Tuffy Tug
early dreams, early childhood
Dr. James Sanders, editor of Gaff Rig
Continued
I was born near water. Our home was a small town on
the shores of Lake Michigan. Whiting, Indiana may have been a steel mill town,
but Whiting was a picturesque town, the kind you might see in a Norman Rockwell
painting. I well remember the cold waters of Lake Michigan, and I remember the
park near those waters. For a small child, everything is large, and the Whiting
park seemed to go on forever. It was a wonderful place with a high hill and a
white bridge. There were painted benches on the top of the hill, and from those
lofty heights, I could climb up on the bench and look out on the vast blue
waters of the lake. On Top of Ole’ Smokey was a popular song. Once while
our family was riding in a car, I asked my mother what a mountain was. She
explained it was similar to the hill in our park. From that time on, whenever
my short legs would climb the hill in Whiting Park, I stood on top of Old
Smokey.
I was around three or four when my uncle built a
sailboat. He was the first boat builder in our family (and until I began
building my own boat, he was the only boat builder in our family.) I never got
the chance to ride on his boat. You had to be able to swim to do that, and I
had enough trouble walking. At the time, I could easily walk under our kitchen
table. My uncle and another relative launched his new boat in a nearby placid
lake. It took them a few beers, but they managed to get out on the lake. One of
them fell off, but no one drowned. My uncle’s sailboat was a marvel to my
childhood eyes. I thought that one day— maybe I could build such a boat
as well.
I liked building things. My father had given me a
set of Tinker Toys for Christmas. You could build all kind of things with
Tinker Toys, nothing very useful, but I enjoyed working with the wood and
displaying my new projects to my mother. She seemed quite interested, or so I
thought.
My prize possession, though, was not a toy hammer,
or even Tinker Toys. It was a book. I could not read, but I could look at the
pictures. Sometimes my mother would read me the story, and then, I would
practice reading the story back to her. Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel was
my first book, and what a book it was. The steam shovel could smile and even
had feelings. In a nearby sand lot, I often dug at the dirt with an old spoon
my mother had given me. If I only had a steam shovel like Mike
Mulligan’s, I could really smooth the dirt and dig a hole big enough to
stand in.
My favorite book, though, was the one about a boat,
a tugboat named Scuffy. I really loved this book. For those of us who may not
be well read, Scuffy the Tugboat is the story of a child’s small boat and
the adventures the boat encounters on its way to the ocean. One picture in the
book that really alarmed me was the night scene, complete with an owl. Perhaps,
it was this story (and my uncle’s adventure) that gave me the love of
boats. Instinctively, I knew someday I would build a boat.
Years past and I became a young boy. We moved to
Florida. Again, we lived in another small town, and again we lived near water.
There was not much to do in Pace, Florida, but by this time I had heard of the
story of Tom Sawyer. I was quite surprised to learn that someone else had lived
a similar life to mine. My best friend was Chipper Barbas, and as two
bare-footed boys in jeans with rolled-cuffs, we explored the creek and nearby
woods, looking for adventure. We even built a tugboat . . . well, almost.
Chipper and I found a pine board, and we cut and
filed the wood into the shape of a Scuffy tugboat. We even painted our little
boat, and then put it out to sea in a large washtub. Our mouths dropped open
when we saw our boat turn on its side. We had only cut the profile of tugboat
in a plank, and try as we could, we could never make our plank tugboat stay
upright in the water. We shook our heads in disappointment, and went
fishing.
I still have the notion of a tugboat in the back of
my mind. In fact, just the other day, I ran across a worthy successor to Scuffy
tugboat. In a book called Wooden Toys, I found the tugboat I had wanted to build as a child! It was
perfect, a toy that any child would be proud to own and proud to launch.
I immediately thought of a grandson in Florida who
might treasure such a wooden toy. In fact, I think, I ‘ll build the toy
tugboat I had always wanted and just send it to him. He’s too little to
talk right now, but in my heart of hearts, I know he will love having a tugboat
all his own. Nothing makes bath time better than having a wooden tugboat all
your own.
I looked around further and to my surprise, there
are larger tugboats you can build, large enough even for a father (or
grandfather) to accompany a child on a lake adventure. In fact, the Glen-L
folks have a little
boat they call Tubby Tug. I keep looking at photos of what other people have
built, and I keep thinking of a grandson in Florida. Put a small trolling motor
on that tugboat, and that would just be about perfect. It’s a nice size
boat, too— 9 feet over all, and 4' 8" beam.
I searched a bit more, and to my amazement, found a
period boat, a larger tugboat. (I suspect that someone at Glen-L must have read
the same child’s book I had read.) This tugboat even has sleeping
quarters and a galley. The Glen-L folks call her Bo-Jest . She approaches an 18
foot waterline and 8 foot beam. Maybe once I finish building my sailboat, I
might . . .
Wait, wait. How did I ever get off the subject of
tugboats and the like? I think it must be in the recesses of my childhood. This
whole notion of building a boat has been with me for a long time. Some day I
may build a tugboat, but for now my heart and dreams belong to a period
sailboat I have been working on for these last two years.
"Never leave a job until it is finished",
my father would say. I have no regrets in having started to build a boat. I do
wish, though, I could have started it sooner. I think my uncle would have liked
my sailboat. I think he would have. My aunt has promised to sail with me when
the boat is finished. I have promised to keep her to her word.
P.S. Barry,
I may give the little tugboat a try even before I finish the sailboat. . .
Best regards,
Dr. Jim
Dr. James is the editor of Gaff Rig, at www.byyb.org.
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