In the Good Old Summertime

In 1975, I graduated from undergrad and prepared to travel on to grad school in the fall. But first, I had to head back to Coastal Maine for another version of “Summer With The Cap’n.” During those months, my wife dutifully lent me out to her father, the Cap’n, as free labor.

Now I was supposed to be working on earning money to pay expenses when I got to Pennsylvania. But the demands of my father-in-law frequently provided a certain amount of tension, no matter how hard I might try to balance things.

To a certain extent, the objective was multi-pronged. Provide “Daddy” with a crew member for sailing, and provide him with an assistant to do the heavy work. The other goal was to make Wes ( that was me!) love Coastal Maine so much I’d never want to leave for silly old grad school.

Just to be clear, I was always happy to return to Maine for long weekends, holidays, vacations, and anytime we could get away. I could not admit it. If I did, my wife and in-laws would be elated, do a jig, and declare victory. I was very focused on getting the Ph.D, going to Spain for fieldwork, and teaching anthropology. Anything else would be a distraction. So I carefully hid my appreciation for all things coastal.

The days I worked as a casual laborer at area boatyards. I learned to scrape, paint, and varnish. I also helped more skilled workers with some boat carpentry. That was the summer that the Cap’n found out that I could carve. Through him I got my first jobs for quarterboards and carved eagles. He took a hefty commission.

As the summer progressed, things with my wife deteriorated. The campaign to derail grad school, keep me in Maine, and lend/lease me to her father finally resulted in a series of violent arguments. Thunder rolled over the cove frequently.

The final blow fell in a curious way. My wife had met me when I was performing at a coffeehouse in Portland. After getting hooked up with her I stopped performing and became steadier and conventional in my ways. But old things have a way of swinging back around.

Someone I know over in the Harbor knew that I had some experience as a performer, and I was asked to sit in for someone who’d fallen ill. It was just a bar gig, only for one night, so I said yes. When my wife found out, it was like I had already cheated on her with a floozy from the bar. She knew things were rocky, and I guess she suspected that I was backsliding to the old Wes she had first met years before.

The gig was good. I felt like I was ready to lock and load on the material. I was a hit, and the bar owner hinted that he’d like to see me back. My wife was fuming.

That night, after the gig, the brown smelly stuff hit the you know what. I told her that I’d had it, and that we would separate. In the fall, we’d decide what we would do. But, for now, I was going to pack.

About a week later, I hit the road, pack, guitar, and my cat ( The Grey Menace – Clancy J. Bumps). It had been some years since I’d been on the road, but having the cat proved to be an asset. I had no problems getting rides – creeps don’t travel with their kitties. The trip was a piece of cake, and I made it to New Jersey in time for a late dinner at a friend’s.

So, it’s interesting how things swing about years later. I never made it to Spain, never finished the Ph.D, but wound up working as an applied anthropologist for the Department of the Interior. That love of things maritime crept out for playtime whenever I would allow it. The Folklife Center I ran built a boat, and brought in folks in the maritime trades often. I just couldn’t help myself.

Then Clinton and Gore Reinvented Government—groan, and I was out of a job. One day, I was a GS-12/7, and in a few weeks, I was unemployed. Then the call came from a friend who was a boatbuilder—”Come on down to the yard, and get to work.”

The next day, I was scraping, painting, and doing varnish just as I had all those years before. Not long after that, I was carving quarterboards, transom banners, and eagles. I eventually developed a specialty of carving portraits of people’s boats.

Maybe you can’t have your cake and eat it all the time. But once in a while it does work out.

Written forhttps://wtfaioa.wordpress.com/2025/04/27/pick-3-2-inspiration-list-and-housekeeping/

I’ve used nine of the available words! Fun.