safe harbour

Safe Harbour, for my out-of-town readers, is a real place.
It's a deep water marina and floats beside what's left of the shrimp boat fleet and the Hogfish bar & grill out on the Atlantic side of Stock Island.
It's a peaceful, easy place.

This floating house is out there. I like it and have spent probably too much time imagining how I might
make it mine.



But it's not the place, Safe Harbour, but the concept of "safe harbour" that I wanted to think about today.
To my mind,"safe harbour" is a transient kind of illusion.

You, like me, have good friends, a comfy place to live with all the bills current and a few extra bucks stashed away and, we think, "all is well with the world".
And it is, for the moment, but there's always a storm just over the horizon. Then, in a New York minute. . .

It's like the song suggests,
"safety's just danger . . .out of place".*

* "Honestly Now", Harry Connick, Jr.

working man blues

Even in paradise, everyone has to pull their weight. . .

It's a big job just gettin' by with nine kids and a wife,
I've been a workin' man dang near all my life.
But I'll keep on working,
long as my two hands are fit to use.
I'll drink a little beer in the evening
and sing a little bit of these working man blues.

I keep my nose on the grindstone,

I work hard every day.
Might get a little tired on the weekend,
after I draw my pay.
But I'll keep on workin'
and come Monday I'll be right back with the crew.
I'll drink a little beer in the evening
and sing a little bit of these working man blues.

Sometimes I think about leaving,
do a little bummin' around.
Throw my bills out the window
and catch a train to another town.
But I just keep on workin',
I gotta buy those kids a brand new pair of shoes.
And yeah I'll drink a little beer in the evening,
and sing a little bit of these working man blues.

Hey hey, the working man, the working man like me
I ain't never been on welfare
that's one place I won't be.
Cause I'll just keep on workin'
long as my two hands are fit to use.
I'll drink a little beer in the evening
and sing a little bit of these working man blues.

"Working Man Blues" is a tune by Merle Haggard.
Given all the construction workers working next door that I've met over the past 6 months and my recently out of work state of being, it just seemed right.

Click the link below if you care to hear the real thing.
WORKING MAN BLUES

who's in the details?

Some folks say, "the Devil is in the details".

Other folks say, "God is in the details".

The real deal is, it's just us; here and now,
alive in the moment.

What we think and how we choose to live is who we are.

"We are in the details".

There's no demon or deity about it.

hercules & tilly

Ever since I was a kid, I've always had a thing for TugBoats.

Hercules

The first one I ever saw was in a painting my mother was doing of New York Harbor in the corner of our living room she called her studio on 61st St. in the Glendale section of Queens.

In whatever language my 5 year old brain was speaking, today's translation would be, "that is too cool!!"

I know TugBoats aren't sleek or fast and I never much cared that they're the "workhorses of the waterways".
I've just always thought they looked so cool and seeing them has, somehow, always felt like home.
(something from a previous life?)

The first time I saw a TugBoat up-close and underway, was 100 years later when my 2nd ex-wife and I were on the Staten Island Ferry heading back to the city. A Tug came up along the port side and it was so close I could see the whites of the deck-hand's eyes.

Tilly

I couldn't, in a million years, remember what she and I were talking about at the time but I can remember the rumble from the power of the Tug's diesels, how low she drove into the water and the wake she kicked up at her bow and stern rocked the ferry.
Again, my first thought; "that is too cool!!" and that was followed by, "I want one!"

Of course, at that time, I was knee deep in my corporate career, had the "house on the hill" (so to speak) and all the crap that went with it. So a TugBoat just wasn't in the cards.

But now, all these years later, calmed down and settled in my semi-retired stupor on the Keys, I have to admit, Hercules and Tilly have got me thinkin'. . .

shrimp boats - part 2

The boats are as tough and as crusty as their crews.

On the open ocean they trawl day after day with their huge nets deployed from the booms extended over the sides of the boats.

I don't know how much of a catch is a good catch but even on less profitable trips I'm guessing they count the catch by the ton.

With all the heavy machinery bolted to the decks and grinding away on a rolling tide, it's not unusual to hear local radio report another shrimper losing a body part or even his life.

I only spoke to a handful of them but, based on those conversations, the shrimpers seem to be a bit detached but very direct men of few words. From my perspective, it seems like a rough way to make a living. From their perspective, it's a way of life.

shrimp boats - part 1

Stock Island, the next island north of Key West, is the industrial business end of the city. I got out there, not too long ago, to shoot the shrimpers.

This is what Key West looked like 30 or so years ago before the tourist economy kicked in, a pretty rough waterfront fishing town.

The shrimpers themselves are weathered old salts and, I'm told, They go out for days or a week at a time to do some really hard work.

When they get back to port , it figures they'd be sunburned, thirsty and pretty randy. (God knows, I would be. . .)

So after they've cashed-in their catches, I imagine them all heading into town where it's mostly every man for himself and hide the women!