My one and only son-in-law is a writer and without bias I must say a damn good one. Makes me bloody jealous. I use to be a far better writer than I am now. It seems the years plus the degradation of my language skills have taken their toll and I notice my ability to write well is slipping further and further away. I really understand what George Bernard Shaw meant when he stated that “Youth is wasted on the young”. There is so much I want to and could write about but I find it harder to organize my thoughts and then put them to paper in a way that readers would find interesting. There is also the choice of topics. What do I write about? I love History but most people are not interested in it. If I choose to write about Politics or Religion I undoubtedly go off on a ranting diatribe which I end up erasing the greater part of. I have written about growing old in a jocular fashion because if I didn’t I think I’d become very depressed as I really hate getting on in years. Some have suggested I write about my life experiences because they seem to think they are different than most. Personally I don’t think my life has been that different than thousands of others. I’ve had some adventures and misadventures. Travelled a fair bit, work in a couple of countries, fought in one and convalesced from wounds in another. Been married which lasted 13 years ( I really messed it up) have 2 daughters, whom I love dearly, owned my own 24 foot sailboat and crewed in races on others. I have sailed most of Lake Ontario, parts of Lake Erie, The Gulf of St. Lawrence and parts of the Atlantic. Went face surfing in the Gulf when I fell overboard in a force 10 gale. My harness kept me attached to the boat. Had the living daylights scared out of me when a whale surfaced about 50 feet from the boat at night. Thought for bloody sure it was a sea monster looking for a mid-night snack. Took about five minutes to catch my heart which was flopping around in the cockpit. I swear I heard that whale laughing. Bet he couldn’t wait to tell his buddies about the dumbass human he’d scared the hell out of. Been reported missing at sea and the S.A.R. plane sent looking for us. We weren’t missing we knew exactly where we were. The problem was we couldn’t tell anyone as the storm had ripped our antenna off so we had no radio. Really my life experiences haven’t been that unusual O.K. maybe a little.
I could write about my experiences in war but then that would just turn into a bunch of “war stories” and who wants to read about picking up body parts and putting them in a sand bag. There is always my love life (Yeah OK) although I must admit it had some high points but they like everything else are starting to fade. Like I say “What I once did all night now takes all night to do”. I could write about the famous people I have met, all 3 of them. One an ex U.S. President, one a singer, and one a Canadian writer. There was the time in 1963 I told a young British singer, Lulu, that she couldn’t sing. I was drunk at the time. Just a few days after that, drunk again, I stood on the ruined ramparts of Urquhart Castle on Loch Ness calling for Nessie to show itself. I don’t drink anymore haven’t for almost 40 years. Funny thing about that is I never really liked the stuff with the exception of White Wine. I could have become a world class wino.
Well here I sit pondering what to write about and wondering if I can make whatever it is interesting enough for others to read. I had an uncle who spent 13 years in the Royal Navy and could he tell stories. Nick never really lied but he could embellish a mundane occurrence into a epic adventure and have you roaring in laughter. Could use his help right about now.