© Stephen R Cloutier
There are two things that matter in life: hope and fear. That’s what 53 years of living has taught me and I’m right as rain.
You’re a time traveler of sorts in that when you read these words, you’ll know the outcome of this 2024 presidential election and yet as I type, I don’t. I’m not here to pummel political positions because the outcome is fated, but that ‘hope and fear’ bit – that’s determinative.
On the port side, you’ve got the wanderlust of more hopeful times untethered to specifics and with a piss poor explanation as to how they’ll get from here and up and around the windward mark. Too many sea chanties and not enough navigational savvy is a fair criticism. The port side lads IMO have spent too much time hollering about the starboard side baddies and not enough time on boat speed and lay lines. The port side rail needs a good litigator on the helm and one of those tall, lean, ethereal types squinting upwind and making confident tactical calls. Instead, it seems you’ve got the equivalent sailing skills of an Opti Green Fleet clambering to get their hands on the wheel of a T2 with assurances they know what they’re doing. To me, the port side seems earnest, but unprepared.
That salt spray soaking the starboard rail is making those folks nervous. They’ve got the lay line looking good and a fast hull, but there’s the fear of a wind shift. Plus, they’ve bought into the imagery of a Rolex on the wrist and Helly Hansen clothing as evidence they’re real sailors. And Daddy is skippering and while he’s batshit crazy and might T-Bone someone on the downwind leg, it’s easier to follow than lead. The starboard side are tagalongs. The starboard side is always a little fearful. The starboard side is outside the tavern with beers in hand cheering their friend to swing first, never considering the melee to follow.
I’m not a fan of the hyper-individualism that’s eclipsed both sides of the rail. The bilge pump is on because the deficit waters are over the floorboards, but both sets of crew are so focused on winning they’ve forgotten you can’t win if the boat sinks. And all those superyachts crowding each mark rounding have gotten too big.
In letting wealth accumulate in the tens of billions, we’re crowning feudal kings who’ve already started squaring off future digital and galactic fiefdoms. And what the navigator just said is right: the difference between millions and billions is almost too hard to comprehend. Try this example on, you salty financial sort, and tell me we don’t need to tax this monetary bloviation into control: if you make a $1,000/day, it’d take you about three years to make a million dollars, but a billion? Earning the same $1,000/day, it’d take you 2,739 years to earn a billion dollars. So the truth, my friendly mariners, is you don’t ever “earn” a billion dollars. Billionaires accumulate that kind of wealth through time compression using the toil of others and through shortcutting a system designed to keep us all afloat.
And then there’s kindness. The problem with the starboard side, and it’s Judge Elihu Smails spinning the wheel, is he’s given license to acting badly. The classroom’s bullyboy is now the hall monitor jeering at the students and riling the weak into acting like idiots. Country, city or county, we’re all still a mob and the mob follows the gait of its leader. Like how the skipper’s tenor clouds the crew’s constitution so goes the presidency. IMO, we need that kind of calm skipper where the emotive power of an expression and short word motivates you to tighten the next tack, and who treats a win with enthusiasm and a loss with a shrug.
We’ll muddle along whatever the outcome. Sailboat racing isn’t ever dry and warm and swell. If you’re not miserable, someone once said, you’re not doing things right. My daughter reminds me regularly that the accomplishment of sailing is the real high. And maybe, the accomplishment of a persistent democracy is the real high.
We’re in for a squall either way is my thought. Put your foul weather gear on and make sure things are tied down is my advice. And maybe, maybe it’s time to twist around and give the other rail a grin and a good word. We’re all holding onto our individual hopes and fighting fear. We’re all aboard the same boat.
Underway and making way. ■
John K. Fulweiler, Esq. is a Proctor-in-Admiralty representing individuals and small businesses in maritime matters including personal injury claims throughout the East and Gulf Coasts and with his office in Newport, Rhode Island. He can be reached at 1-800-383-MAYDAY (6293) or john@saltwaterlaw.com, or visit his website at saltwaterlaw.com.
