Bus Talk

I am on a cross country
Bus trip
Soaking up the scenery,
And eavesdropping on
On some of the conversations
People are having.
Quite a few of
My fellow passengers
Are unemployed
Construction workers
Who are being retrained
By the government
As long haul truck drivers.
One of the guys
Was telling how his class
Started out with
Over 100 participants,
But was narrowed down
To less than thirty-five
After drug testing.
Speaking of drugs,
I witnessed two drug busts
During the course
Of our passage through Texas.
Some idiot had a stash of drugs
In his backpack,
And the sniffer dogs
Zeroed in on that immediately
At the immigration station,
So the police arrested him
And carted him off to jail.
What started off as
An excruciatingly long trip
Became a much, much
Longer trip than he had
Ever expected.
Another guy was caught
Trying to load
A backpack full of drugs
Onto the neighboring bus
At the Dallas bus station.
I guess the prevalence
Of drugs are a
Sign of the times.
These are certainly
Desperate economic times
For many people,
And several of the riders
Had been out of work
For over a year,
So they were keen on
Making extra money
Anyway they could.
What I found interesting
Were the comments
Of several of passengers
Regarding the drug busts.
There was a lot of discussion
On how the two guys
Should have
Transported the drugs.
Quite a few
Of the them seemed
All too familiar
With the purchasing
And the selling of narcotics.
There were also a few passengers
Who insisted on
Telling their life stories,
But most people
Tried to sleep their way
Across the country.

Typhoon

Not long after leaving
Fanning Island,
The winds started to roar
And the waves began
To build up to towering heights.
At one point I recall
Looking up at the mast
And seeing a wave
That looked to be twice its height
Come crashing over
And the next thing I knew
We were bobbing up
Like a giant cork
With the tilt meter
Registering an outrageous
Forty-five degree tilt.
That threw everybody around
And really wrecked havoc
In the kitchen.
Luckily no one
Wash washed overboard.
Those on deck
Had pretty much
Tied themselves down.
I was too excited
And too ignorant
To be scared,
But the truth was
We came very close to capsizing.
I had the indestructible
Naïve teenage faith
That if the boat sank
I would somehow survive
And end up washed onto
Some distant Polynesian shore
Where the local women
Would know how
To revive my spirits.
In three days of howling wind
And raging seas,
We raced nearly a thousand miles
At the incredible pace
Of 12 to 16 knots,
In a boat that couldn't
Have been designed
To sail more than eight.
The Araner may have been old
And in pretty sorry shape
But she sailed
Through that storm
With flying colors,
And did it under full sail.
I don't think any of us
Knew how to sheet in
Which would normally be done
In such rough weather.

The Shake Down Cruise

We had accumulated
A cast of characters
That we called a crew
In preparation for
Sailing to the South Pacific.
My brother and I
Invited a couple island girls
To come along with us
And they were excited
About going.
In our minds
Those girls were
The only provisions we needed
And the fulfillment
Of all our fantasies,
But that was not to be.
The Diamonds,
Proud possessors
Of the Araner,
Decided that a preliminary
Shake down cruise
Was in order
To get a feel for the boat.
My brother went along
As a part of the
Skeleton crew
And I stayed back on shore
With my aunt
Getting her affairs in order.
They were only supposed
To take the boat out
For the day,
But when they didn’t show up
For two days,
We sounded general alarm
And called the Coast Guard
To search for them.
I don’t know how anybody
Could lose a boat that size
But they didn’t seem to be
Anywhere to be found.
I was mainly concerned
They had taken off and left us,
But the boat finally showed up
After three days.
By then the parents
Of the two girls
Had second thoughts
About the whole voyage
And wouldn’t let the girls go.
The parents just didn’t understand
How the boat’s disappearance
Added to the allure of the adventure.
Speaking for my brother and I,
We didn’t see how
Being lost at sea
With a couple girls like them
Would have been a problem.
At any rate,
The boat was ready
And in a day or two
We were on our way.

The Letter

Several months after returning
From the South Pacific,
While I was back at school
At Michigan State University
I received a letter
From a Samoan girl
Whom I met shortly before I left.
I must have made
Quite an impression
Or else she was awfully anxious
To get off that island.
She wanted me
To bring her to the States.
My aunt must have
Taken a liking to her
And passed on my address
Sensing the girl’s intense desire
To flee her island home.
It may have briefly
Been paradise to me,
But it obviously
Wasn’t quite the same
For that girl.
What was comical
About the letter
Was the circuitous route
It took to get to me.
The girl’s English
Was so bad
That the letter was read
By as many as
Thirty or forty people
In my dormitory
Trying to figure out
Who it was for
Before it finally
Made its way to me.
My aunt was always
Trying to be helpful
That way,
But there is no way
That could have worked out,
And it certainly wouldn’t
Have been conducive
To my studies.

The Journal

Throughout the voyage
To the South Pacific
I maintained a journal
Detailing my thoughts,
Observations and impressions.
I painted vivid
Character sketches
Of each of
The people on board
Noting their quirks
And peculiarities
Using words
As my paint
And a notebook
As my canvas.
That became
A sensitive issue
As tempers frayed
And frazzled
From the stress
Of being cooped up
On the boat together
Combined with the suffering
Brought on by
Forced nicotine withdrawal
By those who smoked
When their cigarettes ran out.
A lot of people
Get stressed out
Being stuck out
In the middle of the ocean
For long periods of time.
At one point
The cook jumped overboard
Screaming that she
Couldn’t take it any more.
We managed to fish her back
And the circus continued.
There were a number
Of threats made
To throw various
People overboard
And at one point
Doug Diamond brought out
An ancient musket
And threatened
To shoot a couple people.
In spite of all that
We made it to American Samoa
In one piece
And this is the story of that trip
As recorded in my journal.

The Dreams of My Youth

As a young child
I was free to invent
A world of my choosing
And the world I chose
Was an enchanted place
Full of mysticism
And magic
Where anything
Was possible.
One minute
I could be
Superman
And the very next instant,
Become a cowboy
Or even an Indian.
As I began to read
I chose books of adventure,
Books like
Swiss Family Robinson
And Robinson Crusoe.
I lived those adventures,
And in my mind
They were real.
I dreamed
Of visiting far away lands,
Encountering strange people
And battling dangerous foes.
I dreamed
Of an eventful life,
And to an amazing degree
My dreams have been fulfilled.

The Doldrums

We were a week or two
Out of Hawaii
Sailing South
On the Yacht Araner.
As we neared the equator
The Trade Winds
Died down
And our pace slowed
Until we were
Completely becalmed.
The entire ocean became
Glassy smooth
From horizon to horizon
As far as the eye could see.
The boat rocked
Back and forth,
Back and forth,
Chaffing the lines
One after another,
Until they all broke.
Having no wind
Is hard on a sail boat
In many, many ways
And sometimes harder on the crew.
We struggled to keep
The mainsail tied down
But every time a line broke
It flopped violently,
Slinging itself
From side to side.
I made the mistake
Of trying to hold on
To one of the lines
That broke.
I was raised
Instantly about fifty feet
In the air
Then hurled
From side to side
Holding on for dear life.
Luckily, I was able to
Land back on the deck
Without serious injury
Or further damage to the boat.
We used the rocking
Of the boat
To catapult us
Over the side.
In a dare-devil
Diving competition.
If our timing was not perfect
Then we would land
Smack on the deck
Instead of in the ocean.
Having been a cliff diver,
I could have easily won
By starting out
From the crows nest,
But I challenged the others higher
One rung at a time.
The competition was called off
After I narrowly missed
The side of the boat.
On one of my jumps.
Having run out of wind
We motored for the next
Thousand miles or so
Chugging along
Ever so slowly
For weeks on end.
There was a reason why
These were called
The “Horse Latitudes”
Or the Doldrums.
The old time sailing ships
Didn’t have motors
And could be stuck there
For months on end
Running out of food and water
To feed the horses.
When that happened
They would have little choice
But to throw them overboard,
Thus the area got its name.
It is an equatorial band
Extending around the globe
With no prevailing wind direction
That can be a few hundred miles wide
Or several thousand miles across
Depending on the season.
As the weeks went on
We also began
To run low on food
And our water became foul.
On the southern side
Of the Doldrums
We were tortured with
Sporadic thunder showers
That never seemed to occur
Exactly where our boat was.
For days on end
All the water we needed
Poured and poured
Just beyond our reach.
When we finally did connect
With a local cloud burst,
All we had to collect the water
Running off our sails
Was our little dingy
Which masqueraded as a lifeboat.
It actually ended up being
A fairly useful little boat
For collecting water
After we strained the paint chips out.
That actually
Was about all
The dingy was good for.
It later sank six times on us
Ferrying supplies back
From Fanning Island.
The insanity of fifteen people sailing
The Pacific Ocean
Without even one serviceable lifeboat
Dawned on me some years later.
I can tell you this though,
That rain water sure tasted good
As we stood around on deck
With our heads turned up
And our mouths wide open
Catching every drip we could.
Then we each grabbed
A bar of soap,
Lathered up and had
A most enjoyable shower.
Finally the winds picked up
And we could turn
That noisy engine off
And get back to
The business of sailing
And someday reaching land.

The Chinese Casino

The food had never been
All that plentiful
On the Araner,
And we were tired
Of canned goods anyway
So we were ready
For a meal.
One of the only
Real restaurants in Pago Pago
Was a Chinese place
Which we commandeered
For the occasion.
There were seven of us
Former crew members
Collected around
A big circular table
With a Lazy Susan
In the center.
The food tasted incredibly good
After two and a half months
Of sea rations.
After the table had been cleared
We decided to turn the place
Into a casino.
We used our chop sticks
As convenient table dividers
And the Lazy Susan
As the wheel of fortune.
We each laid money
On our section,
And wherever the wheel stopped
Was the winner
Collecting from all the others.
The locals had apparently
Never thought of such a practical use
For the spinning table
Or observed such merry frolic
And there must have been
Fifty of them
Gathered around watching.
I wouldn’t be surprised
If that place isn’t
Still a casino to this day!

Selecting a Crew

Imagine if you can
The game
Of choosing a crew
To sail with you
Halfway around the world.
Who would you pick
To share your adventure?
Would you look for people
Who knew how to sail?
Would you look for those
With a passion for the sea?
Would you look for dreamers
Drifting along with the breeze?
The Diamonds had accumulated
A crew of local characters,
None of whom
Had much experience under sail.
The most capable member
Was a guy we called Sugar Baer
Who had spent time in the Navy
On a submarine under the sea
Which qualified him as captain.
Both of the Diamond’s
Teenage daughters
Recruited surfers from Oahu
To keep them company
Throughout the trip.
There was also the Diamond’s
Seven year old son.
The crew also included a lawyer
Trying to make his escape.
My brother, Lee, and I
Picked up the two surfers
Hitchhiking on the Kona coast,
And they told us about the Araner
And the fact that they
Were looking for a crew.
We stopped briefly
At my aunt’s house
On the way to the boat
And she was invited too.
She had dreamed
Of sailing ships
And adventures at sea
For almost all her 69 years,
And this was a dream come true.
The Diamonds had decided
To charge a fee for passage
Although that was
Clearlyly in violation
Of Coast Guard regulations
For a wooden boat
Of that size,
But illegality
Didn’t seem to
Matter to anyone,
Least of all to my aunt.
She was glad to pay
And very excited
About the opportunity.
We rounded out the crew
With a couple of hippie guys
Who happened along
And a girl who
Was recruited as a cook.
There were fifteen of us in all
When we finally set sail.
That wasn’t exactly the mix
My brother and I,
Being teenagagers ourselves
Had hoped for though.
When we were told
More crew members were needed,
We commenced a search
For the two most beautiful
Companions we could find
To accompany us
On the voyage.
We had finally
Narrowed it down
After a couple days
Of extensive searching
To two rather exquisite
Local island girls,
And their parents
Had even agreed
To let them go.
As luck would have it,
The boat was taken
Out for a test sail,
And disappeared
For three days,
And the Coast Guard
Couldn’t even find them,
So the parents backed out,
And wisely, I must admit,
Wouldn’t let
Their teenage daughters
Sail with us.
Sei and I were
Momentarily broken hearted
But only for
A moment or two.
Once we got underway,
We were flat out excited.

Palmyra Island

After enduring the Doldurms
And a month and a half at sea,
We were more than ready for
The sight of land.
The funny thing was
That we sailed
Most of the way around the island
Before we were sure
Which one it was.
The sextant tended to be
A somewhat dubious tool
For figuring out
Where we were
In the hands of
Sugar Baer and Doug Diamond.
The two could never quite agree
On where they thought we were.
As it turned out
We were at the island of Palmyra.
It is a tropical island
Just north of the equator
And south of Hawaii.
It was uninhabited then,
But the huts of those
Who once lived there
Could readily be seen
Amongst the palm trees
There along the shore.
It looked like
A fantastic place to explore
Especially with all the wrecks
Of ocean ships
That could be seen
Captured in its harbor.
In fact,
We almost added
One more ship to the toll
When we ran aground
About two miles off shore.
Apparently we missed the channel
Coming in and ended up
Stuck on a coral reef.
My brother and I
Wanted to go explore the island
And check out
Some of the other ship wrecks,
And actually started out
In that precarious little dingy
We jokingly called a lifeboat.
It became immediately clear,
However,
That there were a few problems
With that innocent plan.
First of all
The chances of making it to shore
Through the pounding surf
Were highly unlikely
In that unstable boat.
Second, assuming that we made it there
How would we get back?
Last but not least,
We observed numerous
Extremely large sharks
Including what looked to be
A fifteen foot hammerhead
Right beneath our dingy.
Wisdom got the better of valor
And we turned back to the boat.
The island was used as
An undersea burial site
For arms and munitions
Left over from World War II
Which in turn
Contaminated the local fish
Forcing the islanders to move.
As a consequence
The local waters
Had not been fished
For many years
And some of the fish
Had grown incredibly large
As we could readily see.
It took us most of the day
To work ourselves
Off the reef,
And some of us
Wanted to give the channel another try
But the Diamonds
Refused to try their luck again.
Generally most of us
Get where we are going
With some balance
Of luck and skill
But when skill is nonexistent
And your luck is horribly bad,
Then you will likely turn
And head the other direction
Just as they did!

Pago Pago

So we made it back
To civilization
From our sea adventure
Or at least to
The American Samoan
Version of it.
It was there that
My brother,
My aunt and myself
Jumped ship
And decided to head
Our separate ways,
But in the few days
Before I headed off
Back to the university
For a more classical
Educational curriculum,
We added a couple
More adventures
To our take.
Sei and I rented a couple
Sunfish sailboats,
And sailed out of the harbor
To challenge
The major ocean swells
Just outside.
The Coast Guard took
A rather dim view
Of our recreation,
And after attempting
To go out and rescue us
Three separate times,
Made us get out of there.
I must admit
That it was a bit treacherous,
But by that time,
We were both fairly confident
Of our ability
To handle the ocean,
Well maybe
Just a little overconfident.
That first night
We found a local
Chinese restaurant
Which had a big
Circular table
With a large Lazy Susan
In the center.
We commandeered
Some chop sticks
And made he table into
A makeshift gambling table.
We would lay cash
On the table
And spin the wheel,
And whoever the stick
Ended up pointing to
Was the winner.
We must have had
Half the town
Watching in fascination
And perhaps wonder
As we carried on
And enjoyed ourselves.
As far as I know,
That table might still
Be used for that purpose
To this day!
Then later after we eat seafood
To our hearts content,
We extended
The evening
To one of the local bars
Where we discovered
Exactly what island hospitality
Is all about.
I think that was the night
We make up for
Three months of celibacy
Spent at sea.
I had read so many stories
By James Michener
About the island charm,
Stories like Hawaii
Tales of the South Pacific
And Rascals in Paradise,
And it was all true,
And we were definitely
Rascals in Paradise.

My World

Of all the many gifts
That I have been given,
The one I appreciate most
Is the ability to find
Countless forms of beauty
In the world around me.

My world is filled
With magnificent mysteries
Worthy of my inquiry,
Fascinating intricacies,
Amazing coincidences
And limitless possibilities.

Each day is an opportunity
To explore and to discover,
To test the limits of what I know,
To challenge myself
And the world around me
And to learn a thing or two.

I live in a constantly changing world
Where spontaneity is a virtue,
Where even the best laid plans
Must continually be adjusted,
A world where I have learned to play
And not take life so seriously.

It is a world filled with people
Of infinite variety
And each person
Has a story to tell,
Some wisdom to pass on
If I will only listen.

Hidden beneath coarse exteriors
And elaborate artificial barriers
Are real people worth knowing,
Artisans of creative inspiration,
People of unimagined genius
And ordinary people doing extraordinary things.

Most of those I meet
Seem to march to the beat
Of a different drummer than I,
And each unique rhythm
Contributes to the cadence
Of the music of my life.

There are times of harmony
When I am present
To love, peace and joy
And the serenity they bring,
And times of discord
When I am totally out of tune.

When I open my eyes
What I am present to is
The soft sensuality of a woman,
The fire of romance,
The magic of partnership
And the ecstasy of life.

When I open my ears
What I am present to is
The power of acknowledgment,
The generosity of friendship,
And the sound of real communication
And the fulfillment it provides.

When I open my heart
What I am present to is
Abundance in every form,
The gift of being human,
The glory of being alive
And the words of a poem.

My Kind of World

It is an extraordinary world
In which I’m privileged to live,
Full of passion and promise
And possibilities galore.

It is an amazing place
Of incredible beauty,
Natural wonders,
And constant change.

It is a special place
Where I can pursue
My wildest dreams
Or be anything I choose.

It is an immense world
Full of romantic characters,
Leaders of enormous stature,
And heroes of mythic proportions.

It is a fascinating place
Filled with common people
Leading extraordinary lives,
Making a difference in the world.

It is my kind of world,
Full of courageous intimacies,
Acknowledgment beyond measure
And exuberant poetic expression.

It is the world I choose!

My Brother's Travels

Lee answered the call of the road
Instead of heading back to college
After our voyage to American Samoa.
He became something
Of a world traveler
And a hippie vagabond.
I sometimes wondered
What my life might have been like
Had I gone on and done the same.
He spent some time over in Figi
Then hitched a ride on another sailboat,
One whose mission was to disrupt
The French nuclear tests
Being executed at that time
On some of the remote coral atolls.
They did that
Green Peace fashion
By sailing to ground zero
At the time of each scheduled blast
To force its postponement.
That must have been interesting!
Eventually he ended up
In New Zealand
Sheep herding of all things.
From there he drifted on to Australia
And sometime later
Found his way
Up to Indonesia and New Guinea.
We finally met again
Almost two and a half years later
In Thailand where I was serving
As a Peace Corps Volunteer.
He even spent a while
Bumming around down in Peru,
But he headed back to the US
And has stayed there ever since.
There was a time
When we each thought
The only times we would
Meet each other
Would be in passing
On some far corner
Of the planet,
But life never went
Exactly the way
Either of us planned.

Maintaining the Boat

As anyone who has ever
Had a boat can attest,
Maintaining a boat
Can be a full time occupation
And then some,
Especially if the boat
Is the size of the Araner.
There are things
That should be done
On a fairly regular basis
To keep a boat operational,
And few of these had been done
For the Araner.
To start with,
Her wooden hull was leaking
So pumping the bilge
Was a perpetual task
Complicated because the seals
On the hand pumps were wearing out.
The teakwood deck
Had not been properly sealed
And varnished
For a long, long time,
So it needed to be soaked down
Regularly with salt water
To keep it from splintering.
I have no idea how many buckets
We lost over the side
Trying to collect water
For that purpose.
After a month or two at sea
The toilets began to fail
And could no longer be used.
Climbing into the bow sprints
For sanitary purposes
Was an adventure
In and of itself
Especially when under full sail.
We tended to get saniflushed
Every time the hull
Cut through another wave,
And had to hold on
For dear life,
But it was very effective
At cleaning us out!
The Araner was equipped
With some rather large fresh water tanks
But they quickly became foul
Probably because they were not
Properly maintained either.
The Araner was equipped with
Ship to shore radio
Which was seldom if ever operational.
The engines and generator
Also required a lot of work
And it was a credit to Sugar Baer
That they operated at all.
In fact, early on
We spent considerable time and effort
Trying to find Johnston Island,
A restricted US naval base,
On the hopes that they would make
Emergency repairs
To get us back under way.
The biggest flaw to that plan
Was that we weren’t able to find it!
Who knows whether or not
The scam would have worked
Had we been able to try it out.
Well the Araner needed to be retrofitted,
That much was obvious,
And that was the stated reason
We were headed to the South Pacific
In the first place.

Fanning Island

As far as islands go
It wasn’t a very big place,
Maybe only a few miles across,
But it sure looked mighty good
After a couple months at sea.

Fanning Island was a coral atoll
Covered in the palm trees
Of a copra plantation,
A lonely British protectorate
Largely left out of the 20th Century.

It housed a small population
Of several hundred people
Of Polynesian descent,
And a British governor
Who ruled the land.

We managed to motor
Into the inner lagoon
After nearly running aground
While navigating
The entrance channel.

My brother and I
Couldn’t believe our eyes
When we saw the Island girls
Swimming out to the boat
To greet us.

I had read a bit about
South Pacific Island hospitality,
And they were the fulfillment
Of ever fantasy
I ever entertained.

They only get two ships a year
Coming in with supplies
And picking up the coconuts,
So visitors were rare
To that part of the world.

They were probably as anxious
To get off that Island
As we were
To get off the ship,
But rules got in the way.

My brother and I
Left the states
In such a hurry
That we neglected
To get our US passports.

Imagine attempting to sail
Around the world
And forgetting such a detail,
But that was
Exactly what we had done!

As a consequence
My brother and I
Weren’t allowed off the boat
And the girls
Weren’t allowed on.

Damn the British
Rules of propriety!

We were almost
Completely out of supplies,
So the Islanders sold us
What they could,
Which wasn’t a very much.


What little supplies there were
Was more than
Our dingy could handle
And it ended up sinking six times
Ferrying supplies back and forth.

A few of the crew members
Entertained the idea
Of jumping ship there
And trying to catch
Another boat back.

They were dissuaded
From that plan
By the fact
That it might be another six months
Until the next boat came along.

Much to the governor’s delight
We headed back out to sea
After only a day at the Island,
Intent on sailing to Samoa,
And looking forward to whatever
New adventures were in stow for us.

Enthusiasm

On a recent trip to Disneyland
The parents of a five year old
Were rudely awakened
From a sound sleep
By a blood curdling scream
Of their anxious young son.
As they jerked awake
Wondering what on earth happened,
The little boy frantically yelled
Get Up! Get Up!
As if it was an emergency.
When they asked
What was the matter,
He informed them
That the sun was up
And it was time to go!
Such enthusiasm is hard to take
At 6:30 in the morning
For most of us old foggies.
Do you ever wonder
Where our enthusiasm
For each new day went?

Big Shrimp, Little Shrimp

I enjoy going fishing
Whenever I get a chance.
It is one of
The simple pleasures of life
That I seldom
Take the time to do,
But on one such rare occasion,
I decided to fish
From a bridge
There in Miami, Florida
Late one night.
In doing so
I joined the ranks of shrimpers
Who were out in force
With their lanterns aglow
Attracting the shrimp
To their waiting nets.
What was amusing to me,
But probably not for them,
Was that the bait I was using
Were jumbo shrimp
Which made the shrimp
They were catching
Look positively puny.
There they were
Working so hard
To collect their catch
And I was throwing in
Shrimp four times the size of theirs
To try to catch a fish.

Bar Room Etiquette

My brother and I
Were moseying around
Pago Pago, Samoa
Late one evening
Shortly after our arrival
Looking for something to do
When we found a local bar
That was completely full.
Every seat and table
Were taken.
Lee was my younger brother
But he was a bit more
Worldly than I.
He told me to watch
As he proceeded to buy
A round of drinks
For one of the tables,
And the next thing we knew
The table was cleared,
And we were seated
With a couple island girls.
Now I am not much of a drinker,
Never have been
And never will be,
But it is permanently etched
In my mind
How smoothly that worked.
Thanks Bro!

A Fish Vigil

Have you ever had
Fish stare at you
While you are trying
To eat a fish dinner?
If you are ever
On the Island of Oahu,
There is a fish restaurant
Which features
A three-story high
Saltwater aquarium
Fully stocked with
A wide variety
Of reef fish,
A couple turtles,
Some eels,
A number of sharks
And some stingrays.
They also have some
Human mermaids
Who swim around the tank
And feed the fish by hand
To entertain the tourists.
As you relax
To enjoy the show,
Your fish dinner is served,
And it almost seems like
The fish in the tank
Know what is going on,
For numbers of them
Take up a vigil
Watching you eat,
As if trying
To make you feel guilty
For eating their relatives.
It makes for
An interesting ambiance.