or making beds. Those were the call letters of the land and marine radio operator. In those days there was no phone service on the island. I connected people to the States , made dinner reservations for people on boats, gave out the weather reports and countless other conversations. Every morning I had to sign on and read the FCC statements, then I spent the day monitoring land and sea communications. I do remember that we had a huge rainstorm that went on for days. There were no gutters for the streets and they soon became flooded. Dinghys tied behind their respective boats were under water. The airways were pretty quiet as no one was going out on the water. Suddenly a transmission..."hello earth, hello earth, this is God, this is God, build an ark, build an ark." Here I was in this little room with no one else around. No other sounds came over. I questioned if I had even heard it or it was a figment of my imagination. Later that day, I hesitantly told my story and was assured that I was not the only one who heard it. No one ever did own up to doing it though, so who is to say where it came from! This was job number three.
There is probably a whole story that revolves around transporting a boat which I guess I will save for another time. Suffice to say, there appears to be a memory lapse as to what transpired between arriving in New England and finding myself back in St. Thomas, living at Yacht Haven on this dinky little boat. It was hardly big enough for two people and had two bunks, a head and a two burner cooktop. I remember that I had hand sewn curtains for it and for some reason also remember that we ate a lot of Dinty Moore beef stew.
My husband took on work doing boat repair and fiberglass. We made a lot of friends with all the boat people. We sailed or motored around the islands, swam in secluded coves and lived a life that many people would only dream of.
Needless to say, at some point I guess I sort of got bored. What kind of work could I do? One thing led to another and there I was, the voice of "Whiskey Alpha Hotel". No, this had nothing to do with renting rooms or making beds. Those were the call letters of the land and marine radio operator. In those days there was no phone service on the island. I connected people to the States , made dinner reservations for people on boats, gave out the weather reports and countless other conversations. Every morning I had to sign on and read the FCC statements, then I spent the day monitoring land and sea communications. I do remember that we had a huge rainstorm that went on for days. There were no gutters for the streets and they soon became flooded. Dinghys tied behind their respective boats were under water. The airways were pretty quiet as no one was going out on the water. Suddenly a transmission..."hello earth, hello earth, this is God, this is God, build an ark, build an ark." Here I was in this little room with no one else around. No other sounds came over. I questioned if I had even heard it or it was a figment of my imagination. Later that day, I hesitantly told my story and was assured that I was not the only one who heard it. No one ever did own up to doing it though, so who is to say where it came from! This was job number three.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
My resume (2)
How I got my second job.
We used to go skiing almost every winter weekend far up in Maine. Somehow or other we met these very wealthy people who spent the winter there; the brother of the author John dos Passos, one of the Gimbel brothers and his wife ("the Macy's speak only to the Gimbel's and the Gimbel's speak only to God" or so they used to say) , and another couple whose names escape me. There were great parties and wonderful food, incredibly fast riding in the Ferrari and incredible fun skidooing around the countryside.
Winter was coming to an end and the next thing you know there was talk of sailing in the islands. If he bought a boat, would we sail it for him? They would rent a house on St. Thomas and we would live there with them. All we had to do was be at their beck and call to take them out sailing. And so began the journey of the "Wanderlust", a 41' yawl with my husband as the captain and me as first mate and the couple whose names I have yet to remember. For awhile it was like a fairy tale in an island paradise, for awhile it was my job.
We used to go skiing almost every winter weekend far up in Maine. Somehow or other we met these very wealthy people who spent the winter there; the brother of the author John dos Passos, one of the Gimbel brothers and his wife ("the Macy's speak only to the Gimbel's and the Gimbel's speak only to God" or so they used to say) , and another couple whose names escape me. There were great parties and wonderful food, incredibly fast riding in the Ferrari and incredible fun skidooing around the countryside.
Winter was coming to an end and the next thing you know there was talk of sailing in the islands. If he bought a boat, would we sail it for him? They would rent a house on St. Thomas and we would live there with them. All we had to do was be at their beck and call to take them out sailing. And so began the journey of the "Wanderlust", a 41' yawl with my husband as the captain and me as first mate and the couple whose names I have yet to remember. For awhile it was like a fairy tale in an island paradise, for awhile it was my job.
My resume
So, let's see your resume. Well, my first job was with the phone company. A customer service representative. It paid $65 a week. I had to show my check to my father because he didn't believe I was making that much money. I worked a lot on collections, which I enjoyed, investigating phone logs to trace errant college students. Of course then there was the one that led to the father of a student with a bill of around $250. A lot of money at that time. Almost my salary for a month. He wanted to know how I got the number and I flippantly replied that this was the phone company after all. I was relaying the story to my father and he quietly informed me that the aformentioned father was one of the heads of the Mafia. My father always was a good storyteller and I was under the false impression that he was being funny and just didn't want me to get too carried away with this job. Later, when the father's picture was in the paper, I conjured up all these scenarios of how the Mafia was going to get rid of me for good. Time went by, and obviously no one came to get me in the dead of night. So much for my first job!
Monday, May 25, 2009
How do I?
The current generation doesn't know life without blogs and facebook and twitter and...
Consider though, those of us who grew up without all that. How I wish that we had that technology. Writing in journals was our option. I never could get myself to do that. Someone gave me one and I still have it and it is still blank. So many times I said I should write a book. Now I've reached the point that I don't know how much I can remember. They told you to write on the back of photographs so that you would know who the people were and you thought that was silly. How could you ever forget? But you do. It's not alzheimers, it's just how much information you have loaded into that brain and stuff gets pushed way to the back and it gets harder and harder to find it. I'm on a mission to find it. Forced retirement has left me with a huge feeling of uselessness....no longer are there all these people vying for my attention and waiting with baited breath for my assistance. There is an immense need for me to be assured that I have accomplished many things in my life and I can still make a worthwhile contribution. How do I ?
Consider though, those of us who grew up without all that. How I wish that we had that technology. Writing in journals was our option. I never could get myself to do that. Someone gave me one and I still have it and it is still blank. So many times I said I should write a book. Now I've reached the point that I don't know how much I can remember. They told you to write on the back of photographs so that you would know who the people were and you thought that was silly. How could you ever forget? But you do. It's not alzheimers, it's just how much information you have loaded into that brain and stuff gets pushed way to the back and it gets harder and harder to find it. I'm on a mission to find it. Forced retirement has left me with a huge feeling of uselessness....no longer are there all these people vying for my attention and waiting with baited breath for my assistance. There is an immense need for me to be assured that I have accomplished many things in my life and I can still make a worthwhile contribution. How do I ?
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