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.
Showing posts with label St. Thomas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label St. Thomas. Show all posts
Friday, May 29, 2009
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.
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