Come what may
To Blue Bayou
Where the folks are fine
And the world is mine
On Blue Bayou
If you are of a certain age, you can hear Linda Ronstad's dulcet tones as she croons this song. It was always one of our favorites so when the hub got ready to launch the first boat (I believe it was some little sailing thing), he named his ship after Linda's song. This was long ago, before texting and other kinds of shorthand messaging swept the world.
Thinking he was being OH SO CLEVER, he carefully stenciled BLUBYU on the stern. But then he showed it to the family: Allyson, a very precise speller, and Zach, who was just learning to read.
"What's Blub You?" she asked.
"The name is BLUE BAYOU," said the captain.
"No way, Dad. It's Blub You. You left out a letter."
Zach chimed in, "Blub blub blub YOU," he chanted.
"Knock it off. Don't you know who Linda Ronstadt is?" (They did not.)
"Is the paint dry, Dad?" asked Allyson.
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, I guess we're stuck with Blub You for our boat."
And Blub You it remained.
In fact, every boat we've owned ended up being called Blub You. And, as Bolingers are wont to do, we shortened it to Blub. Or The Blub. (Only recently did we consider that 'blub' might be connected to the noise one makes as he goes under for the third time....blub blub blub.)
The biggest challenge is that he is left-handed and, even after almost 38 years of marriage, he forgets that I cannot read his mind.
|Hooking up the trailer|
This is NOT my task. This is always HIS task. But he always always always reminds me. I wonder if ever ever ever HE forgot?
|chains still attached|
BRAKES ON!!!. I get out and push the boat into the lake. "DON'T LET GO OF THE LINE YET," he warns.
This is because the drama of Launch Day is just beginning.
Every autumn, we take the Blub out of the lake. We scrub it up all shiny, inside and out. The Captain drains this, checks that, fills those and declares that his ship is ready for winter. We store it in the garage until spring. But, somehow, over the cold months, something usually happens to the Blub. On Launch Day, right at this point in the narrative, as First Mate stands on shore, boat line in hand, the Captain settles into his seat and fires up the engine.
And sometimes....no, make that, almost always, the engine fails to fire. He tries. He chokes it. He speaks to it. He yells at it. And then, First Mate Lynne pulls it back to the trailer where we reattach it and drive to Patona Bay Marina for a tune up. It will be two weeks before we can try again.
I believe that's why we launched early this spring. We figured in those two weeks.
HOWEVER, the Blub fired up. First time. No choking. No yelling.
I believe I may have left early one year, assuming that the ship was ship shape. So another direction is,
"DON'T LEAVE UNTIL I'M MOVING."