Not Working, But Working
John liked to play.
John Jack believed that all work and no play made Johnny a dull boy. He and I once ventured to the University of St. Thomas to see one of the world's leading paleoanthropologists, Meave Leakey, PhD[1], lecture on the origins of the human species. The place was packed, and we stood out as a couple of very old guys in a hall of college students.
Dr. Leakey laid out her theory in this order: 1. Bipedalization: human ancestors learned to stand erect and to get around on our hind legs. 2. Manual Dexterity: our ancestors figured out how to maximize the use of our hands now that they weren’t being used for walking around. 3. Encephalization. human brains developed to manage the changing environment and the use of front limbs that were becoming different from our rear limbs.
John and I left Dr. Leakey’s lecture in awe, never to forget the three cornerstones of how our ancestors evolved, and talked about them for years to come. Literally. At lunch on a random day, John might finish a bite of his Cobb salad and say, “If it wasn’t for bipedalization, we would have never gotten to the manual dexterity I needed to hold this fork!”
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And on warm and windy afternoons, we’d venture out to John’s house, push the catboat away from the dock and continue our conversation on Lake Minnetonka. If there was no wind, there was no sailing as the catboat had no motor – intentionally to keep the focus on sailing and not on cruising. There were other boats for that.
Sailing the catboat captured John’s love of the water and his love for being tested. Barely 23’ long, the catboat is design favored by fishermen in the Massachusetts Bay area. The name, as John shared with me (and at first I didn’t believe him), came from the way the boats attracted cats at the docks when the hold was full of fish. So, the sailors referred to them as catboats in honor of their high desirability among the felines.
A catboat bears a wide beam and deep hold for hauling in the daily catch and, more importantly, it was driven by a tiller. The cat-rigged (or gaff) sail could fly more than 350 square feet of sail area and really push the little boat hard. That meant that even in small winds, you had to hold on to the tiller for dear life – which was exactly the point John loved to make. “This is how you sail, Boy!” his voice reeked with a bad pirate accent.
Always a fan of the non-obvious, John loved the boat’s history, it’s connection to the Colonial coast, it’s rigorous sailing technology, and its name.
[1] Meave Leaky. PhD: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meave_Leakey