Sock burning at the start of the sailing season has become “a thing” amongst sailing clubs across the country. It is a celebration of Springtime. The ability to go barefoot is the excuse for the festivities , and an illustration of busting out of the confines of winter. Such exuberance inspires poetry, so that is part of it as well.
You will notice the mention of the tornado and the importance of friendships as themes in many of the poems as well as sailing of course. Poems were recited as socks were tossed into our magical smokeless, heatless “fire” (it was a very hot day so we nixed having a fire).
THE POEMS:
“Do re mi fa so Tornado!”
Grab the kids, run down the stair
Into the basement not a second to spare!
Come up for air overwhelmed by destruction
So many days now doing reconstruction
Grateful for help from so many friends
To clean up the effects of the tornado’s winds
When its racing day I like a strong wind
So pick up your glasses for a toast my friends
To a crazy night, to wind and fright
To love and care from those gathered here
Smooth sailing ahead, rough waters behind
Raise up your sails its racing time
- John G.*********
Embrace the minute
So thankful to be here now
The best place on earth
- Laura G.(Haiku)
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There are good ships and wood ships and ships that sail the sea.
But the best ships are friendships and may they always be!
- Tom and Sarah C.
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On Grandview Lake, the breezes play,
White sails unfurl in bright array.
With friends beside, we chase the wind,
Each tack and jibe, our fun is pinned.
The sunlight dances on the waves,
We race as one, no boats to save.
Amazing people, and spirits free—
A sailor’s joy, our Sunday spree.
- Dianne F.
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Grandview sailing club
Sailing camp is fun at Geist
Excited to sail here soon
- Lily G. (Haiku)
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Who would have guessed that a sailboat could fly?
Perhaps that’s why Tom’s boat was named the “JY”
The winds picked it up and it caught in a tree.
After the storm passed, Tom’s face had no glee.
The hull it was cracked, the mast broke in three.
Since Tom can’t sail it, a crew man he’ll be.- JHS
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Our sailing season is a go!
And every sailor must know,
Win or lose, don’t pout,
We’d not enjoy without
Surviving Grandview’s tornado!
- Matt B. (Limerick)
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Summertime at Grandview with quite a lot to do.
The mowing, the painting, sprucing up the house,
Oh and don’t forget there’s sailing too!
Get out the sails, clean off the vests.
Its time to prove who’s the best
It really doesn’t matter when all is said and done
‘cause we love to sail and its lots of fun!
- Arlene T.
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There once was a sailor named Bob
Others lost races to him with a sob.
He graduated to the Committee Boat
And helped set race marker floats
In all things he did a tremendous job
- Margaret P. (about Bob Orben)
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Tornado was fierce
But did not dampen desire
To play in the wind
- Lisa D. (Haiku)
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"Ode to the JY-15"
With a hull like a recliner, I’d sail really chill—
Feet up on the gunwale, not a care, not an ill.
With a "V" to slice wakes and a bottom quite round,
She wobbled like tipsy old sailors I've found.
New crew would freeze, gripping gunwale in fright,
“Don’t worry,” I’d grin, “She feels wrong, but she’s right.”
We could hike her out hard, take in water galore—
It drained out the stern—that’s what scuppers are for.
Dave Brown first owned her, that skilled trophy-taker.
Wayne Truex brokered the deal, that enthusiastic matchmaker.
“Trust me,” he said, “This one’s for you.”
And just like he said, it turned out to be true.
Catey and Jim gave trimming advice:
“Shift your weight, tighten the sheet—now doesn’t she slice?”
She took newcomers, green sailors, even racing vets aboard,
Got them hooked, got them racing, like so many before.
And then...."The Wreck of the JY-15"
But then came the storm with a twist in its tail—
A tree downing, house-wrecking, boat-flinging gale!
It was quick, and quite awful, with drama to spare,
Snapping her mast as she flew through the air.
With a hull-cracking downdraft she was slammed to the ground—
Between two fallen trees the wrecked JY-15 was found.
Kevin Bishop, bless his soul volunteered a last chore, he took her to her resting place where she would sail the lake no more.
To this Grandview sailor she was a boat with no peer—
To capsizes laughed at, and friends who’ve become dear.
A sailor’s recliner, a club gateway, a glistener—
That could ride any wind except that ‘25 twister.
- Tom S.
