Sailing on a Sunny Spring Sunday

One of the skills I want to learn as part of “The Virgin Chronicles” is sailing. Go figure, since I have a claustrophobic fear of swimming in the ocean and the two are somewhat related. But sailing is about floating on top of the water, yes? Not being in it. Or so I thought.

To gain a better idea of what sailing is like before I take the plunge and sign up for lessons, a school acquaintance took me out on her Laser2 sailboat on a beautiful summer-esque Sunday. Decked out in wetsuits and PFDs, we headed out for a sail off Jericho beach. I must say that Vancouver is an insanely beautiful city when you view it from the water on a perfectly sunny and warm day. It is this summer splendour of mountains, city, water and greenspace that keeps Vancouverites persevering through the grey, rainy seasons through the majority of the year.

So we’re out on the water, Jen’s teaching me a bit of terminology about the sails, gear, wind, etc. We’re chatting about school, graphic design, life in general. She handles the main sail and rudder, I make sure the jib is facing the right way every time we change direction. Because the wind is sporadic, we alternate between near stillness and zipping along nicely. We’re having a pleasant afternoon. Then, in a split second, the boat is leaning too much on the port side and we capsize. Yes, the boat tips sideways and we both fall into the freezing cold water.

Not knowing what to do, except for “never the leave the boat” as Jen had instructed when we were still on shore, I cling to it, and momentarily forget that I’m wearing a PFD; a burst of panic seizes me for a second, my ocean claustrophobia catches my breath. Then my senses return and we work at getting the boat upright. It’s damn hard. This thing is really heavy, I think. Later, we realize that the boat’s plug was open the entire time therefore, it had slowly been taking on water. It seems the excess weight might’ve contributed to the boat being hard to maneuver and hard to upright when we capsized.

We slowly make our way back to shore. My teeth are chattering and I can’t feel a few of my toes but we make it.

Final verdict: Do I want to still learn to sail? Yes, yes I do. Our adventure ran the gamut of what can happen on a sea outing and I like that. Anyone want to take lessons with me?

A Bowl of Goodness

The story of my youngest brother’s mental illness is a familiar one to those who know me well. Last Fall, he moved out of my parent’s place into community living, meaning he, Dennis, lives in a suite with a roommate in a home that is maintained by the local mental health authority. It was a huge step, and in my opinion, a very healthy one for him and my parents.

A few weeks ago, our brother Ken (the middle child) suggested we get together for dinner at Dennis’ house so last week, we did just that. Dennis made us dinner—minestrone soup—a recipe our mom had given him. The soup was really quite tasty and I was really proud of him for hosting his siblings so well. He even offered us tea when we first arrived.

It may seem commonplace to many, but this dinner of three adult siblings over bowls of homemade soup is a milestone for my brothers and I—in our relationships and in Dennis showing he is capable of living a functional life. In the past, I as the eldest and most independent, have entertained, hosted and fed my brothers. Those moments often leave me drained emotionally and physically. Now, the sibling that is struggling the most has taken a turn and it is a slice of hope for better times ahead.

Let us raise a glass—or rather, a soup spoon—to “firsts” of all kinds.