Acknowledgements

“I never lose. I win or I learn.” – Nelson Mandela

I have many thanks to give for the completion of this portfolio and course. First, I

would like to thank my family at my home away from home, Camp Sea Gull. Camp

Sea Gull provided endless sources of inspiration and opportunities that I thoroughly

enjoyed sharing. The people at Camp have given me more than I could possibly give

them. I have learned so much about who I am as a person and how to become better

by bettering others. I owe who I am today and the stories included in this work to

those amazing people and that blessed place.

Secondly, I would like to thank Dr. Lowell Frye. Dr. Frye has put up with my

crap for over three years now and is one of the more influential professors I have

ever had the blessing to learn under. His genuine care for his students, not only as

academics, but as people, has inspired me to put forth my best effort and continue to

try to get better. I owe him many more thanks for writing a letter of

recommendation for my trip to Barcelona, Spain. That trip abroad changed my life in

so many indescribable ways and inspired me endlessly. I would not have had that

opportunity without Dr. Frye. Thank you.

Last but not least, I would like to thank my group in class, Benny Baranik and

Graves Anthony. We had many great discussions about our essays, but more

importantly, got to know one another in a deeper context. Many of the topics that

we wrote about are tough to talk about in every day conversation. Benny and Graves

not only helped me become a better writer through their constructive criticism, but

opened up in a way that helped develop friendship.

Table of Contents:

Acknowledgements:…………………………………………………………………………………………….. Pg. I

Table of Contents:………………………………………………………………………………………………. Pg. II

Pinehurst: The Anti-Community: ………………………………………………………………………Pg. 1-6

Can Kids Just be Kids?: ……………………………………………………………………………………Pg. 7-17

Time To Wake Up: ……………………………………………………………………………………….Pg. 17-21

Sailing Is Courage: ……………………………………………………………………………………….Pg. 21-30

Edward: ………………………………………………………………………………………………………Pg. 31-38

Reflection on the Semester: ………………………………………………………………………….Pg. 39-41

Pinehurst, the Anti-Community

“Wake up,” Mom gently shook me awake as I felt the car slow to a stop. I opened my

eyes to my first glimpse of a new chapter of my life. Twelve years old, tanned and

exhausted from my yearly summer at camp, I stretched, rubbed my eyes, and

scanned the outside of my new home-Nine Ruby Lane in Pinehurst, North Carolina-a

small brick cookie-cutter house with a one-car garage on a cul-de-sac. The front

yard was covered in a thin grass with sandy patches, infamously common in an area

of North Carolina that is aptly named “The Sandhills.” I knew nothing of Pinehurst

except that my aunt and uncle lived there and that there were a few golf courses

here and there. We had just moved from Greensboro, North Carolina, where I lived

down the street from my two best friends, could ride my bike to school, and enjoyed

being a kid. As the oldest of three siblings, I tried to stay as positive as possible when

we were told the news of the move. I wanted to show that my brother and sister

could be happy in a new place and meet new friends. Turns out that I would be the

one having trouble settling in.

My parents told me that Pinehurst was the golf capital of the United States.

They said that there was a lot of tourism and that the Pinehurst Resort was famous

for hosting events like the 2005 U.S. Open on the famous Pinehurst #2 course, an

event that had occurred the summer before I moved there. “People vacation here?” I

asked myself, as I took a skeptical look around. In all the pictures, Pinehurst appears

to be a lush green vacation utopia with all the comforts of a small Southern village. A

famous golf course, shopping, world-class hospitality, and bars all seem like

somewhere worth visiting. Pinehurst is a beautiful place, an evergreen village,

whose plentiful golf courses are lined with cottages that radiate a sense of

relaxation. What the slightly drunk golfers and the liberally credit-card-swiping

spouses don’t show is everyday life in Pinehurst for young people. Pinehurst is a

very safe place. In fact, the cops get so bored that I once had three police cars show

up to see what was going on when I got in a fender bender. There’s got to be

something for these police to do. There are only eight violent crimes and 125

property crimes per year in the peaceful village. The chances of becoming a victim of

crime in Pinehurst are one in 1907.

However, Pinehurst is a place where it is very easy for a young person to get

in trouble. There is not much room for a kid to run around and be a kid. When I was

thirteen, I was at an overnight Boy Scout meeting playing football with friends while

we were in our full uniforms in the back yard of our scout hut. A bad throw led to

the ball bouncing over the fence to the neighbor’s yard. The neighbor was a skinny,

wrinkly old lady who smoked like a chimney. She was sitting on her back porch

watching us play football with a suspicious glare that disturbed us when we first

saw her.

When I lived in Greensboro, we were free to go into other people’s yards to

collect lost toys or use it as the occasional short cut, so I was perfectly comfortable

volunteering to jump the fence to get the ball. I waved to the old lady and scaled the

fence, grabbed the ball, and as I was halfway back over, heard a sharp whistle. The

old lady whistled at me, made a “get out” gesture, and simply shook her head with

an angry scowl. I didn’t give it two seconds of worry, thinking, “What could she

possibly be mad at? I was just grabbing our ball.” That was the last of it…or so I

thought…

About an hour later, when we had regrouped and were in the middle of a

team-building exercise, we heard a knock on the front door. Tap, tap, tap, “Police.”

We all looked at each other, confused. The scoutmaster answered the door and let

the officers in. They told us that our next-door neighbor had called them because

someone had trespassed on her property. They were able to use her description to

identify me. I was forced to give my information to the police so that they could

make a report, just to tell me, “Don’t do it again.” Our little golf town had focused so

much on comfort that it had made it uneasy to simply be a kid.

Pinehurst, built to be a “health resort for people of modest means,” was

originally built in 1895, and the first golf course was built on the Pinehurst Resort

two years later (Pinehurst, North Carolina). The resort was and still is the main

attraction for the tourist-centered economy. Yet people love to meander along

Downtown Pinehurst through the little shops for trinkets and to drink at the

Jefferson Inn whenever they get back from a round of golf as well. Pinehurst has

developed a reputation for its focus on comfort, which many of the businesses

capitalize on. Some businesses do this by incorporating the name “Pinehurst” in the

title of their company. One of my favorite burger joints, “Pinehurst Café,” is a little

hole-in-the-wall restaurant that serves a killer patty melt. Pinehurst Café, like many

other businesses, applies the strategy of using the name Pinehurst to add to the

feeling of coziness that comes with the reputation of the village. Yet, what hides

under the mask of southern comfort is an intimidating face.

In 1999, Pinehurst village officials sued the Pinehurst Resort over the right to

use the name Pinehurst in its businesses (“1999: Village Sues Pinehurst Inc. Over

Name”). The resort had intimidated a local interior decorator and assisted living

center into dropping “Pinehurst” from the name of the business, infuriating local

officials, who argued that Pinehurst was the name of the village, not a label that

could be trademarked. The village won its case, forcing the resort to refrain from

challenging any business if it is not a direct competitor – a rival golf course. This is

the behavior one would expect out of a business in New York or another high-stakes

city, not a small Southern village built on the premise of hospitality and comfort.

It’s a sense of community that is missing. Very rare are events like Downtown

Southern Pine’s “First Friday,” a block party that the town throws on the first Friday

of every summer month. I can’t remember the last neighborhood get-together or

neighbor that went out of his or her way to talk to us. Although many of my

neighbors are elderly and have lived in Pinehurst for a reasonably long time, many

of them were not born and raised there (including me). We live in Pinehurst and it is

our community, but it is not our home. Not growing up in a community takes away

from much of the pride that comes with living there. All these retirees and military

families that occupy Pinehurst can’t buy into the community because they have to

assimilate and adjust to a new area and different people. A town full of people

having to adjust can only bring hostility and nervousness. You do not see an old lady

calling the cops on a kid in his Boy Scout uniform trying to get his football back in

communities where families have grown up and lived there from the beginning.

Until Pinehurst can realize the importance of continuity in the family aspect of

community, the village will never become a wholesome community. Unfortunately,

because of the village’s commitment to luxury, tourism, and its resort, this will likely

never happen.

It’s not like Pinehurst has intentionally drove the sense of community away.

Gated communities have played a large part in the privatization of the Sandhills.

According to McDevitt Town and Country Real Estate, there are at least eight private

gated communities in Pinehurst and neighboring town, Southern Pines ("Pinehurst

Golf Real Estate & Homes."). Most of these include golf courses and special perks for

residents. Gated communities are growing quickly in demand, “reflected in an

increasing fear of crime that is unrelated to actual crime trends or locations”

(Blakely, Edward J., and Mary Gail Snyder). With the added luxury of a resort town

and golf courses designed by the likes of golf legends Jack Nicklaus and Gary Player,

people come in droves to purchase the expensive properties that run from $300,000

to millions of dollars. Residents look to live in these gated communities for the

added security and private lifestyle that it offers. Often, these communities come

with strict regulations that control how a house may look and other aspects that are

not normally controlled. The goal for these residents is to separate themselves from

the outside, to border off the people that the residents do not seem fit to associate

with. These homes are not solely for permanent residents. Many use them as

vacation homes, further separating them from the community by not being present

many months out of the year. It’s difficult to develop a sense of community around

one that is built off fear and privatization. When there are eight large, private

communities that do not want to do with any of the other seven or outside

communities, the sense of togetherness dissolves as more people associate with the

gated community than the town. For example, when I ask many of my high school

friends where they would say they’re from, many say “National Golf Club” or

“Pinewild Country Club” rather than “Pinehurst” or “Southern Pines.”

Once association transfers from the town to the communities, the real

comfort of a neighborhood leaves with it. Here’s to the chance that Pinehurst can

figure out how to balance the amazing economic asset they have in the world class

golf resorts while developing a community that appreciates and values longevity

and hospitality. Because right now Pinehurst is a resort, not a home.

Works Cited:

Blakely, Edward J., and Mary Gail Snyder. "Fortress America." NYTimes.com. The New York

Times, n.d. Web. <https://www.nytimes.com/books/first/b/blakely-fortress.html>.

"Crime Rates for Pinehurst, NC." Pinehurst NC 28374 Crime Rates and Crime Statistics. N.p.,

n.d. Web. 09 Nov. 2015.

<http://www.neighborhoodscout.com/nc/pinehurst/crime/>.

"1999: Village Sues Pinehurst Inc. over Name." Golfweek.com. Associated Press, n.d. Web.

09 Nov. 2015. <http://golfweek.com/news/1999/nov/30/1999-village-sues-

pinehurst-inc-over-name/?print>.

"Pinehurst Golf Real Estate & Homes." Pinehurst Golf Real Estate & Homes. N.p., n.d. Web.

10 Dec. 2015. <http://www.mcdevitttownandcountry.com/pinehurst-gated.html>.

"Pinehurst, North Carolina." Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, n.d. Web. 09 Nov. 2015.

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pinehurst,_North_Carolina>.

Can Kids just be Kids?

Wyatt Taylor, General Secretary of the Raleigh YMCA, stood at the gate on an already

hot June morning, waiting to let to the inaugural group of campers into Camp Sea

Gull, a YMCA camp for boys in Arapahoe, North Carolina. The year was 1948 and

parents and their children were lined up in anticipation of the summer. The kids

couldn’t wait for what was in store that summer, and the counselors couldn’t wait to

see the impact they would have on those kids’ lives. They had no idea that their

camp was going to create an extensive spider web connecting lifelong best friends,

opportunity, and character development.

After years of scouting out potential locations for the camp on the eastern

coast of North Carolina, Wyatt (being called by your first name is a Camp Sea Gull

tradition) began searching on the Neuse River. The Neuse River is the largest river

in the state of North Carolina and opens right into the Atlantic Ocean. It is densely

populated with small eastern North Carolina towns such as Oriental and New Bern.

Wyatt came across an area upriver of Oriental on the ocean-side of the sharp bend

in the river that was blessed with a several distinguishing qualities. At this point on

the river, the diameter of the river is wide and deep enough to allow for powerboats

and large sailboats. It is wide enough so that the wind is strong and consistent

enough to instruct sailing at a high level. The site was located on the ocean-side of

the point, so a phenomenon that came to be called the “Sea Gull Bubble” occurs. The

geographical feature of the point causes many storms that appear in the area to

bend around the site at a safe distance, so the plot avoids many storms that would

otherwise hinder the camping experience.

In 1948, Wyatt convinced the YMCA Board of Directors that this humid,

undeveloped site on the Neuse River was the perfect location for his camp. With

$50,000 granted to him for development, Wyatt designed a camp to model military

barracks. The Mess Hall and flagpole face the water with two outreaching arms of

cabins to form a “V.” In front center, a pier outstretched its arm a quarter mile into

the Neuse River.

Chris Craft powerboats waited on the right side while Prams, a bathtub with

a sail, and Lightnings, a nineteen-foot-long racing sailboat, moored on the left for

some boy to learn to sail. Wyatt and his wife, Lil, worked with the YMCA to form this

nautical camp for boys partly because Wyatt believed that the kids needed an

opportunity to learn about the sea and boating; there were plenty of mountain

camps, but no camps on the coast. He wanted boys to be able to learn to sail,

motorboat, fish, and ski because he knew there were limited opportunities for those

who didn’t live by the ocean or a body of water. That’s what the kids came for. The

kids were in line to have the most fun summer of their lives; their parents were in

line for the same reason Wyatt founded the camp – “to put Christian principles into

practice through programs that help healthy spirit, mind, and body for all” (Our

Mission. Mission Statement, Cause-driven Organization).

Technology has made it increasingly difficult for parents to let their kids out

of their sight and for a kid to get away from the real world. There were no cell

phones, no iPads, no Internet to distract kids from playing or to serve as a medium

with which the media could saturate us with horror stories of child abductions and

other crimes. Parents trusted their children to go outside, play with friends, and

most importantly, make mistakes. Kids would run out the door in the mornings as

their parents called out “Be back for dinner!” Kids were allowed to go on adventures

around their town, get into trouble, and learn about life through experience. Parents

were less exposed to the high amount of up-to-date news about danger as they are

today.

Today, children face another danger. This danger is not a child abductor, but

something equally harmful. Smart phones, social networks, and other advanced

technology of today have not only caused parents to tighten the reins on supervision

of their children but have also trapped the playfulness and imagination of the kids.

Many children would now prefer to sit inside and play a videogame about football

rather than go outside and actually play football. According to the Wall Street

Journal, as of 2014, the number of children who play organized team sports is

declining faster than their respective population. The percentages of these kids aged

six through seventeen fell “by roughly four points from 2008 to 2012”. One of the

potential causes, while not the sole cause, that the Wall Street Journal associates

with is the outbreak of social media and video games. The athletic director of

Shawnee Mission North High School in Overland Park, Kansas, George Sallas, even

admitted, “kids are more trained now to stay at home and play video games”

(Wallerson, Ryan).

What kids are losing is a sense of adventure. Back in 1948, Wyatt Taylor

believed that Camp Sea Gull would allow boys to learn to develop character through

programs that were fun but allowed them to fail in a safe environment. By being

able to fail, the boys are able to learn more than if they are simply given the right to

drive the fastest motorboat or take out the largest sail boat. No body knows if Wyatt

anticipated the technological boom that would occur sixty years later, tying kids

down to their couches instead of being free to roam their world. Even if he didn’t,

his camp now provides that safe place to fail with an entire new aspect: the chance

to unplug and escape the outside world.

Children are so much more exposed to what is happening in the world than

they were even in the 1990’s. Fifty-six percent of children aged eight to twelve have

a cell phone. Ninety-one percent of teenagers have access to the Internet through a

cell phone (Kids Wireless Use Facts). Information is much more readily available to

children and teens today than it was even ten years ago. These kids need, now more

than ever, a place where the only thing they worry about is which activity to go to

next. Kids need a place to run around with their best friends that has positive male

role models to inspire them to do what’s right. Kids need a place where they can

discover what they’re passionate about and then learn to work hard to achieve goals

that they, not their parents, set for themselves. Kids need a place full of

encouragement where it is safe to fail, where they can learn from their mistakes

without being ostracized. Camp Sea Gull and many other camps around the United

States are providing this freedom to the kids. These kids need now more than ever a

place to find all these freedoms in order to develop into men that have character and

a work ethic that is disappearing in a world that is becoming more entitled and

embracing the “everybody wins” attitude. Camp is that place.

The summer of 2013, I worked as a sailing instructor at Camp Sea Gull I was

assigned Racing Fleet Captain. I was in charge of the maintenance of six 420’s, an

Olympic class racing boat that is 420 centimeters long (creative, right?), as well as

the organization of the 420 classes. I had five trainers whom I supervised, all of

whom taught the class for a week, and then brought the camper to me so that I could

test his competency. I tested his ability to roll tack, cleanly gybe, and fly spinnakers.

I tested the candidates on a racecourse to evaluate their racing knowledge and

skills. The campers who had the ability that I deemed satisfactory would earn the

rank, “420 Skipper,” an intermediate level in the sailing ranks. 420 Skippers were

better sailors than most campers, but not yet on the elite level. I had a lot of respect

for the rank, so I was a tough evaluator. I kept my trainers on a high standard as

well. I wanted the sailors that came through my program to really understand the

concepts that we taught and be able to consistently apply them on the water. I can

happily say that during my regime as Racing Fleet Captain, we had a record number

of campers pass the elite ranks of sailing after learning from my trainers and passing

my examination.

I had a particularly eye-opening experience that truly showed me the

positive effects that Camp has on these kids. A twelve-year-old, John Knight, had

blazed through the beginner sailing ranks and had taken 420 training. His trainer

gave him permission for me to test him and I could see the confidence glowing as he

beat upwind to the racecourse that I used to test campers. The test consisted of

completing two laps of an upwind-downwind racecourse simulating a real life race

situation, meaning the race had a committee boat, starting whistles, and the ability

to protest. This forced the camper to apply his racing knowledge to an actual course

with other campers. I liked to have more than one boat testing at the same time to

simulate a competitive atmosphere of a race. The course required that the skipper

perform roll tacks in order to reach the upwind marker and a gybe to get to the

downwind marker, all while obeying racing rules and etiquette. John approached

the starting line and took off right at the whistle – a great start – and glided expertly

through his roll tacks as he rounded the upwind marker. But he began to gybe, John

lost his balance and slipped, causing him to lose his momentum and fail his first

gybe attempt. It pained me to do so, but I had to fail him.

I called out to him from my Boston Whaler to give it another shot. This time

John had another great start, but as he beat upwind, his nerves began to grow and

confidence dwindled. I could see him peeking back at me to see if I saw that he

jumped too early on a roll tack. He failed to properly perform the maneuver that he

had just nailed on his first attempt. What had to be even more irritating for him is

that he performed a perfect, balanced, well-timed gybe on the downwind leg.

Unfortunately, it was getting late in the activity period and I had to call him in

without passing him. I never like to fail a camper without giving him a

comprehensive report on what he did well and how he could improve. I met with

John back on the pier and prepared to explain how he could improve. Before I could

start, John started bawling. “I can’t do this,” he cried. “I’ve tried so many times!” I

was caught off guard by how upset he was. I could tell how badly he wanted this

rank. He collapsed against a piling and covered his face. I sat next to him. “This isn’t

the end of the world,” I explained. “You have all the skills to pass this rank.” John

continued to doubt himself and shook off my support. I explained to him that he

successfully completed all the maneuvers necessary to pass; he just didn’t execute

them consistently enough for me to grant it a passing performance. I reaffirmed that

he had the talent to pass this rank and even advance into the elite ranks, but he

needed the confidence in himself to get over the hump. John began to show a little

light and looked up at me while I was talking to him. I made him tell himself, “I can

do this,” a couple times because I honestly believed the kid could pass, but that

meant nothing unless John believed it as well.

Finally, John came through with a compromise. He asked me to join him on

the boat during his test. Initially, I was skeptical because I normally test from my

Boston Whaler to be able to watch more than one boat at once. I also thought my

presence on the boat would intimidate him even more. I was surprised when he

admitted that my joining him would help calm him down because he knew I

believed in him. I agreed once I realized that he needed me for the emotional

support, not the tactical support.

Every person reacts differently to challenges and needs something different

to help him or her overcome them. For John, his support came in the presence of

someone whom he trusted and who believed in him. I saw this as we sailed out to

the racecourse that he had completed so many times. As we crossed the starting line

and prepared for the first roll tack, I looked back to him and gave him a nod. “You

got this,” I affirmed. I still saw the nerves in his eyes, but his voice hid it well. He

gave the commands, “Prepare to come about. Ready about? Hard to lee!” We rolled

the boat hard and strong like a rocking chair into a perfect roll tack. I didn’t say a

word but couldn’t hide the smile on my face. We came to the point for the second

roll tack and John yelled the commands with even more confidence. “Hard to lee!”

He nailed it. At this point, I let out a whoop; I was having fun! I didn’t mean to since I

was trying to maintain a composed nature as the tester, but roll tacks are one of the

more rhythmic and exhilarating maneuvers in sailing and I was having a blast as this

kid honed the craft. We rounded the upwind marker and prepared to gybe. “Prepare

to gybe! Helms to the weather! Gybe ho!” commanded a new, confident John that

wasn’t the same kid who was crying on the pier. John swung the boom across the

boat with precision and balance, never losing control of the helm. I was able to keep

composed as I knew he had just completed the hardest part of the test. Now all he

had to do is finish the race, which he did in a quick fashion.

“Alright, let’s go in,” I told John. I didn’t reveal to him that he had passed and I

could see that the nerves were creeping their way back into his mind. I was silent as

he skippered us back into mooring and as he furled his boat. He finished and

approached me and asked me if he had passed. “I have a couple questions for you

first,” I replied as I saw him grow more and more nervous. I drilled him with a

couple racing tactic questions that I knew he would answer correctly. “How do you

approach the downwind marker?” I asked. “Wide and tight,” John answered. “Name

three points of a good start,” I quizzed him. “Starboard tack, close to the line, and full

speed?” he replied as I could see him beginning to question my motives. “How many

times is the charm?” I asked. “Third?” John answered suspiciously. “That’s right!

Third time’s the charm! You passed!” John couldn’t even say a word. He simply gave

me a huge bear hug. I picked him up and threw him into the river, as was tradition

for campers who passed the exam. The smile on his face was contagious. Campers

and counselors on the pier crowded around him to congratulate him on his

accomplishment. I think it took him a while to realize what he just had done, but I

could tell that a whole new level of confidence had just developed in that child.

The true results of his journey would not be seen until the next summer. On

one of the first days of camp, an older, more confident John approached me to thank

me for all my help one year in the past. I was astonished that he remembered what

he went through and even more surprised that he remembered me. John told me

that he was entering Lightning Training, the highest level of training at Camp. I told

him that I had 100 percent confidence that he had the ability to pass the rank as long

as he had confidence in himself. He had more than enough confidence in himself.

Three weeks later, John approached me again with news. He had that same huge

smile on his face that I recognized from one year earlier and before he could even

tell me, I guessed, “You nailed it, didn’t you?” He didn’t say a word; he just pulled out

the blue hat with a red lightning bolt that only a camper who passes the test gets

and put it on his head. John thanked me for believing in him the year before. He told

me that if I had not pushed him, he would never had the confidence to pursue his

goal of Lightning Skipper, let alone accomplish it.

That is what Camp is all about. Camp allows boys and girls like John the

opportunity to fail. But what is so great about that opportunity is the chance they

have to learn from their mistakes and build confidence in a safe environment that is

unplugged from the outside world. At camp, all these kids need to worry about is

becoming the best version of themselves that they can be. That will carry over into

the real world and give them an advantage that kids sitting at home playing video

games will never have: the confidence in themselves to try something new, fail,

learn from their mistakes, and believe in themselves enough to overcome those

obstacles. That is what this society needs more than ever and Camp is the place that

can provide it.

Works Consulted:

"Kids Wireless Use Facts." Kids Wireless Use Facts. N.p., n.d. Web. 10 Nov. 2015.

<http://www.growingwireless.com/get-the-facts/quick-facts#children>.

"Lightning Sailboat Specifications." Sailboatdata.com. N.p., n.d. Web.

<http://sailboatdata.com/viewrecord.asp?class_id=2913>.

"Our Mission." Character Counts. N.p., n.d. Web. 25 Sept. 2015. <http://www.seagull-

seafarer.org/about-us/our-mission>.

"Our Mission." Mission Statement, Cause-driven Organization. YMCA of the Triangle,

n.d. Web. <https://www.ymcatriangle.org/about-y/our-mission>.

Wallerson, Ryan. "Youth Participation Weakens in Basketball, Football, Baseball,

Soccer." WSJ. N.p., 31 Jan. 2014. Web. 10 Nov. 2015.

<http://www.wsj.com/articles/SB10001424052702303519404579350892

629229918>.

Time to Wake Up

I sat in my plane from Toronto to Frankfurt, opened up the journal that I promised

my grandparents that I would write and began to put some thoughts together. I

looked to my destination and what experiences would meet me there; I was heading

across the Atlantic Ocean to study abroad in Barcelona – my first experience outside

of the United States. As I started writing down the obvious cliché goals I wanted to

accomplish and sites that I wanted to see, I began to think back on why I was on this

plane in the first place and what made it such a difficult decision to leave

somewhere that was familiar and has some of my best friends, Hampden-Sydney

College, so spontaneously for a place where I hardly knew anything about two

months prior to the flight.

I looked back to my sophomore year at Hampden-Sydney College. A younger,

enthusiastic version of myself entered the year on a mission: to rebound from a

subpar academic year. I registered for 18 hours of class, three more than my usual

15 and six more than the required twelve. I knew in order to accomplish this some

sacrifices would be have to made. It was my first full year as a brother of the Kappa

Alpha Order and I was more than ecstatic to be a part of that group of guys and the

social events that would happen that year. “Think long term,” I would tell myself,

sitting in the library while my friends would be having the time of their lives. As the

semester dragged on, the temptation of skipping out on doing what was right

became greater and greater, but it was worth it when I made the Dean’s List for the

first time.

Like a broken record, I returned from Winter break eager and refreshed only

to find out that I had caught Mono… forcing me to immediately spend two weeks at

home and more later due to two other relapses, severely restricting the activities I

could do, due to the severity of my case. Some of my favorite things to do were taken

away from me: sports, drinking, traveling, and tutoring at Prince Edward County

Elementary School. All the work I just put into recovering my grades seemed to be in

danger too. I missed so many classes that I was forced to drop two classes, setting

me behind on my path to graduate on time. To make matters worse, my fraternity

had gone into a serious suspension and was on the brink of losing its charter. At this

point, I was seriously considering transferring and begun to research the process. As

I was scrolling through the Hampden-Sydney College website looking for the

directory, a tab called “Global Education” caught my eye. My grandparents had been

telling me for years that I should consider studying abroad; they, in their old age,

have traveled to countless other countries, including New Zealand, Scotland, and

Spain. I started comparing Hampden-Sydney with the other schools I was

considering transferring to. Neither the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill,

College of Charleston, nor North Carolina State University had quite the same

opportunities that I discovered that we have at Hampden-Sydney.

I finally made it to where I would live for the next four months. My host

mother, Feli, who was a small, older single mother of three, let me in to a small flat

that would be my home. I gave her a small gift of appreciation for letting me live

with her - a dye cast model of a Pinehurst Resort golf cart. I couldn’t understand a

word of the rapid Spanish that she was saying, but I assumed – or hoped - she liked

it. The flat was pitch black. I used the wall to track my way down the foreign hallway

to my room, where I unpacked and then blindly found my way into the living room,

where my roommate was sitting in a chair, watching soccer. I introduced myself to

him and sat down on the couch only to feel squirming under me. I looked down and

saw my host mother passed out cold under a blanket on the couch – I almost

crushed her! I guess almost getting sat on by one of your foreign exchange students

motivated her to get up and give us a tour, so she walked us around and showed us a

few streets and places in Sant Gervasi, our neighborhood. Again, I had no idea what

in the world she was saying or where she was taking us. My Spanish was not as the

point where I could understand what she was saying and I was naturally hopeless

with directions. I got lost countless times in the first few weeks that I was in

Barcelona. I was that obvious tourist who walked around with a huge map and wore

a backpack sticking out like a sore thumb.

It took a while for me to accept that I was no longer blending in with my

surroundings. At Hampden-Sydney, I am just one of the guys, but in Barcelona I was

a confused, khaki-wearing tourist who butchered the Spanish language with a

southern drawl. I had never lived in a big city before. The hustle and bustle of

Barcelona intimidated me into jumping into a routine that wasn’t very adventurous,

since I was still working on getting to know the people who were studying with me.

It took a friend inviting me to go to Rome with them for me to truly see that to make

the most out of this experience, I was going to have to get out of my comfort zone

and actively be involved in the community.

Naturally, I am a homebody. I have been content to just chill with friends and

be minimally involved. I have not been actively involved in clubs at school – I was in

one club and had a small roll with my fraternity, but that’s about it. It took me a

while to force myself to go sit outside at a restaurant and people watch or go watch

the magic fountain of Montjïc or even hike up the famous Parc Guell. The more that I

thought about it, the more I realized that Barcelona was not unlike Hampden-

Sydney. While there wasn’t the bustling city dynamic of Barcelona, Hampden-

Sydney still provides plenty of things to do. The more I got acclimated and involved

in Barcelona, the more I regretted not being involved at Hampden-Sydney. I had

never been hunting, fishing, or rented a canoe since I’ve been here. The struggles

that I experienced in my first two years at Hampden-Sydney were brought upon by

me, I decided. A place is only as fun as you make it. There are plenty of things to do

anywhere; you just need to open your eyes and search with a positive attitude.

There are still plenty of things that I have yet to do in Barcelona just as there

are still things I have to do before I graduate from Hampden-Sydney. Without

Barcelona, I fear that I would have come back to southern Virginia with the same

lazy attitude as before, graduated, and looked back on my experience with regret.

There will be another chance for me to visit Barcelona and relive my stay there, but I

will never be 20 years old and in college with some of my best friends again.

Sailing Is Courage

Walk into the sail loft of Camp Sea Gull for boys in Arapahoe, North Carolina, and on

above the entrance you will see the words “Sailing is Courage” inscribed on a plaque.

When I first read those words, I was seven years old and my first sailing instructor

told me those words would be the truest thing I’d learn while at camp. He was right.

What I didn’t know was that the first time sitting on an old Sunfish – a fourteen feet

long dingy made for one to three people (Sunfish Boat Specifications) – would

capture my imagination and start an obsession that is only stronger fifteen years

later.

While I have always enjoyed sailing, I never had a good opportunity to

develop my skills until I became a sailing counselor at Camp Sea Gull. I had always

been able to get around on a boat but never understood what made the boat go

(apart from wind, of course). One of the best ways to learn a craft is to teach it. You

understand how to sail better if you have to find a way to help a seven-year-old to

understand it. As I began progressing through the ranks of counselors, I taught more

advanced sailing concepts, some that I had never previously learned myself. I

enjoyed learning the tactics, strategies, and physics of the sport as much as I enjoyed

teaching it. I found that the sport I had so instinctively grasped as a seven-year-old

is one of the most intellectual sports out there. I seek to be very involved in the

sailing community in the future to further develop the skills that I learned and

taught. To become great at something, one must understand how it works on a

scientific level and sailing is no exception.

Nomenclature:

As with any sport or science, gaining an understanding of the nomenclature of the

art is critical before diving into more complex topics. To comprehensively grasp the

physics behind sailing, one must be able to recognize the parts of the boat. At any

time if you are confused about a term, refer to the appendix at the end for a

definition.

Points of Sail:

One of the most challenging struggles that I have when teaching young kids to sail is

getting them to understand boat direction relative to the wind, or Points of Sail.

Points of sail describe the direction that the boat will head as well as the speed.

There are six points of sail and they all revolve around one concept: it is physically

impossible for a sailboat to sail directly into the wind – in fact, most boats need to be

about forty-five degrees from the wind in order for the sails to catch enough air to

push the boat forward.

I can’t count how many kids that I have taught who sit in the boat facing the

wind, not grasping this concept. The first point of sail is exactly this and it is referred

to as “Irons.” “Irons” is the angle directly facing the wind to which the sails are

luffing (flapping uncontrollably). This encompasses the forty-five degrees to either

side of the wind before the sails catch enough air to power up. To exit Irons, one

must “Back Down,” which is the action of allowing the current and wind to push the

boat backwards as you point your tiller hard to starboard or port. This act is much

like driving backwards in a car. The current pushes on the rudder and slowly points

the boat to an angle where once straightened out, you can tighten your sheet, the

line that controls the tension of the sail, and begin sailing again. One thing to keep in

mind: sail trim is crucial to each point of sail. The higher your boat points upwind,

the tighter your sails need to be to the boat. When the sails are tight to the boat, it

reduces the angle that the wind hits the sail, allowing for the sails to catch more

wind and provide more power. One technique I teach my students is to ease the

sheets so that they luff, then tighten them and stop right when the sails completely

fill with air. This will ensure you are at proper sail trim for the point of sail you are

currently on.

Once you’re at an angle that can catch wind in your sails and have tightened

your sheet close to the center of the boat, you’re at the second point of sail, Close

Hauled. This is the highest effective point of sail and closest that a boat can sail

upwind. Racers prefer the close-hauled point of sail because it gives them the

smallest angle with which to reach an upwind marker. Any other point of sail

requires a larger angle, which creates more ground to cover.

Fall off slightly and ease your sheet and you have reached the point of sail

called “Close Reach.” When asked which point is fastest, most students typically

answer one that goes downwind with the wind – Close Reach is the fastest point of

sail for most boats, believe it or not – due to Bernoulli’s Principle, which I will

explain later. This is one of the more exhilarating points of sail. In high winds, the

wind wants to push the boat over, causing it to keel over and forcing the skipper to

use his/her weight to balance the boat.

Keep falling off until you are completely perpendicular to the wind and you

have reached the “Beam Reach” stage, often simply referred to as a “Beam,” in which

your boat is at a ninety-degree angle to the wind. It is a fast point of sail that we as

instructors often teach students to use when in trouble because they can completely

release the sheet and the boom, the horizontal pole that connects the sail to the

vertical pole, or mast, will fly out away from the boat and out of harm’s way. We call

this “Safety position.”

The point of sail between a Beam Reach and sailing completely downwind is

called “Broad Reach.” Here, your sails are almost completely out and you can raise

your centerboard because you are sailing with the current and wind so drag is not

that big of a factor.

Finally, sailing completely parallel with the wind is called “Running Free” or

“Running.” While Running, your boat’s sails are completely out and there is no need

for a centerboard since you are sailing with the current and wind.

A lot of times I get asked by my students “why doesn’t the wind push the boat

down the water? (By this, they mean why doesn’t the boat move with the wind

rather than at an angle to the wind?) How does the boat go forward?” This

phenomenon is created by the drag or friction forced upon the water by the

centerboard. The centerboard (a long board that resembles a plane wing) reduces

the downward push on the boat and focuses the energy in a forward motion,

keeping the boat heading upwind rather than drifting down the water. Without the

centerboard, a Close Hauled and any upwind point of sail down to a Beam Reach is

impossible (Points of Sail).

Bernoulli’s Principle:

Recall the feeling when you stick your hand out the window of a moving car. You

flatten your hand and allow the wind to carry your arm up and down as you feel the

lift and pull. This is the closest physical sensation to what is called “Bernoulli’s

Principle.” Here, your sail acts just like a wing on a plane. As the wind flows over one

side of the sail, it fills the sail with air. At the same time, the air flowing on the other

side of the sail is moving faster and cannot push the sail as hard as the other side.

Therefore, the sail is forced perpendicular to the wind direction. As discussed

previously, this would normally push the boat with the wind, but the centerboard

creates resistance against this lateral force, creating only one direction for the boat

to go: forward (Wolfe, Joe).

Sailing Upwind:

Imagine you are sitting on your Sunfish and you want to sail to an island where all

your friends are hanging out for the day. The island is directly upwind from where

you are right now. You point your boat to the island and prepare to party with your

pals, but you’re not going anywhere. The sail luffs uncontrollably over your head as

you struggle to figure out why you aren’t moving. You recall from your sailing class

the points of sail and remember that it’s impossible to sail directly into the wind.

How are you supposed to get there then? You can only sail about forty-five degrees

close hauled from the wind, so sailing to the left or right will put you way past the

island on either side. After some deliberation, you have a brilliant idea: if I sail in

one direction for a little while and tack, I can angle my boat to a point where I can

sail to the island. You just figured out the fundamental technique of sailing; Beating

upwind, as this action is called, is how sailors reach points that lie directly upwind.

This repeated zigzag motion allows the boat to eventually reach an angle with which

it can successfully sail to the upwind destination (Tacking Invervals).

Sailing can be one of the most relaxing and most exhilarating sports in the

world. There is nothing more relaxing than cruising on a calm summer day,

watching the sun set over the water as you drink a beer with some of your best

friends. The rhythmic rocking of the boat and the soft splash of the water against the

hull sooth all the senses and put one in a meditative state. Yet, the sheer thrill and

competitiveness of a high-intensity regatta can seldom be matched. Imagine one

hundred boats fighting tirelessly for position on the starting line while trying to

avoid contact with other boats. There are countless tactics and strategies to think

about and the speed can satisfy any action junkie. Sailing is a beautiful sport and

there is so much more to learn about it. The technology continues to improve as the

physics is further studied. Recently in the America’s Cup, a maneuver called

“Hydrofoiling” was introduced to the sailing and racing world. Hyrdofoiling is when

a double-hulled catamaran with two centerboards that resemble upside down “T’s”

use a combination of angles, speed, and water pressure to physically lift the boat out

of the water to reduce the surface area that the boat is touching the water and

therefore increase speeds to unheard of levels. Sailing is constantly improving and

developing. New developments such as hydrofoiling are only a glimpse at the future

of this amazing sport.

Appendix:

Bow: The front end of the boatStern: The back end of the boatPort: The left side of the boat when facing the bowStarboard: The right side of the boat when facing the bowFore: The front of the boatAft: The back of the boatMast: The vertical pole that supports the sailMasthead: The top of the mastBoom: the horizontal pole attached to the mast, also supporting the sailTack/Comeabout: A change in direction in which the bow crosses facing the windStarboard/Port Tack: Called “Starboard tack” or “Port tack,” defining which side of the boat that the wind is crossing first. On a Starboard tack, the wind crosses the starboard side first. On a Port tack, the wind crosses the port side first. Gybe: A change in direction in which the bow crosses with the windMainsail: A three-cornered sail fastened to the mast and boom that most powerfully pushes the boatJib: A smaller, three-cornered sail on the fore of the boat, fastened to the masthead and bow, used on larger boats to increase power and controlSpinnaker: A large, three-cornered sail, set foremost of mainsail.Sheet: The lines that control the tension and angle of the sails. The tighter you trim the sheet, the closer the sail is to the boat. The looser you ease the sheet, the farther away the sail sits from the boat.Centerboard: The vertical board in the center of the boat that prevents horizontal drift when sailingRudder: The vertical board on the stern that controls the direction of the boatTiller: The handle attached to the rudder that is used for steeringPointing up: The act of steering a sailboat closer to windwardFalling off: (No, not literally falling off) The act of steering a sailboat away from windward.

Works Consulted:

"Physics Buzz: The Physics of Sailing: How Does a Sailboat Move Upwind?" Physics

Buzz: The Physics of Sailing: How Does a Sailboat Move Upwind? N.p., n.d. Web.

30 Oct. 2015. <http://physicsbuzz.physicscentral.com/2015/05/the-

physics-of-sailing-how-does.html>.

"The Physics of Sailing." The Physics of Sailing. N.p., n.d. Web. 30 Oct. 2015.

<http://ffden-2.phys.uaf.edu/211_fall2002.web.dir/josh_palmer/basic.html>

.

"Points of Sail; Illustration of a Sailboat at Different Angles to the Wind." Points of

Sail; Illustration of a Sailboat at Different Angles to the Wind. N.p., n.d. Web. 30

Oct. 2015. <http://www.schoolofsailing.net/points-of-sail.html>.

"Sunfish Boat Specifications." Sunfish Boat Specifications. N.p., n.d. Web. 30 Oct.

2015. <http://www.sunfishdirect.com/store/specifications>.

"Tacking Intervals." Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, n.d. Web. 30 Oct. 2015.

<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tacking_(sailing)#/media/File:Tacking_Inte

rvals.svg>.

Wolfe, Joe. "The Physics of Sailing." The Physics of Sailing. N.p., n.d. Web. 30 Oct.

2015. <http://newt.phys.unsw.edu.au/~jw/sailing.html>.

Edward

You always think you know how you will react in an emergency. You simulate the

situation in your head and see yourself expertly navigating harsh waters until you

come out on the other side of the sea without a scratch. It’s easier to see yourself

emerging victorious than defeated. I know personally that it was difficult to find my

own inadequacies. While in high school, I earned my Eagle Scout award with the Boy

Scouts of America, whose motto, “Be Prepared,” trained me to be aware of the

situation around me and to properly analyze how to react in an emergency. In a less

politically correct manner, my grandfather always told me about the six “P’s:”

“Proper Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance.” I always thought that I would be

prepared to handle an emergency if one occurred. However, in the summer of 2014,

I was forced to stare my shortcomings in the face.

I was a fourth year counselor at Camp Sea Gull on the coast of North Carolina.

I was the oldest counselor on the sailing staff as well as one of the most experienced

sailors on staff. I wasn’t the most talented sailor, but I was definitely among them for

someone who doesn’t sail year-round. As the most senior counselor on staff, I was

assigned the role of Keelboat Instructor for the summer, a cushy job in which I

taught the most advanced ranks on a twenty-five foot Catalina. Pretty much, my job

was to relax on the stern while I told my students what maneuver to perform while

they sailed. I hardly ever even rigged the boat – that was something my students did.

I taught docking and heave-to, but I most rigorously taught the man-overboard

procedure. Myself, I had been trained earlier in the summer to learn the maneuvers

so that I could teach them. I practiced them hundreds of times until I could do them

in my sleep. My instructor, Sykes DeHart, the camp director’s father, even told the

Sailing Master that I was one of the quickest he had ever seen to grasp man-

overboard and be able to perform the maneuver. On top of that, during the summer

I taught the maneuver another couple hundred times and even drilled my students

on what to do in case of a failed attempt. I became so comfortable sailing that boat

that I could single-handedly sail it and even dock it by myself (it requires two people

to sail). I thought I was invincible on that boat.

Apart from instructing, I gave younger campers rides in the early morning

during their time on the water. I loved this part of the job because it gave me a

chance to sail and keep my skills sharp. Kids aged seven to twelve are going to have

mixed reactions when getting on a boat that is designed to keel over. Some kids

panicked when they felt the boat leaning over and the water touching the railing.

For these kids, I would usually only sail on the mainsail and not use the jib so as to

keep the boat calm and flat; I tried to convince them that it was impossible for this

boat to capsize. There are other kids who love the strange combination of

adrenaline and fear created by the boat as it keels over and the wind whips across

their face. Edward, a seven year old, was one of these kids.

One of my favorite parts of the job was to corral kids who had never sailed

before or who were scared of the water and take them sailing. I had an advantage

over the smaller boats because I could sail without getting wet and guarantee not

capsizing. It was easier to convince a young, frightened camper to go on a large boat

with eight other people than it was to wade through the water and get on a Sunfish,

a boat that capsizes all the time. I would frequently take young campers on their

first ever time on a boat because I could control the boat and was good at calming

down panicked kids.

I met Edward this way. Edward was a first-year camper who was still

learning how to swim and far from comfortable enough to get on a boat. It’s a

crapshoot on whether a camper like this will hate the water or love it. It’s

impossible to tell; some people just don’t enjoy it. Edward wasn’t one of those

people. On his first trip, he sat next to me as I talked to him about his home and his

goals for the summer. Edward looked like he had been on boats his entire life. He

was talkative and wanted to explore the boat, crawling in and out of the

companionway - the cabin under the deck on most keelboats - and up onto the bow.

When I let him steer the boat, I could tell he was hooked. As Edward became a

regular on my early morning boat rides, we became friends. I would check up on

him during meals and he would run over and talk to me if he ever saw me around

camp. Edward became one of my favorite younger campers and someone I was

proud to see so comfortable on the water.

Edward’s favorite spot on my boat was lying on his stomach across the

companionway. He enjoyed holding on to the railings as the boat keeled over and

acting like he was flying across the water like Superman. He would meet me on the

pier every morning and wait as I brought the boat around to prepare it for the day.

Always the first one on the boat, Edward made sure to claim his favorite spot on the

boat, and I became so comfortable with him sitting there that he would be the only

younger camper I would allow to sit there because he was the only one I trusted. I

normally wouldn’t let a camper lay across like Edward would in fear that he would

fall off the boat. He was the only camper in line for my first morning cruise on a day

when the wind was whipping at almost twenty knots. I helped him onto the boat

and let him play around with the radio to find some music that he liked while we

waited for more campers to arrive. On cue, an Assistant Head counselor named

James, whose job it was to take homesick or troubled campers from activity to

activity walked down the pier and saw Edward and me chatting on a nearly empty

boat. “Have room for six more?” he asked, knowing the answer. “Bring ‘em on.” I got

up and began to check out the campers as James helped them on the boat. James

worked on Paddle Sports before being promoted to an Assistant Head and admitted

to me, “I have no idea how to sail…” I told him that it was fine and that as long as he

could control the campers from running and jumping all over the boat, everything

would be all right.

On a typical cruise, I sail from the pier for about five minutes, tack around,

and sail back to dock. This short run was so I could make time for multiple runs if

needed and reduce the number of times I would tack; the boom swinging overhead

would sometimes scare younger campers so I would try to tack as infrequently as

possible. Also, the kids loved to steer the boat, so I would let them steer it straight

by pointing to a landmark across the river and telling them to keep the tiller still. We

sailed our usual five minutes out, then I tacked around to return to the pier. Nothing

out of the ordinary. The kids were talking, having a good time, and Edward was

laughing in his usual spot, but his head was on the leeward side, so due to the keel of

the boat, his head was closer to the water than his feet. I didn’t think a thing of it

since I was so used to him being up on the companionway.

The next thing I knew, I felt the boat take a strong dip leeward and I

immediately pointed up and eased the mainsheet, focused on evening out the keel,

when I saw Edward take an almost perfect face-first dive straight into the choppy

river. A gust of wind tilted the boat over violently, causing Edward, who wasn’t

holding on at the time, to slide off the boat. Edward was terrified. A panicked seven-

year-old boy screamed like his life depended on it as I began the man-overboard

procedure that I had practiced and taught hundreds of times. I gave James the order

to radio the man-overboard in to the pier so that a safety boat would help steer

other boats from running over Edward and then to calm the campers down so that I

could safely proceed. “Need any help?” James offered, but cockiness clouded my

mind as I declined. “No, just keep the kids calm and seated,” a hyper-focused self

declined. I tossed in a floatable to Edward as I sailed three boat lengths away to

begin my approach. Every time I practiced or taught the procedure, the man

overboard was a floatable seat. Floatable seats can’t panic. They can’t yell or be

scared. Nothing can simulate the terror of watching the horror in a child’s face in the

water. He does not know the man-overboard procedure. He does not know that I am

supposed to sail away before tacking around in the shape of a figure eight. Edward

saw me leaving and thought I was ditching him, so he panicked. I knew I could get

him, though. I tacked around and began my approach, but the wind was playing tug-

of-war with the sheets and me, and it was winning. I could not keep the sheets tight

enough to gain enough speed to approach Edward windward and finally came to a

stop about ten yards leeward of the panicking child. Unable to reach Edward with

my extended hook, I tried to encourage him: “I’m coming back around, stay calm!”

But he only got worse. Edward started yelling for help even louder as he thrashed

his arms desperately, searching for something to grab on to. He was safe, wearing a

lifejacket, but that didn’t enter my clouded mind at the time.

I saw Edward, a kid whom I developed a tight relationship with, more scared

than I had ever seen another kid before. A strange instinctual wave of emotion and

guilt crashed over me. I made my decision. “James, can you keep the boat straight?” I

asked. “Uhh….sure?” he replied, questioning my motives. I pointed the boat straight

into the wind so that it would not go anywhere and gave the tiller to my colleague.

“Here, keep it pointed this way and don’t let it sail anywhere,” I ordered. “I’m going

in for him.” “What?!” yelled an astonished James as he watched me dive into the

river and swim to Edward. I finally got to Edward and grabbed hold of him, looking

him in the eyes to tell him that it was going to be ok. Edward wiped away tears and I

could see his trust in me was still there as he calmed down. As we floated in the

river, I turned to see my boat in full sail, tearing towards the pier. James lost control

of the boat and was clueless about how to steer it into the wind. The terror of what I

had done hit me. I was helpless watching six children and one of our two keelboats

on a collision course with the pier. A collision would not only destroy one of our

most important boats, but more importantly it would hurt those six kids. I screamed

at James to point the boat into the wind, yet I knew he couldn’t hear me. Suddenly,

the Motorboating chief, Steve, pulled up on a Parker next to Edward and me. I

helped him lift Edward onto the boat and pull myself in. Steve raced us to my boat as

it approached a football field’s distance from colliding with the pier. I grabbed the

side of my boat and lifted myself in with enough time to regain control and calmed

down the campers, who also had also begun to panic after I ditched the boat. We

safely docked at the pier, and James and I helped each camper off the boat.

Once the boat was safely docked and the campers were off the boat, I sat

everyone down and explained the events that just happened. I explained that a gust

of wind keeled the boat over uncontrollably and the surprise caused Edward to slide

off the boat. Concerned that this experience would scar these kids into never sailing

again, I made that same group promise to go sailing with me the next day so that

they wouldn’t end their sailing experience on a bad note. They all agreed and I let

them carry on with their day. Edward, soaking wet, hung back with me and we

walked back to his cabin where he changed and then played basketball with me to

help get his mind off the trauma that just occurred. Edward seemed to be over it, but

I wasn’t. I asked if he could ever forgive me, thinking he would need a while to

process the events of that day. “Yeah, of course I forgive you,” he answered, giving

me a hug. I think he could see that I was furious with myself for putting other people

in danger, and he wanted to let me know everything was ok.

I have always been my toughest critic. There was no one harder on me after

Edward’s accident than I was. I beat myself up for not only letting him fall off the

boat in the first place, but also because that day was a harsh reminder that I wasn’t

as cool and collected as I thought I would be in an emergency. I always thought I

would be James Bond-like in case of an emergency. Turns out, I let instincts and

emotions get in the way of clear thinking and my training. Turns out, Edward’s

accident became one of the most important learning experiences of my life so far. It

added much needed humility and taught me to slow down and trust my training. I

needed this experience to make me a better person. I have not had an accident like

Edward’s happen since, but I have to expect one will happen and I am hoping the

experience will guide me to a better result. But, I thought the same thing before

Edward. So who really knows how I will react? That is part of the beauty of life. You

can always control your reaction and the mistakes you make are valuable learning

experiences. Nelson Mandela once said, “I never lose. I win or I learn.” From my

experience with Edward, I learned to remember my training and take a deep, calm

breath and to think before I act. A plan of action will more likely result positively

than simply jumping in, as I learned both metaphorically and literally that faithful

day on the Neuse River.

Refection on the Semester

Now that you have emerged with me from the rough waters and complex path of my

life, you can probably tell I had quite a few difficulties writing these essays. With

each of these topics, “Place,” “Time,” “Travel,” “Science,” and “Personal,” I wanted to

give the audience an upbeat, light read that makes the audience and me feel warm

and positive. For some reason, I simply could not. I struggled to formulate a story

about a place that had enough substance to be worth the reader’s time, but all I

could think about was my shortcomings. I did not want to bash my hometown…

nobody wants that. Luckily, I (hopefully) will not have the following that Mrs.

Kristen Green has for her book, Something Must Be Done About Prince Edward

County, because I feel my opinions on Pinehurst would garner a similar negative

reaction from the locals there. But I just had to get my feelings about my hometown

off my chest. I never truly fit in there. My two best friends lived an hour away in

Greensboro, North Carolina and I would visit them on weekends as much as

possible. There was always something off about the small, cozy golf resort where I

lived, but it’s hard to tell the people who brought you there that you hated it.

Another major difficulty I had when writing was trying not to be cliché when

writing about my adventure to Barcelona. I felt that I had a very average trip. I did

have a much different experience than most people because I went alone, but it has

yet to really hit me if any of my experiences altered my life in any way other than

what I wrote about in “Time to Wake Up.” I am really anxious to read this piece in

ten or twenty years to see if my view on the trip has changed at all or if I have

discovered any change in myself that was a result of the trip. I am itching to return

to Barcelona and have many other locations on my list to travel to as well. As

average as the trip was, it was worth ever cent and was one of the more challenging

and enjoyable experiences of my life.

While these essays presented many challenges, I actually enjoyed myself

writing them and working with Dr. Frye on developing these stories. The finished

product of Pinehurst: The Anti-Community turned out completely different than how

I originally intended. Dr. Frye worked with me to deeply analyze the root of the

issue at hand. Thanks to his help, I was not only to create a better story for the

reader, but also I was able to understand my hometown on a more perplexing level

and divert some of my anger towards the village to sympathy. I now understand

why these people are so bitter and privatized and I can use my knowledge to help

rather than to demean.

Perhaps my favorite essay to write was Sailing Is Courage. I am not a science-

oriented guy by any means, but I am by far the most passionate about this topic. I

treated this essay like I would treat one of my beginner sailing classes. The

organization and information of the piece came so naturally to me since I have

taught classes containing the same material hundreds of times before. Sailing is a

major passion of mine and I was excited to be able to share my knowledge with the

class and my readers. I had a similar experience writing the story about Edward and

his man-overboard. Although the incident was a traumatic experience in my life, it

was one of the most valuable learning experiences I will ever have. I learned more

about myself in that five to ten minute span than I have anywhere else.

This semester forced me to open up in ways that I could not have anticipated

at the beginning of the class. I have analyzed what I know about myself, what I

thought I knew, and learned to sympathize rather than hate. I have navigated rough

waters with you and have docked at a new port scratched and bruised, but a better

man. There will be many more ports to sail to and countless storms and squalls to

conquer. Yet, I sail on with full sails and a clear path because of what I have learned

and overcome.