Sailing is an art, filled with as much beauty and requiring as much skill as any other art form. The skilled sailor becomes almost one with his craft,...a certain learned familiarity, like long-time lovers. It seemed to have its own rewards, a level of tranquility rarely found elsewhere, which I was quickly learning to appreciate. As time passed, the conversation seemed to flow far better. Nancy in particular seemed to be more at ease, and Mike was his usual talkative self. It didn’t hurt that my. I wish she would be more accepting of what I was doing, butI could see her point of view too. I was her son and Dad's too, eventhough he couldn't remember me as Mark. We were a happy family, and Dadwas a loving husband and father who adored his son, a mother who thoughtshe had the prettiest boy ever for a son, and me, a well adjusted boy,who was being taught how to be a real man, by a man who knew how to treatpeople with respect, no matter how they lived their lives. He taught meto avoid a. More

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