The subtle shortening of daylight, paired with the progressive silencing of nighttime cicadas, marks the end of another summer that Mark remains waiting. Waiting to have another difficult conversation, waiting to break further way, waiting for a boat slip.
His name is printed amid a vast sea of names on the 30-plus-year waiting list for a docking slip at Seal Bay Harbor in Hampton, VA. His name was added to the waiting list five years ago by his father, and he is glad that he is nowhere near the top of the list.
Mark’s complicated relationship with boats began more than a decade ago at a family reunion in Wisconsin. 10-year-old Mark watched in awe as his dad’s cousin pulled into the lake house driving an old battered pick-up truck with a 24-foot Stingray in tow. He had been in kayaks and canoes, but never a real boat with a motor. After spending over an hour unloading the boat into Lake Beulah, it was time to climb aboard. Mark immediately felt uneasy. The unsteady footing, wobbly turns, and quickly changing speeds made Mark wish the boat ride would end as soon as it started. His dad, however, was the happiest Mark had seen him in years. His dad was driving the boat, showing off by water skiing on one ski (an old talent from his childhood Mark never knew he had), and hanging over the edge of the boat while his cousin was driving it, all with an ear-to-ear smile on his face. It was tough seeing his dad have so much fun while Mark was so uncomfortable.
The day they returned from the family reunion, Mark’s dad began saving for a boat of his own. He had grown up on the water, and was thirsty for more. Soon he bought a 26 foot SeaRay of his own. It was docked at the end of a brackish river in Virginia. It took 45 minutes to get from the docking slip to the open ocean. Of course, Mark’s dad really wanted to be able to dock his boat at Seal Bay Harbor, but the waiting list was so long that he needed to find another harbor for the short term. It was during the search for a second choice harbor that Mark’s dad decided to put Mark’s name, as well as his older brother’s, on the waiting list. This way, by the time Mark and his brother were in their 50’s with boats of their own, they would be able to put a boat in the famous Seal Bay Harbor. For a while, Mark did not know his name was on the list. However, last year Mark found out that his dad had paid a $50 annual fee to keep his name on the list for the past 8 years. His jaw nearly hit the floor when he thought about all the better uses he could have found for the $400 spent to keep him on a list he had no interest in being a part of.
When the family boat was first purchased, Mark tried hard to learn to love it. He spent weekends traveling to the coast with his dad to go fishing, or water skiing, or even just take the boat out for a cruise. However, he eventually realized he would never share his dad’s passion for boating, so found an increasing number of excuses to avoid joining the family. Eventually, Mark was avoiding the boat with the exception of an obligatory annual Sunday boating trip. During the most recent trip, Mark’s dad pounced, in his usual way, on every opportunity to dole out boating lessons. Mark had an especially bad attitude on this trip, as it was the first time on the boat since he had learned about the waiting list. While clenching to the side of the boat, wishing the day would end, Mark could feel himself approaching a boiling point. Right as his dad was in the middle of a particularly boring lesson, Mark snapped, “Dad! I don’t care!” he spat out. Immediately, his father’s face dropped. Mark knew he had hurt him quite a bit with these four simple words.
His dad continued the driving the boat and a moment of scathing silence hung in the air. “Well,” his dad said meekly, “nevermind then.” The boat motored on.
After a few long moments, Mark began to soften. He thought about what his dad had been saying to him since they got on the boat. He began to see the boating lessons in a new light. Preparing for worst case scenarios, constantly surveying surroundings and adjusting routes, completing 100% of a task without cutting corners; these principles extended far beyond boating.As Mark sat on the boat, he began to understand his history with his father with a bit more clarity.
. . .
Growing up, Mark and his dad spent a lot of time together. Mark’s freshman year of high school, however, he told his dad he was quitting baseball and Boy Scouts. His dad had been a baseball coach and a Scout Master. Though his dad had certainly wished Mark would continue with both of these shared passions, he had supported Mark’s decision to move on from both of them. Mark thought back on that difficult conversation he had with his dad that day, and understood why it had been so hard. As a baseball coach and a Scout Master, his dad had been able to teach him life lessons in disguise.
After his freshman year of college, Mark dropped out of the same pre-med program his dad had graduated from to join a risky new business he was passionate about. His dad had been his biology tutor during high school. The only time he called his dad while at college was to ask for help with biology labs. As a biology tutor, baseball coach, and Scout Master, Mark’s dad did all he could to teach him everything he knew. As an arrogant son, Mark told him over and over that he knew better. That conversation had been even harder. Mark thought he would kill his dad by telling him he was dropping out of medical school and was not going to be a doctor. His dad was heartbroken; but again, he supported his son’s decision.
. . .
So Mark sat on the boat with a decision to make. He could use this as an opportunity to embark upon another difficult decision. He could tell his dad he hates boats. Always has. That he plans to get off this boat after they struggle to tie it up to the dock, and never set foot on another boat again. He can mention that his dad should see this as a relief, because now he can stop paying the annual fee to keep him on the Seal Bay Harbor waitlist. Furthermore, when he gets too old to use the boat anymore, he can give it to Mark’s older brother, rather than finding a way for them to share it. Ultimately, it would be easier for Mark’s dad if he knew that Mark could hardly stand the thought of spending any more time on a boat.
Or he could put that conversation off for another summer, and allow his name to drift a little closer to the top of the list. He could listen to the boating lessons with a forced smile, allowing his dad to teach him whatever lessons he had left in the tank. After all, what better way could Mark think to spend $50 a year than on his dad’s happiness?
For now, Mark clutched onto the side of the boat, white-knuckled, and refused to let go.