The Elephant (Foot) In The Room

    I currently hold a bachelor's degree in Biology, and have taken three physiology courses, two anatomy courses, and one neuroscience class.  I still know next to nothing about the brain.  I think even hardened neuroscientists would say that there are many mysteries yet to solve in the field, entire fields of neurons with no known function.  Be that as it may, when I read about the learning process at the cellular level, and about the structures and pathways of the brain that promote "learning", I feel comforted in a way.  I relate the feeling to living in a home that has doors that you have just barely cracked open, and stairs to entire floors that you've never climbed.  You don't know anything about what's behind those doors or on those other floors, but you know it's your home and that you're safe. 

    My latest reading brought about some of those feelings.  Eric Jensen's book, Teaching with the Brain in Mind, uses fundamental anatomy and physiology of the nervous system to inform best teaching practices.  Like others who speak and write well about the brain, he draws the reader in wondrous facts about the brain and comforts them with easy-to-understand language while still applying technical vocabulary.  This kind of digestible science is what I want to emulate as a teacher.

    Another crucial part of making science digestible and relatable for students is allowing for humor.  Jensen is able to get in some jokes in his chapters while still maintaining respect for the content.  I think that this aspect can be easier for an educator than for an author of scientific literature.  For one thing, our audience is younger and probably wont take science as seriously as industry professionals.  But even in graduate school and beyond, adults continue to learn, and I'm a firm believer that humor bolsters learning.  When we can laugh, we become less stressed about content.  More importantly, if we are able to laugh at a joke that connects a complex subject with something we've seen before, it indicates an understanding of that subject.  

    For example, as a way of venting about prior work experience with my co-workers in that field, I became quite enamored with memes.  Combining a pun or a quick few words of a joke with a photograph that served as context for the joke, really hits the right way sometimes, and I can go through a string of relatable memes and bust multiple proverbial "guts".  One that I made for our class, after being reminded of synapses and their structure in Chapter 2, I'm quite personally fond of.  It serves to help students visualize two vastly different things, and laugh at their similarities (at least I laugh):

    One issue that came up in class with Jensen was his assessment of differences in critical thinking skills between classes of people, specifically "male" and "female".  This is something that I didn't gather from the reading because of the edition that I read.  The second edition has this chapter on critical thinking that is absent from the first edition, so knowing little else about what he talks about, I find it strange that he includes this controversial and debatable viewpoint in a more recent edition.  Why was this chapter added, and what purpose does it serve?  How did he come to believe that it was critically important to claim that boys and girls have different critical thinking capabilities, when all of the literature that I read from the first edition stuck only with humans as a species, not categorizing (much) into different classes of people. 

Still, I learned a lot from the material, and I think much of what he encourages in practice, based on the research discusses, align with my own.  I will dig into his reasoning more and try to take it all into perspective.  

I bid you happy trails, smooth sails, and myelinated axons.

The Moral of the Story

Moral (adj): of or relating to principles of right and wrong in behavior

Moral (noun): the moral significance or practical lesson

The subject of our recent class, as well as the subject of my most recent reading, pertains to morality.  Right and wrong, good and evil.  The question of who (or what) decides which thoughts, behaviors, and actions belong in which column is as old as nature itself.  Nature is actually one of the first places I look to for answers on morality.  Distilling right and wrong to their origins brings us to the simple concept of survival.  What choices/actions/behaviors are most likely to help us survive and reproduce, and thus survive themselves?  Also, questions of morality regarding humanity become much more complex when put in the context of morality regarding the environment. 

To guide us into (and challenge) our thinking about morality and how it informs education, the professors assigned us to read excerpts from a book from 1984 titled In a Different Voice; Psychological Theory and Women's Development by Carol Gilligan.  

Gilligan herself is a moral psychologist, and from the excerpts we learned about her investigation into the different moral development of boys and girls using a technique developed by another moral psychologist named Lawrence Kohlberg.  Kohlberg developed six "stages of moral development", each belonging to one of three "levels": Pre-conventional, Conventional, and Post-Conventional.  The stages that Kohlberg developed, and that Gilligan used and critiqued in her own research, are most often explained using a story (I believe also created by Kohlberg) that some of you may or may not know about: The Heinz Dilemma.  I'll try and paraphrase it.

Heinz' wife is dying.  There is a drug that will cure her, and the chemist who created the drug lives in the same town.  Heinz tries to buy the drug from the chemist, but the cost of the drug is too expensive.  Heinz gets help from family and friends but can only raise half of the price of the drug.  Heinz pleads with the chemist to sell it for a cheaper price or let him pay the money back over time.  The chemist refuses.  

Here is the crux of the story, the question posed and the answers to which are graded using Kohlberg's Six Stages.  Should Heinz steal the drug?

Perhaps you can come up with your own answers and grade yourself using the stages.  But the real issues that came up in class were not about individual moral development, but about how morality is shaped by different factors: intrinsic factors like gender and personality, and extrinsic factors like media influence, parental guidance, and social norms. 

A key argument with the reading was centered around the results of two eleven-year old children who were interviewed and both asked to answer the Heinz dilemma.  The boy's answer was immediately in favor of stealing the drug.  His reasoning centered on the judicial system; the acknowledgement that morality may not correspond to the law, that laws "can have mistakes".  The girl was adamant that the woman shouldn't die, but held firm that Heinz shouldn't have to steal it. Her reasoning was more focused on the network of relationships stemming from Heinz, his wife, and the chemist.  The moral dilemma for her was not so much a question of whether or not Heinz should commit a crime in order to save his wife's life, it was a question of why the chemist refuses to provide the means to save a life when he has it.  

It seems like they both have an intelligent grasp of morality, albeit with different means of expressing their views on right and wrong.  And yet on the Kohlberg scale, the girl was graded at a lower level of moral development.  Gilligan argued that the stages themselves were male-biased and skewed, but something that I and my classmates noticed was how the examples themselves fit the traditional male/female stereotype.  

I wonder what trends we would see now in children, almost 40 years later.  I also wonder at how different personalities between girls and boys affect how they are scored, because each boy and girl will follow slightly or widely different logic than the two examples.  

Ironically, "The Moral of the Story" is also the title of a song by the artist Ashe (the first photograph), with a beautiful and eerie piano accompaniment that I'm (slowly) learning.  Her lyrics are similarly beautiful and sad.  They inspire further questions about right and wrong in the choices we make, and really pull at your heartstrings.  They're the kind of words that, when you listen to them, you immediately want to make it a mantra.  They are words that I dream of singing to my own child.

"Some mistakes get made,

that's alright, that's okay,

In the end it's better for me, 

that's the moral of the story, babe."  

The Sweet Spot: Learning from Educational Philosophy While Constructing My Own

 I have to preface this entry with an acknowledgement that, once again, it has been an embarrassingly long time since I last updated this blog.  I’ll skip the meandering explanation of why I haven’t written and should have. It will also have to be another time (if ever) that I publicly divulge any of the many blog-worthy Addy-ventures that have occurred in the last four years.  

Instead, I will share another guilty admission and explain why I am now writing again after so long; it is a required class assignment.  I know, I know.  I can almost hear your groan of disappointment.  

Nonetheless, I will do my best to hold your attention, for I can seamlessly weave together the theme of this post with the overarching theme of this blog. It is as simple as connecting two things that cannot (or at least should not) exist without the other: adventure and education.  

The class that I am taking, the one responsible for the words you now read, is Educational Psychology.  We are learning about different instructional methods and philosophies and applying them in different settings, seeing how they fit.  Utilizing various resources, one of our overarching goals of the class is to determine, and then describe, our own personal educational philosophies. 

What I want to do here is put down my swirling thoughts down in words and try to describe how the process of determining my educational philosophy is going.  To help me, I will share some of what I’ve learned from the book In Search of Understanding: The Case For Constructivist Classrooms, by Jacqueline Grennon Brooks and Marin G. Brooks.  

As you re-read that title (made you look) you might wonder, “what does constructivist classroom mean?”, and that would be a great question!  

Here's my take on a concise definition:

 “Constructivism” is an educational philosophy that operates under the assumption that knowledge is relative. In other words, each of us constructs our own understanding of the world. 

A “constructivist classroom”, therefore, is one in which the students become the main movers and shakers of their education.   The guidance from an ideal teacher in situation is more subtle and faciliatory, while the lesson structure is more fluid, varying based on each individual student’s interpretations, interests, and needs.

One of the things I enjoyed most about this book was the connections I felt to the examples and research that the authors chose when describing instructional methods.  They often refer to math and science lessons, and one of their very first examples was about the first time a young child visits the ocean, which means a lot to me personally.  One of my very first memories is of visiting the ocean.

Determining how much I agree with the constructivist methods that I’ve been reading about, it is only natural to draw from my prior experiences in educational settings, both as a student and as the educator.  The moments that I look back on as successful were experiences that did involve methods that Constructivists encourage, but they also involved methods that run against constructivist philosophy: lectures and demonstrations that the student then mimicked or practiced.

Two examples I can draw from are my experiences as a swimming instructor and as a sailing instructor.  Within these two settings lie excellent opportunities for students to have freedom and construct their own knowledge, but can also require specific, concise, and accurate instruction.  In both settings, as in all educational settings, safety is the primary concern. When students are literally learning in deep water, the number of safety concerns go up. 

Take a first-time swimming lesson with a three-year old.  In my past lessons I wouldn’t have been able to justify the idea of giving them complete power.  First of all, most would probably either bolt right for the toys or bolt for their parents.  If they didn’t do those things and instead bolted for the water, this is a paradoxical best AND worst case scenario.  If I’m already in the water, great, I can get to them, but if I’m not, then even if that kid has the innate gift of being able to keep their head out of the water on their own, I’ve just committed negligence.

This is, of course, an extreme example.  If I knowingly allow or physically put a child in deep water, I trust myself to know that the worst possible outcome is some water up the nose. My point is that I believe ground rules to be necessary in every educational setting, and the giving of those ground rules is traditionally given as precise directions. 

What I am learning in this class, and through interpreting Brooks and Brooks, that I didn’t know as a young undergrad teaching swim lessons over the summer holiday, is that I was taking progressive and constructivist approaches to traditional lessons without knowing it.  If you had asked me then why I was using those methods, I would have just answered that I was trying to make the lesson more fun. 

Some of these instructional highlights are presented in the book, especially in Chapter two.  Brooks and Brooks stress the importance of valuing student inquiry and physical action over the study of classical textbooks, both of which I have found empowers students and fosters engagement.  Thinking back to my own fifth grade classroom, I was much more engaged in learning about the subject of geology when I was on a field trip to a cave in central Oregon than I was reading about it in a book.

  

I have also learned that giving students as much power over their learning as possible does not mean there is no guidance.  The key is determining the right amount and type of guidance.  Brooks and Brooks recommend that a constructivist educator guide their students by presenting “good problem-solving situations” (p. 36).  This means that the situation: 

1.     1. Demands that the students make a testable prediction

2.     2.  Make use of inexpensive (read: accessible) equipment

3.      3. Is complex enough to elicit multiple possible approaches at solving the problem

4.      4. Benefits from group effort

Making sense of these varied and merited solutions to educational questions reminds me of trying to hit a baseball.  You can technically hit the ball with any part of the bat, but if you make contact with the ball too close to your hands, the ball has less power and your hands get stung.  Hit the ball with the far end of the bat and the same thing happens.  My Dad (and many other coaches) told me that I had to hit the ball with the "sweet spot" on the bat. 

What I am coming to believe is that there exists a "sweet spot" regarding guidance in a class setting.  It essentially lies between saying nothing at all, and giving enough guidance to stay safe and aligned with the learning goal (teacher- or student-derived).  The key is determining the right amount and what kind of guidance.  That is what I think I will continue to grapple with as a I move forward in developing my own educational philosophy.

More advances in knowledge yet to come, but in the meantime....

Happy trails, smooth sails, sunny summers, clean masks, and cheers to enjoying the process! 

The Frustrating And The Awesome, in Glaucester Bay and Beyond

I love the ocean.

It's such a funny thing, trying to analyze just what it is I feel when I'm out on the water, but I'm far from alone in both feeling that soup of emotions as well as being unable to describe it fully in any coherent way.  I love how simply smelling the air makes my muscles relax and makes breathing come easier.  I love that taking off on fast-moving boat seems to bring a surge of electrically charged excitement, like every molecule is vibrating.  I can be standing at the railing of a whale-watching boat, peer down the side at the surging white wash as the prow cuts through the water, and become hypnotized by it. 

And I love how the creatures that live beneath the waves are still a complete mystery. 

I was fortunate enough today to 1) be a part of a NESS SEA Americorps crew that is so active, social, and close-knit that after only knowing each other for 5 days managed to plan and successfully implement a two-and-a-half hour road trip to another state to go whale watching; and 2) get to go whale watching.

The name of the company was called Cape Ann Whale Watching, by the way.  Based out of Glaucester, MA (this is pronounced "Glauster"), it's a pretty cool business.

One of the cooler aspects, at least for me, was of course the conversations with Lead Naturalist, Chris.  I had to take a bite of my pride knowing that he was younger than I am, but nevertheless he was a great dude and super knowledgeable.  Both being ocean geeks, and him vastly more knowledgeable than I, allowed for stimulating conversation.  For example,  I told him about the Sea Otter research I'd been a part of in Moss Landing, and he pulled their giant binder of whale genealogy, records and identifications (brought back good memories of working in Canada) and showed me the fluke of a whale they had named "Lutris" because of the small splotch on it's right fluke that looked exactly like a floating Sea Otter. 

He also talked about matriarchal behavior of Humpbacks, of which I had no idea and found completely fascinating.  We got to witness this behavior first-hand with one of the local matriarchs named Cajun (born in '88, represent!). As she was leading her entourage of "associates", a fourth female came into the mix, apparently trying to join the gang.  Chris helped us all notice the aggressive behavior that Cajun started displaying, from making "trumpet blows" to quicker, more erratic and aggressive movement.  Supposedly Cajun is picky with who she allows to join her crew, and  who can blame her?  The behaviors that are known to be used in feeding seem like a very complex coordinated dance, and when you realize these animals have to consume quite literally a ton of fish a day, it's "easy" to see that feeding is serious business for them.


I think what I'll remember most from my conversation with Chris wasn't any term or statistic or description of a behavior.  It had more to do with the subject in general and the way it can reflect life in general.  He told me about a talk he sat in on from one of the worlds leading Whale Song Researchers.  And he told me that at the end of this research presentation, the researchers final slide was a big question mark.  Despite all of the research and study and popularity surrounding Megaptera novaengliae, one of it's most endearing behaviors is still a complete mystery. 

When Chris told me this story, I just shook my head and mused about how exciting and amazing it is that we still have so much to learn about the oceans and the life in it. 

He said, "yeah, it's like this mix between frustrating and awesome".
_______________________________________________

If there is still so much we don't know about one of most popular sea creatures alive today, imagine what we don't know about less charismatic sea creatures? Imagine what we may still learn, and what we may never get a chance to learn? 
_______________________________________________

On a slightly more whimsical note, the Whale Watching trip wasn't the only stop we made on this trip, thank goodness.  We got to the area a little early, and managed to get up even further, to a little tourist attraction known as Rock Port.  There we found some cool art shops, clothes shops, and what good ol' Google had brought up as the best Austrian Bakery in New England.  I had looked it up because we have not one, but TWO Americorps members this year who are fluent in German and have spent considerable time in Germany or Austria.  I have to say, the raspberry cheese strudel I got from Helmut's Strudel was one of the best pastries I've consumed in a long time.  Unsurprisingly, the two German-speakers weren't as impressed ;-)

.... but I think it's safe to say we still all had a boat-load of fun.


Happy trails, smooth sailing, don't forget your snacks and your bathroom breaks, enjoy the little things as much as the great big things, embrace the frustrating AND the awesome...and if everyone remembers their raincoats, it won't rain.

Sea Names, Fornicating Snails, And Other Such Silliness On The Shores Of New London

It's fitting that 0345 in the morning on the third day of my east-coast, year-long "service project", the second straight sleepless night, and just about four and a half YEARS since my last post on this blog, is the moment I decide to pick up the proverbial pen again.  Considering what the last 9 months have brought in terms of experiences, struggles, and challenges....I can only say that first: I'm proud as hell of myself for doing this, and second: it's about damn time.  It's certainly a nostalgic feeling, like blowing dust off an old award, or some other old souvenir that perhaps others see and perhaps even enjoy, but it doesn't mean quite as much to anyone else.

So I'm in Connecticut now...no big deal.  In case you couldn't hear it through the computer, re-read the last sentence and imagine thick sarcasm surrounding the last three words.  Because for me (and for a few others close to me that have chose to or otherwise deal with me - Hi Mom and Dad) this HAS been a VERY big deal.  Six weeks ago I was only vaguely aware of the opportunity that later would take me more than 3,000 miles from home.  It only became a possible opportunity 4 weeks ago Wednesday, and until I was on that plane, 30,000 feet in the air with Mt. Hood only the closest feature on the board game-sized state of Oregon, I wasn't sure I would actually take it.  In fact a few times I was pretty certain I wouldn't take it. 

And yet, amidst all the failed efforts at packing, ridiculous non-sensical frustrations, constantly feeling that only certain demise awaited me....I made it here.  I made it this far.  I live, I'm relatively comfortable, I have a roof over my head, a cool room mate, awesome co-members, and as of 8 hours or so ago, I have Wi-Fi for crying out loud.

I'm going to cut this short.  Leave some tales left untold, at least for now.  But in a fleeting moment of clarity and motivation worth remembering, where ideas, emotions, and actions seem to flow and dance together, fitting into place, I'll conclude with this...fitting (haha) pledge.  As the kids these days put it, I'm hashtag justgonnaleavethishere:

---------------------------

I will get things done for America - to make our people safer, smarter, and healther;
I will bring Americans together to strengthen our communities;
Faced with apathy, I will take action;
Faced with conflict, I will seek common ground;
Faced with adversity, I will persevere;
I will carry this commitment with me this year and beyond;

I am an AmeriCorps Member, and I will get things done.

--------------------------

Lets dust this off too....

Happy trails, smooth sailing, namaste; be bold, listen to Dueling Ninjas by Trace Bundy; Crepidula fornicata; happy 4:20; if it's two am and I say I'm in a meeting, don't ask why.  See you in a hot sec. good morning? good night.

The Flight of the Anchor (March 8th, 2012)

Twelve days left in Belize. We’re currently in Placencia, and will be for at least the next four or five days while I get my SCUBA cert. I’m starting my first day of diving today. Yesterday was all bookwork. I should have had the book read backwards and forwards by now, having it for the past nine months.  I always was a phenomenal procrastinator.  In any case, it didn’t matter; I aced all the quizzes the first and only time through.  I will say that watching the video for EVERY. SINGLE. SECTION…. back to back to back….well, it wasn’t like I hadn’t been through longer spans of time in a class room, but I felt like I was missing out.  And I was.  For all five sections, there is a video, and each video is geared to be watched before a confined water swim.  PADI obviously expects five confined water dives prior to going out and taking on the open ocean…I get a make-shift “confined water dive” in the shallows off of Laughing Bird Caye.  It would be nice to have more time to get comfortable with the equipment, but is that COMPLAINING I hear? What’s that, Addison? I’m learning to dive in the tropics, with golden sun, blue sky and miles of reef a mere conch call away, instead of a 12 foot man-made pool? That’s right. Thanks for the reminder.

Here’s another. This particular gem that I’m about to share is one I know already will be a favorite when I recall this trip to parents, family, friends, grandchildren…or the lady with the pretty white shoes sitting next to me at the bus stop… (pause for recognition of the Forrest Gump reference).  I was woken up yesterday morning at who knows which wee hour of the morning, to my Uncle Fred gently knocking on my ceiling hatch. “Addison”, he yelled ever so sweetly to jar me out of my slumber, “come up and help, we dragged anchor.”

Forgive the necessary tangent, it won’t take long.  This is a perfect example of my uncle’s personality.  He stresses, he frets, I KNOW he must, but he never ever shows it.  In fact, you’d think he was downright bored with the fact that his 43 foot, several ton twin hull capable of crushing man and palm tree had just drug 100 yards down the anchorage. 

I, on the other hand, have not and likely never will master such a skill.  Because when those words crept their way into my dreamy ear canals, they may just have well been buckets of ice.  I was up, out on deck, and looking for the anchor chain before I realized I was still only in my boxer briefs.  Gotta love my polyester Hanes, they never chafe…. TMI? Sorry, moving on.

Let me make it clear, if it wasn’t already, that dragging anchor is NOT a fun experience.  Because more than likely it’s dark, and you’re still dazed and shaking the sleep off, trying to center yourself in the bay or harbor or wherever you anchored. For the first few minutes, your eyes adjust and you don’t know if you’ve run aground, hit a boat, etc.  Millions of synapses are firing, neurons flashing and dashing like Space Mountain.  BUT….but, we were fortunate enough to have none of the above horrors strike my heightened senses.  And when I realized that we were perfectly safe despite our boat’s late night stroll, my excited fear turned to excited laughter.  Ahh, that familiar one-two punch of body releasing adrenaline and endorphins (yes, you know what feeling I’m talking about, and yes, I see you smirking). 

So… while it took us another forty minutes of idling around the mile wide harbor to find a solid hold again and fall with a crash back into my cabin, I couldn’t be bothered.  I mean hell, I was standing there at the bow of the boat, anchor chain fading into the dark calm water, learning an integral part of sailing life.  I was doing exactly what I came to do, AND I was doing it mostly naked.  You put yourself in that kind of situation and tell me you don’t feel free. 

…Maybe I won’t be quite so descriptive when I tell my grandkids that story. 

Happy Trails, smooth sailing, smile big, hang loose, bridle up and motor back.  

Every-day People, part 1: Mi Familia de Catamaran

Cruisers are a different breed of person.

I knew it to be true before I even left. Let's face it, you start to get an idea after a few family get-together's Still, my understanding of the concept was not only validated but renewed with vigor not 24 hours after arrival. It is the romance of the landscape that inspires you to go sail, the success and excitement that inspire you to keep sailing, but it really is the people you meet that inspire you to make it a lifestyle. With that in mind, I have decided to dedicate a series of my travel updates to the people I have met as a way of better telling my story, since they have either contributed to or have been the drivers of all the things I've seen, done, and enjoyed since coming to the Caribbean.

It really has to start with the people I got to know over the first week and a half at the marina. I already mentioned getting invited for drinks with the four with the million-dollar sailboat/yacht/lounge/cinema.

There was another from our tennis crew who stood at about 6'6” and I couldn't help but nickname Woodstock. He kept his pony-tail hair under a ball cap that had more holes in it than my tennis racket. It fit on top of his care-free head perfectly, though I think if I'd touched it it would have turned to dust.

The couple from Canada who rounded out the tennis group had mad skills on the court and if they were playing at the same Texas Hold-em table would rob you blind before turning on each other. Being cruisers and therefore minimalists by default, they catch most of their diet when they're underway. But regular fishing isn't they're style. They catch their food by spear-fishing with Hawaiian slings.

One of the constants at the marina was the guy everyone's probably seen in a movie somewhere, typical if you even call it that, the one with the slightly southern accent who might be at the bar, might be watching t.v. in the lounge, might be coming out of the bano or just walking around aimlessly, but always has a knack for popping up wherever and whenever you are, and always with a lesson or a story to tell. Who can't love a guy who's flown choppers over Vietnam, ran intelligence from East Germany, married a Brazilian and still offers to take you in his dinghy up to a local hotspot to meet the owner's beautiful daughter?

The night before we headed out, the yacht next to ours was having a little party, which of course we were invited on board for after getting back from dinner. While my aunt and uncle decided to pack it in, I was more than willing to step over to the dark side. Here I met a whole new parade of wonders, not least of which was the captain. This man was such a genius in the DIY category that he had designed a hard roof for their boat, took pure pleasure in the red carpet he had installed in his engine room, and most importantly of all, built a self-dispensing beer cooler above their freezer. Woodstock was in attendance with his wife who was nearly as tall as him. An anesthesiologist who was quite inebriated was able to (multiple times) pinball herself seemingly on accident off of at least two people and safely into a chair. The captain told us each seat was thus strategically placed since they have so many parties on board. Lastly was a spitting image of Captain Barbossa from Pirates of the Caribbean, who insisted on standing on the very stern of the ship and threatening to fall backward multiple times. Like any proper sailor, he never lost his footing no matter how much he teetered and swayed, and I realized later that his proximity to the rear of the boat was directly related to a slightly impaired bladder control. This was the man who was apparently responsible for the Dr. Pepper advertisement of the 1970's that propelled the soda to national popularity.

When we finally cut loose from our mooring at Marina Catamaran in the morning of Saturday the third, there were many goodbyes and promises of staying in touch. One thing about cruisers is that they all have boat cards which they pass around, and they all seem to run into each other quite frequently (apparently the seven seas are still part of a small world). But we had at least five other cruisers there at our dock, helping us push off, like there was nothing in the world they'd rather be doing than helping their friends off, and it became quite a momentous occasion.

I got the feeling that they had all been in that same position before. After all, with any large heavy moving object, it's easy to hit something, so the more eyes and hands, the better. Still, I was amazed at the ease of it all. How easy these people come to aid one another, how easy they smile, how easy they party; how easy they share the fantastic stories of how they came to be where they are, which were often not so easy. These people are and were hard workers, integral parts of society, game-makers and game-changers. Not one of them were idle in their lives; if they had been, they wouldn't have been able to afford their seemingly idle lives now. But of course, even these lives are far from idle, for they are filled with taming waters, constantly fixing things, meeting new people, and making it fun. I expected to meet people who were running away, who lived on their boats because they disagreed with the politics or culture or common life they had left behind. Not so. These people are the A-type personalities, the ones who get stuff done and got stuff done, who knew what they wanted and knew how to get it: they knew how to succeed. And here I find them all bunched together in one place? And in a tropical place? What a ride.

Happy trails, smooth sailing, smile big, buy someone a drink, do what you love and make it look easy, especially when it isn't.