Home > Today's Christian
> 2001
> September/October
The Not-So-Old Man and the Sea
If this didn't kill me, it would keep me young
by Jamie Winship
 1 of 2
The other day, it occurred to me that I look middle aged. Of course, I know how old I am, but I've always thought of myself as being 40 like Mel Gibson is 40. (Incredibly, I can do this even though I'm bald and my eyes are the color of oppossum fur.) Then a waitress in a restaurant asked my wife if her father was paying the bill. She meant me.
At that moment, I knew I had to take my family boating. According to a recent survey (one I conducted with two middle-aged guys at the office), the surest method for an aging dad to reassure his family that he's still the virile stud they once believed him to be is to do something they fear more than life without cable television. For my family, it's boating.
My wife and three sons have two memories of family boating. One is an overturned canoe at a family campground called "Iwishihadntgone." The other is of a swan-shaped paddleboat at a state fair in a Titanic-like collision with an aluminum rental shed. In both cases, I was at the helm.
I decided that the best way for me to prove my youthfulness was to find a boating adventure in which the true spirit of the pioneer prevailed. In my mind, that meant a hand-hewn boat piloted by an adventurous captain in the open sea. In other words, I was looking for the cheapest day trip I could find.
During dinner, I announced my plans for our seafaring excursion. My son suggested something safer, like bungee jumping, but I put down the mutiny with a speech about the glories of the wind in your face and the sea at your back. I also whistled the Old Spice song.
Me and my maties
The next morning, we drove to the beach and set out in search of a sturdy vessel and seaworthy crew. I ended up with a guy named Nanu, his grandfather and their boat, dubiously named Chaos. The boat was about the size of a canoe from camp Iwishihadntgone.
As we boarded the tiny craft, my wife gave me one of those wife looks that says, "There isn't enough jewelry in the world to pay me to climb onto this deathtrap." When we are all safely aboard and scrunched uncomfortably together on wooden benches, I looked at Nanu and shouted, "Ahoy, mates!" My family groaned in unison and the adventure commenced.
Grandpa Nanu was an elderly fellow I guessed to be just under 150 years old. I figured he must be a risk taker like myself because whenever the outboard motor stalled (which was often), he would disconnect the fuel line and suck the gas through the line until it was flowing properly. He did this without extinguishing the lit cigarette in his mouth.
Thanks to Grandpa Nanu's mechanical skills and lung capacity, we soon found ourselves skimming lightly across crystalline waves with only a minimal amount of nausea. I reminded my family that it was due to my youthful vigor that they were experiencing such pleasure. I was only 15 minutes into my speech when we ran headlong into a storm.
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