Our trawler’s name was Dream O’ Genie, Eva’s middle name and her dream. The boat lived up to the name and made the rough places plain and a safe passage through turbulent waters. All we had to do was hang on and enjoy the ride, even when we were helpless with fear and indecision. In 6300 miles and through 145 locks we never went aground, never damaged a prop, never lost a crew member, didn’t get divorced and ended up on schedule and on budget with enough pictures and stories to last a lifetime.
Along the way we published a newsletter to friends and family (now everyone posts daily blogs online) and sold stories to magazines and newspapers during and following the trip. Those chronicles of our travels became the first draft of a book entitled, “Honey, Let’s Get a Boat…”, Eva’s murmurings following our Canadian trip.
“Who’s going to buy this thing?” we asked ourselves. We talked to publishers and agents and concluded that we were not hot stuff. The only solution was to do it ourselves. We quit our jobs, sold our California house and moved to Tennessee on the Tellico Lake (Little Tennessee River) with plans to publish the book and create Raven Cove Publishing. We read books on self-publishing and how to market, laid it out on the computer, hired someone to design the cover and sent the files to a Kansas book printer.
When a truck arrived and unloaded 2,200 books at our doorstep, we knew we had work to do. We didn’t have that many friends and relatives, but books are cheaper by the gross so we’d ordered a bunch. It was gambling. Our profit margin went up with each additional 500.
We became regular seminar presenters at Trawler Fests, sometimes speaking at three or four a year in different locations, as well as yacht clubs, book stores, boat shows and Power Squadron events. Our new boating organization lurched into life, then surged forward with such speed and enthusiasm that we were soon totally engulfed. Get-togethers (rendezvous) were arranged along the Loop that had over 70 boats and 250 members in attendance; we arranged for seminars, meals and Looper crawls where everybody visited each other’s boats. We were bushed. After nearly eight years, we turned the organization over to a younger, more enthusiastic couple.
Others now carry on the tradition and the activities, and the old folks sit back and watch the kids come and go on their boats, knowing they’re going to have the time of their lives.
Be safe out there, kids, and don’t forget to write.
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