Newport - Day 1

Thursday 7/18/19 - Welcome back, friends!  Or perhaps you’re new.  Welcome!  In between those smutty summer novels, forced on you by your book club, enjoy a passage on the high seas.  If you’re really at odds with human interaction, go back in the archives of the blog and take a passage with me.  But for now, let another journey begin...
 
It’s Friday evening, 10pm Eastern time, July 19th.  I’m sitting at the navigation table, raised a few feet above the rest of the salon of “Perfect Summer”, the 49-foot Juneau that will escort our family of 6 from Newport Rhode Island to Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket (and back, we hope) over the following 6 days.  The kids, Avery (now 16) excluded, are all asleep in their respective bunks.  Charley and Nora are snuggled in the Starboard (right) Aft (back of the boat) cabin, while little Ruby Tuesday is sleeping in the Port (left) Aft bedroom.  Avery will join her when she’s done with whatever teenagers do on a boat at anchor.  Tara just finished showering in the forward head, located in our bedroom, which I can’t possibly refer to as the “stabbin cabin” ...this is a family trip after all.

If you’re new to this blog, or have never kept a journal, you may not be aware of what the mind recalls a day or two later from a new adventure, or a mundane Monday.  Knowing you will later reflect on the experience, you become high-noticing of many things you would otherwise smile at and forget as quickly as they appeared.  In anticipation of these entries, I mentally noted a handful of moments from the start of our family “trip” yesterday (Vacation is without kids).
 
The trip to the airport is not noteworthy other than mentioning that we made it to our gate on time, with little trouble, which is completely noteworthy given the nightmare of escorting 3 children under 8 who fight with each other for sport, 4 duffel bags nearly tipping the limit, 6 backpacks, a car seat, and a 4-foot canvas tube with offshore fishing gear.  Why we have not hired a Sherpa for our family is inexcusable.
 
We flew through Minneapolis en route to Providence, Rhode Island, and had an hour to enjoy in the Hubert Humphrey terminal.  Fate was smiling.  We were hungry and between our gate and the connection, a mere 3 gates away, was a Starbucks and the Minnesota Wild bar.  Paying homage to the hometown heroes of every Minnesota hockey fan was a bar that offered fried walleye, NHL paraphernalia, and free bubble hockey.  We took pictures with Ryan Suter’s jersey, whose father coached me as a kid, followed by the girls’ first game of bubble hockey.  With Nora’s help, I took on Charley and Ruby for 20 minutes and beat the snot out of the them.  Ignoring that their goalie couldn’t move, they had no idea how to play, and I drew on the years of experience I had behind a rod-hockey game, it was a fair match.
 
Unfortunately, our food arrived, as did our connection, and I had to leave my childhood in its wake.  Perhaps a bubble hockey game for our new basement is not a bad idea...
 
We arrived in a very rainy Providence Rhode Island at 5:30, caught an Uber to Newport, and spent the next 45 minutes driving under the speed limit with a cautious man from Cameroon, certainly accustomed to monsoon season.  I’m grateful he was so protective of the precious cargo, but I’ve sailed faster.  As we crossed the large suspension bridge connecting the continental US to the smaller island on which Newport sits, we passed a very old cemetery to which Charley commented on the large “t’s” that were sprinkled among the gravestones.  Awe, my Jewish daughters - perhaps there will be time on the boat to explain Christianity and all her symbolism.
 
We pulled up to a quaint and very chic hotel on the water, appropriately named 41 (degrees) north, the latitude of Newport.  They whisked us up to a room that would have been cozy for Tara and I with luggage for a weekend.  We realized that saving a few dollars by cramming six into a room for the night was likely a mistake.  We splashed through puddles along the Newport waterfront to dinner, had our first bowl of clam chowder, and all hit a wall.  It was a long, if successful day of travel, ending with a deep slumber in a crowded room with the five girls I love most, who I was tired of, already.  Well, perhaps just the toddlers.  Tomorrow, we get on the boat - a more confined space for an entire week...perhaps another lapse in judgement...