withdaddy
nancy & daddy2
nancy & daddy
mama & daddy

Millennium Musings...

 reprinted from Nautical Scene's January issue 2000

The holiday decorations are put away. The holidays have come and gone. I sit at my computer mentally replaying the entire hub-bub event. As a writer I deal with people, yachting and feature stories in the Caribbean. What others call "a fantasy life" is a real life to me. However, I try never to confuse my life with my work. My work is what I do. My life is what I live.

Before my father died, while he was bedridden with cancer in an American hospital, we had long talks about life. As I sit here this morning reflecting on what a new year, a new century and a new millennium will bring I reminisce on his musings of more than thirty years ago.

 I was a teacher with high hopes when he reminded me that thousands of people in the world shared my degree and profession, adding that although there were many people working as I worked, I was the only one alive who had total custody of my life.

As he lay dying he made sure that I understood that my life was just that - it was a life, an entire life, that belonged to me - only to me. He wasn't talking about my life as a teacher or later as a journalist. Nor was he speaking of my life as a sailor, mother, wife or lover. He was talking about the life of my heart - not the life of my intellect, but about the life of my soul.
 
 We sailors don't talk about soul much anymore. We realize that it is difficult to mold the spirit. But our spirit is, in the end, who and what we are. Our lives are about more than bigger boats and paychecks. We concern ourselves with simple everyday things that bring pleasure - watching the Caribbean sun at dawn as it turns from bright orange to yellow lighting up an already warm sky or the swirls and glides of a hungry pelican as he dives into the water for his morning's catch.

My father reminded me to lead a life in which I am not alone. "Find people you love, and who love you, and remember that love is not leisure, it is work! Learn to appreciate your connection with others by picking up the phone or writing a letter. (Now, of course I can send e-mail.) Hug an older friend after I am gone and spend more time in your garden enjoying the flowers, not simply tending to them."

He told me to remember the moon's phases and rejoice in its beauty. He was telling me that life is the best thing I have and that I have no business in taking it for granted. And so I look at this opportunity of "a new time" and I vow to find the goodness in life and learn to spread it around, like peanut butter on my morning toast.

As the writer Anna Quindlen says, "We all want to do well in life but if we do not do good, too, then doing well will never be enough." It is so easy to waste our lives: our days, our hours, our minutes. It is so easy to take for granted the color of the bright hibiscus, the sheen of the Caribbean Sea on a warm clear day, the brilliance of the tropical fish that we see while snorkeling, the sounds of pan vibes as played by our local bands. It is so easy to exist instead of live.

My father also told me to love the journey, not the destination. Years later, as my only sibling died of AIDS, I learned that life is indeed not a dress rehearsal; it is the real thing. Today is the only guarantee we get. I am trying to be kind. I am learning to look for joy in the world and to share that, in part, through writing. I try to enjoy the thrill of rounding a mark heading for the finish - the spray of water splashing my feet. I am taking the time to sit in the sun and watch it set - postponing dinner or work. I am learning to be happy. Each day is a precious gift filled with joy and passion and simplicity.

I remember an old drunk that used to hang out on the docks at Yacht Haven in St. Thomas in the 80's. One day I sat down next to him. We dangled our feet in the water. I asked him how he could just sit on this dock, day after day, looking into the water? He looked me straight in the eye and stated quite simply, "Look at the day, Nancy. Just look at the day."

So now at the start of this new year, century and millennium, I remember the words of an old "rummy" with no place to go, nothing to do, nowhere to be and without a dollar in his pocket. Look at the day, dear friends, look at today. My wish for you is that you'll never be disenchanted.

 

Millennium Musings
By - Nancy Terrell

The holiday decorations are put away. The holidays have come and gone. I sit at my computer mentally replaying the entire hub-bub event. As a writer I deal with people, yachting and feature stories in the Caribbean. What others call "a fantasy life" is a real life to me. However, I try never to confuse my life with my work. My work is what I do. My life is what I live.
Before my father died, while he was bedridden with cancer in an American hospital, we had long talks about life. As I sit here this morning reflecting on what a new year, a new century and a new millennium will bring I reminisce on his musings of more than thirty years ago. I was a teacher with high hopes when he reminded me that thousands of people in the world shared my degree and profession, adding that although there were many people working as I worked, I was the only one alive who had total custody of my life.
As he lay dying he made sure that I understood that my life was just that - it was a life, an entire life, that belonged to me - only to me. He wasn't talking about my life as a teacher or later as a journalist. Nor was he speaking of my life as a sailor, mother, wife or lover. He was talking about the life of my heart - not the life of my intellect, but about the life of my soul.
  We sailors don't talk about soul much anymore. We realize that it is difficult to mold the spirit. But our spirit is, in the end, who and what we are. Our lives are about more than bigger boats and paychecks. We concern ourselves with simple everyday things that bring pleasure - watching the Caribbean sun at dawn as it turns from bright orange to yellow lighting up an already warm sky or the swirls and glides of a hungry pelican as he dives into the water for his morning's catch.
My father reminded me to lead a life in which I am not alone. "Find people you love, and who love you, and remember that love is not leisure, it is work! Learn to appreciate your connection with others by picking up the phone or writing a letter. (Now, of course I can send e-mail.) Hug an older friend after I am gone and spend more time in your garden enjoying the flowers, not simply tending to them."
He told me to remember the moon's phases and rejoice in its beauty. He was telling me that life is the best thing I have and that I have no business in taking it for granted. And so I look at this opportunity of "a new time" and I vow to find the goodness in life and learn to spread it around, like peanut butter on my morning toast.
As the writer Anna Quindlen says, "We all want to do well in life but if we do not do good, too, then doing well will never be enough." It is so easy to waste our lives: our days, our hours, our minutes. It is so easy to take for granted the color of the bright hibiscus, the sheen of the Caribbean Sea on a warm clear day, the brilliance of the tropical fish that we see while snorkeling, the sounds of pan vibes as played by our local bands. It is so easy to exist instead of live.
My father also told me to love the journey, not the destination. Years later, as my only sibling died of AIDS, I learned that life is indeed not a dress rehearsal; it is the real thing. Today is the only guarantee we get. I am trying to be kind. I am learning to look for joy in the world and to share that, in part, through writing. I try to enjoy the thrill of rounding a mark heading for the finish - the spray of water splashing my feet. I am taking the time to sit in the sun and watch it set - postponing dinner or work. I am learning to be happy. Each day is a precious gift filled with joy and passion and simplicity.
I remember an old drunk that used to hang out on the docks at Yacht Haven in St. Thomas in the 80's. One day I sat down next to him. We dangled our feet in the water. I asked him how he could just sit on this dock, day after day, looking into the water? He looked me straight in the eye and stated quite simply, "Look at the day, Nancy. Just look at the day." So now at the start of this new year, century and millennium, I remember the words of an old "rummy" with no place to go, nothing to do, nowhere to be and without a dollar in his pocket. Look at the day, dear readers, look at today. My wish for you is that you'll never be disenchanted.

Millennium Musings
By - Nancy Terrell

The holiday decorations are put away. The holidays have come and gone. I sit at my computer mentally replaying the entire hub-bub event. As a writer I deal with people, yachting and feature stories in the Caribbean. What others call "a fantasy life" is a real life to me. However, I try never to confuse my life with my work. My work is what I do. My life is what I live.
Before my father died, while he was bedridden with cancer in an American hospital, we had long talks about life. As I sit here this morning reflecting on what a new year, a new century and a new millennium will bring I reminisce on his musings of more than thirty years ago. I was a teacher with high hopes when he reminded me that thousands of people in the world shared my degree and profession, adding that although there were many people working as I worked, I was the only one alive who had total custody of my life.
As he lay dying he made sure that I understood that my life was just that - it was a life, an entire life, that belonged to me - only to me. He wasn't talking about my life as a teacher or later as a journalist. Nor was he speaking of my life as a sailor, mother, wife or lover. He was talking about the life of my heart - not the life of my intellect, but about the life of my soul.
  We sailors don't talk about soul much anymore. We realize that it is difficult to mold the spirit. But our spirit is, in the end, who and what we are. Our lives are about more than bigger boats and paychecks. We concern ourselves with simple everyday things that bring pleasure - watching the Caribbean sun at dawn as it turns from bright orange to yellow lighting up an already warm sky or the swirls and glides of a hungry pelican as he dives into the water for his morning's catch.
My father reminded me to lead a life in which I am not alone. "Find people you love, and who love you, and remember that love is not leisure, it is work! Learn to appreciate your connection with others by picking up the phone or writing a letter. (Now, of course I can send e-mail.) Hug an older friend after I am gone and spend more time in your garden enjoying the flowers, not simply tending to them."
He told me to remember the moon's phases and rejoice in its beauty. He was telling me that life is the best thing I have and that I have no business in taking it for granted. And so I look at this opportunity of "a new time" and I vow to find the goodness in life and learn to spread it around, like peanut butter on my morning toast.
As the writer Anna Quindlen says, "We all want to do well in life but if we do not do good, too, then doing well will never be enough." It is so easy to waste our lives: our days, our hours, our minutes. It is so easy to take for granted the color of the bright hibiscus, the sheen of the Caribbean Sea on a warm clear day, the brilliance of the tropical fish that we see while snorkeling, the sounds of pan vibes as played by our local bands. It is so easy to exist instead of live.
My father also told me to love the journey, not the destination. Years later, as my only sibling died of AIDS, I learned that life is indeed not a dress rehearsal; it is the real thing. Today is the only guarantee we get. I am trying to be kind. I am learning to look for joy in the world and to share that, in part, through writing. I try to enjoy the thrill of rounding a mark heading for the finish - the spray of water splashing my feet. I am taking the time to sit in the sun and watch it set - postponing dinner or work. I am learning to be happy. Each day is a precious gift filled with joy and passion and simplicity.
I remember an old drunk that used to hang out on the docks at Yacht Haven in St. Thomas in the 80's. One day I sat down next to him. We dangled our feet in the water. I asked him how he could just sit on this dock, day after day, looking into the water? He looked me straight in the eye and stated quite simply, "Look at the day, Nancy. Just look at the day." So now at the start of this new year, century and millennium, I remember the words of an old "rummy" with no place to go, nothing to do, nowhere to be and without a dollar in his pocket. Look at the day, dear readers, look at today. My wish for you is that you'll never be disenchanted.

Millennium Musings
By - Nancy Terrell

The holiday decorations are put away. The holidays have come and gone. I sit at my computer mentally replaying the entire hub-bub event. As a writer I deal with people, yachting and feature stories in the Caribbean. What others call "a fantasy life" is a real life to me. However, I try never to confuse my life with my work. My work is what I do. My life is what I live.
Before my father died, while he was bedridden with cancer in an American hospital, we had long talks about life. As I sit here this morning reflecting on what a new year, a new century and a new millennium will bring I reminisce on his musings of more than thirty years ago. I was a teacher with high hopes when he reminded me that thousands of people in the world shared my degree and profession, adding that although there were many people working as I worked, I was the only one alive who had total custody of my life.
As he lay dying he made sure that I understood that my life was just that - it was a life, an entire life, that belonged to me - only to me. He wasn't talking about my life as a teacher or later as a journalist. Nor was he speaking of my life as a sailor, mother, wife or lover. He was talking about the life of my heart - not the life of my intellect, but about the life of my soul.
  We sailors don't talk about soul much anymore. We realize that it is difficult to mold the spirit. But our spirit is, in the end, who and what we are. Our lives are about more than bigger boats and paychecks. We concern ourselves with simple everyday things that bring pleasure - watching the Caribbean sun at dawn as it turns from bright orange to yellow lighting up an already warm sky or the swirls and glides of a hungry pelican as he dives into the water for his morning's catch.
My father reminded me to lead a life in which I am not alone. "Find people you love, and who love you, and remember that love is not leisure, it is work! Learn to appreciate your connection with others by picking up the phone or writing a letter. (Now, of course I can send e-mail.) Hug an older friend after I am gone and spend more time in your garden enjoying the flowers, not simply tending to them."
He told me to remember the moon's phases and rejoice in its beauty. He was telling me that life is the best thing I have and that I have no business in taking it for granted. And so I look at this opportunity of "a new time" and I vow to find the goodness in life and learn to spread it around, like peanut butter on my morning toast.
As the writer Anna Quindlen says, "We all want to do well in life but if we do not do good, too, then doing well will never be enough." It is so easy to waste our lives: our days, our hours, our minutes. It is so easy to take for granted the color of the bright hibiscus, the sheen of the Caribbean Sea on a warm clear day, the brilliance of the tropical fish that we see while snorkeling, the sounds of pan vibes as played by our local bands. It is so easy to exist instead of live.
My father also told me to love the journey, not the destination. Years later, as my only sibling died of AIDS, I learned that life is indeed not a dress rehearsal; it is the real thing. Today is the only guarantee we get. I am trying to be kind. I am learning to look for joy in the world and to share that, in part, through writing. I try to enjoy the thrill of rounding a mark heading for the finish - the spray of water splashing my feet. I am taking the time to sit in the sun and watch it set - postponing dinner or work. I am learning to be happy. Each day is a precious gift filled with joy and passion and simplicity.
I remember an old drunk that used to hang out on the docks at Yacht Haven in St. Thomas in the 80's. One day I sat down next to him. We dangled our feet in the water. I asked him how he could just sit on this dock, day after day, looking into the water? He looked me straight in the eye and stated quite simply, "Look at the day, Nancy. Just look at the day." So now at the start of this new year, century and millennium, I remember the words of an old "rummy" with no place to go, nothing to do, nowhere to be and without a dollar in his pocket. Look at the day, dear readers, look at today. My wish for you is that you'll never be disenchanted.

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