Carol Newman Cronin's Blog, page 16

Just One (Big) Gratitude: a Well-Balanced Life

Happy Thanksgiving! It’s my favorite holiday of all: a whole day to cook and chat with family and friends, capped off by a delicious meal—and followed up by an extra-long weekend. This year I’m responsible for cooking the turkey and making gravy, ably supervised by timeless mom-wisdom (she somehow knows just when the turkey will finally be ready, as well as just how much flour should be added to perfectly thicken the gravy). Other family members are busily creating many yummy side dishes. And best of all, somehow we each think that our particular job is the easiest one…

A Thursday blog means I’ve written several Thanksgiving-themed posts over the years; three of my favorites take me back to childhood singing in the car, 2017’s quite evergreen top 5 list of gratitude, and of course the imaginary (and completely COVID-free) Thanksgiving on Cooperation Island.

This year, I’ve tasked myself with choosing just one life-element to call out… and that has to be my work/life balance. Usually that term describes an imbalance; usually, too much work and not enough life. But for me, work has always been so closely intertwined with everything else I do that it’s hard to figure out where one ends and the other begins. And that’s just… wonderful. 

I don’t think I’d yet heard the term “work/life balance” in January of 2010 when I wrote Blurring the Lines Between Work and Play, but the post still rings quite true today. Especially: “I’m very lucky to have spliced together so many of my skills into a multi-faceted career that actually pays the bills.” And: “Taking time for what I consider important keeps me fired up to work harder when I get back to my desk.” 

So today, on this most universal of American holidays, I’m giving special thanks for a life that adjusts to wind, weather, and the seasons; a life that ebbs and flows around so many fun challenges. What about you: can you pick just one gratitude to share, either in the comments or in an email? I read every single one… though just this once, a response may have to wait until the turkey is done and the gravy is thickened.

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Book Review: Remarkably Bright Creatures

Really—an octopus narrator? Yes, and it works! The reason, in a word, is: VOICE. (Aided, of course, by the fact that octopuses are “remarkably bright creatures.”)

We first meet Marcellus McSquiddles (who does not like the name that a human child gave him) in a very short and sweet chapter one, as he explains his captivity—inside an aquarium tank, tantalizingly close to Puget Sound—and defines quite specifically the time that remains in his life as a Giant Pacific octopus: 160 days. He can count, and he can read; “I can do many things you would not expect.” That includes picking locks, reading fingerprints—and escaping from his tank when no one is looking. 

The first chapter is less than 500 words long, and it definitely leaves us wanting more… but after this introduction we move on to Tova, the 70-year-old woman who comes after hours to clean the aquarium. One evening, Tova finds Marcellus entangled in a charging cord, unable to return to his tank after a late night snack on abandoned takeout. Because she’s also a remarkable creature, Tova rescues him—and keeps his late-night wanderings a secret. She also begins to share her life story with Marcellus, through his tank’s glass, which she simultaneously tries to keep fingerprint-free. They develop a strong bond—especially once Marcellus realizes that a ring he found deep in the ocean, before he was captured, belongs to Tova’s drowned son.

I was eager to hear more from these two when Cameron, the third narrator, butted in; he’s a rather cardboard version of a down-and-out 30-year-old who decides to go in search of his father (if only to shake him down for child support). I kept reading, trusting the author to eventually connect his story back to the more intriguing original storyline… and soon I understood why we had to see the world through Cameron’s eyes as well. 

Though the story is somewhat predictable—and rather, um, fantastic, in all meanings of the word—the specificity of detail, especially when we’re wrapped up in the many legs of Marcellus, keeps it all surprisingly believable. We care what happens because of the unique richness of Marcellus and Tova’s relationship. Together, they deliver a satisfyingly full-circle ending, both in the big and small picture. I also learned a lot about the Great Pacific Octopus, though of course without more research I can’t be sure which “facts” are actually true. 

In the acknowledgments, author Shelby Van Pelt thanks the agent’s assistant who initially reviewed her query letter and then wrote in the margin to her agent-boss: “This is either brilliant or bananas.” I’m going with brilliant. I’d recommend this book to readers who enjoy realistic fantasy, a coastal setting, and of course the fresh perspective of a tale told by an octopus; truly a remarkably bright creature. 

Have you read a book lately that grabbed you unexpectedly? Share your thoughts in the comments below, or send me an email. I read every single one, with gratitude.

Read previous book reviews

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My Sailing Origin Story: The “Annoying” Inspiration of Ed

When people ask me how I started sailing, I have three set answers. The default for non-sailors: “My parents took me out on their first sailboat when I was 10 days old.” The second (when a listener is actually curious about my competitive beginnings): “I sailed my first race at age 10 with a guy named Bobby Bigelow.”

I only pull out the third answer if they are really asking, “What inspired you to go to the Olympics?” Then the response has to be: “I crewed for Ed Adams.”

This past weekend, Ed was inducted into the National Sailing Hall of Fame. I’m proud to say I nominated him, because he is the hardest-working and most intense racing sailor I know. That incredible work ethic (which has been called “annoying”, a fact Ed noted in his acceptance speech) has earned him several world titles as both sailor and coach. 

(l to r) Meredith Adams, Carol Cronin, Ed Adams, Tom Olsen, Liz Olsen

Ed surprised me with an invite to the Hall of Fame celebrations, along with his Gold Star crew Tom Olsen. Tom and his wife Liz and I all sailed for Connecticut College, so in between applauding Ed (and the 12 other equally deserving inductees), we reminisced about past antics and caught up on current life events. 

Midway through a wonderful weekend, I thanked Tom (again) for his excellent advice about my first phone call to Ed. In January 1990, when I’d asked Tom how to get back into competitive sailing, he instructed me to call Ed—and to lie about my short stature. Years later, Ed confirmed that if I’d told the truth, he would’ve hung up immediately. (He even acknowledged my fib in his acceptance speech, when he thanked his Snipe crew—“even if she was too short.”)

Looking back, I feel like I spent the last decade of the 20th century driving to regattas with Ed. Road trips with him were dominated by an intense discussion about how to make whatever slow boat we were sailing just 1 percent faster… which is, perhaps, why I remember an exception so well. Heading to Boston to sail Interclubs on a wintry Sunday morning quite early in 2000, I was picking Ed’s brain about how to join the next Olympic cycle. Ed asked, in his blunt way: “So, are you gonna go to the Olympics or are you gonna have kids? Because you can’t do both.” I was too shocked to give a definitive reply; “Um, can I get back to you on that?” It’s only in hindsight that I can see what an important question it was—and one that only he had the nerve to ask. 

In 2015, Sailing World editor Dave Reed talked me into writing a profile of Ed. The result was a well-received story that also made me realize how much I love writing profiles. So again in hindsight, I can trace some of my Seahorse success back to Ed as well. Five years later, Fast Eddy and the Big Lie still rings true: as I put it then, “He pushes limits, both his own and other people’s.”

I didn’t realize it in 1990, but earning the right to be Ed’s teammate was as critical to my sailing origin story as that first family sail or Bobby Bigelow’s early instructions. So thanks Ed for all the incredible memories, and congratulations once again for this latest and well-deserved recognition. May your passion and your work ethic continue to inspire future Olympians—even as they annoy everyone else.

And thanks also to Tom (and Liz) Olsen for a lifetime of friendship—especially that great advice to tell a small lie that would lead to such a big life. 

Read Fast Eddy and the Big Lie

Onne van der Wal captures the intensity of Ed—even from astern.

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Do You Track the Best Books You Read?

When asked how many books I read a year, my automatic response is “about 50.” Reading is both an escape and a way to learn “firsthand” about other worlds and lives, and one reason I love being an author is that getting lost in a novel can be justified as “research!”

Stories will always be more important to me than data, so I don’t do a great job of tracking everything I read. Which is what inspired this post today: as a reader, how do you track the books you’ve read, especially any favorites?

StoryGraph can “show” me my reading habits. But without consistent data input, their algorithms will never be very accurate.

Right at the moment, I’m reading three very different novels. Horse (Geraldine Brooks) and Trust (Hernan Diaz) are for two different book clubs; I’m also almost finished with (and love enough that I will probably review) Remarkably Bright Creatures (Shelby Van Pelt). If you’re curious about format, the current tally is evenly split: one audiobook, one hardcover, and one borrowed ebook.

Reader Sites

It was only once I’d started this blog post that I remembered to add any of the three to my “currently reading” list on Goodreads. (That list also includes one permanent addition, Ferry to Cooperation Island, though I have no idea if leaving it there has attracted any readers.) After I finish each book, I will update my progress… eventually.

Depending on how tardy I am with that update, my “reading dates” (which supposedly show how long it took to finish) may be wildly inaccurate. Since I no longer post reviews anywhere but here, have never dropped into any community rabbit holes (“check out what your high school sweetheart is reading this week!”), and don’t need external motivation to start my next book, I definitely don’t require such a robust platform to track my reading. 

(And Amazon, owner of Goodreads, certainly doesn’t need any more data about me.)

I’ve also set up an account on StoryGraph—partly because they automagically keep my profile updated when I add to Goodreads. Their algorithm makes good recommendations, and their graphs and pie charts are a fascinating rabbit hole of their own; apparently I prefer “quiet, thoughtful” historical fiction—and only read 11 percent non-fiction! Pretty to look at—and mostly confirming my own very unscientific conclusions. But the accuracy of such charts depends on consistent data entry, and that will never be my first literary priority.

My Fantasy Book List, and How I Review

What would be great—though also very, very spooky—is a list that automagically fills itself out, right after I finish (or am finished with) a book. Like Goodreads and StoryGraph, it would include the book’s ISBN so I can see the cover and read a description; that’s quite helpful when I go back a year or three later and can’t remember the story. Otherwise, it would log only the information I want to keep track of: when I read it, how long it took me to finish (if I did so), and what format I read it in. (I have a theory that I retain more when reading with my eyes on actual paper, though again I haven’t bothered to verify that with actual data.)

If I’m really affected by a book, I usually post about it here on the blog. I’ve written 85 book reviews since 2009; if you’re curious, there’s also a blog post explaining what I do and do not include. (read How to Write a Useful Book Review).

Stories, Not Data

The stories are what matter to me, so that fantasy booklist will likely remain just a fantasy—especially since several readers have said they like to see what I’m reading. But I’m still curious: those of you who read more than a few books a year, how do you keep track of your besties? Do you even bother, and if so: why? Share your thoughts in the comments, or send me an email: I read every single one, with gratitude.

PS: Thanks to StoryGraph—and researching this blog post—I now “know” that I’ve read 873 books since 2008. Which works out to an average of 62 books each year… but since that count also includes several favorites from the many years before we could keep track of such things online, I’m sticking with my usual answer: 50.

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you track the best books you read… and if so, how and why.

The post Do You Track the Best Books You Read?  appeared first on Carol Newman Cronin.

Video: The Jibes and Falls of Wingfoiling

I have to admit, I don’t watch too many short videos. If I’m going to sit down in front of a screen for pleasure and/or education, it will usually be a full-length feature movie or documentary. I’d much rather absorb any shorter lessons by reading.

But of course I have to watch whenever Paul posts a new episode of In and Out of the Boat Shop, especially when it’s about our latest addiction: wingfoiling. Thanks to 360 camera footage and some serious editing, he takes us for a ride—without even getting our feet wet. (A few months ago, his hard work was what made it possible to show you what it’s like to become a Harbor Butterfly.)

Paul’s latest video both educates and entertains. First he explains the wingfoil gear we use and the upgrades we’ve made over our first year. Then he shows us his own progression: from jibe-falling to the foiling jibe—a move both beautifully elegant and REALLY HARD.

Jibe-Falls

As soon as I turn downwind, the board slows down and comes off the foil. While there’s no shame in a non-foiling (and non-falling) jibe, I’m already hungry to replicate that smooth, gliding, silent turn—even though learning to do so means a lot of swims in a rapidly cooling harbor. Fortunately, I now have a video to study that will help me figure out how to maintain speed, carve just the right angle, and switch hands and feet “effortlessly” to come out on the other side, still flying. 

How much longer?

Last year, we packed up the foiling gear in mid-November. This year, we’re going to keep at it until it takes more time and effort to get dressed and undressed than it does to sail. That’s a sure sign that it’s time to shift into winter mode—at least until February, when we’ll head south for some warm-water adventures. 

Why didn’t I learn to jibe when it was still warm enough to foil barefoot? (And yes, that’s Pierre!)Still Snipe Sailing, too

PS: Paul may be focusing exclusively on wingfoiling these days, but I am NOT giving up the unique joys of Snipe sailing. Kim and I are already looking forward to the winter regattas in Florida, and I’m also working to (re)invigorate Narragansett Bay’s own Snipe Fleet 17 for the 2023 summer season. If you want to be added to our quickly growing contact list, send me an email or drop a note in the comments below—I read every single one, with gratitude.  

Okay, I’ll stop blabbing on now and share Paul’s new video. And then I’m going to go watch those gorgeous foiling jibes again, and again, and again—because that’s soooo much easier than trying to learn it myself and going for yet another October swim. 

(If you want to skip the gear info, those jibe-falls and gorgeous carving foil jibes start at 3:40.)

Paul’s previous video gives a quick view of wingfoiling (including a few crashes).

Read more wingfoiling posts

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Why a Re-Read May Be Drastically Different

As I get ready for my first solo in-person bookstore event in more years than I care to acknowledge, I’ve been thinking about how much our own experiences and mindsets affect our reaction to the books we read. About ten years ago, I was soooo excited to lose myself in a young adult fantasy by an author I’d recently met… but after only a few chapters I put it down, disappointed. Two years later, I picked it up again—and devoured it. The sentences and the plot and the characters were all exactly the same; it was only my own head-space that was different.

What sparked that memory (and this post) was a far more recent re-read: the audiobook version of The Cartographers, by Peng Shepherd. I first listened to it last spring, while stripping Matsya’s varnish, and it provided the perfect level of distraction for a rather monotonous spring maintenance job. There was absolutely no deadline for finishing the story; in fact, the longer it took me to get to The End, the better “bang for the buck” the recording provided. 

For those of you who haven’t read it, here’s a very quick summary (without spoilers): The daughter of an expert cartographer (who is also a cartographer herself) discovers an old highway map among her dead father’s possessions… and has to figure out why it meant so much to him.

When a member of our local book group suggested The Cartographers for our October gathering, I was excited to dive back into a book I’d enjoyed so much the first time. Six months is definitely long enough for my brain to lose the details of a novel, so I wasn’t worried I’d find it boring even though I knew how it ended. And I was freshly able to appreciate the steady dropping of breadcrumb clues that the author left for the reader. 

But this time, there was that looming deadline: must finish by next book club meeting. And without the busy hands of a time-consuming boat project, all those densely detailed descriptions seemed to go on for far too long. Even the first time through, the conclusion of each scene was usually somewhat predictable; now I found myself willing the author to “get to the point already!” 

Again: same great plot, same meaty characters, same delicious sentences—but a drastically different head-space.

There’s no solution to this, of course. But as I watch a fifth book go out into the world, my own varied responses to the same story are a timely reminder: how readers react to my stories (whether fact or fiction) will always be affected as much by what’s going on inside their heads as by what’s actually between the covers. The trick is to write something timeless, the “truth” as I perceive it—and then to enjoy the sparks of whatever reader responses that brings. 

Have you reread a book recently (maybe even one I wrote!) and had a totally unexpected reaction? Share your thoughts in the comments below, or send along an email. 

And don’t forget to join sailors, history buffs, and happy-ending-lovers for a discussion about 100 Years of Gold Stars (and my other books) at Curiosity&Co this Saturday. 430pm, and it’s free; register here!

For more thoughts about audiobooks (including proper verb usage), read Audiobooks: A World of Their Own

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100 Years of Gold Stars: Booksigning October 22

I’ve got great news: my very first author event for 100 Years of Gold Stars is on the calendar! Curiosity&Co, Jamestown’s own community bookstore and wine bar, is hosting an author event for me on Saturday, October 22 @430pm. They’ll have books and wine for sale, and I’ll be signing copies and sharing stories. 

I know I’ve been posting a lot about this project lately, but having it out in the world at last is like sending a fifth child off to college AND buying another boat—all on the same weekend. It’s also the perfect intersection of Where Books Meet Boats: a written history about the oldest one design class that still holds a world championship. So of course I’m excited! 

(And to everyone who’s asked, “Where can I buy that Star book?” there is now a bricks-and-mortar answer.)

You can RSVP for October 22 on the Curiosity website. Attendance is free, but advance notice will help the incredible Curiosity staff plan for the event. If you can’t join the party but want to buy a copy of 100 Years of Gold Stars (or any of my other books), stop by the store during their regular business hours. 

Got a suggestion about which Star stories I should share that afternoon? Add it to the comments below, or send me an email. So many stories, so little time…

Thanks all, and I can’t wait to see many of you in person on October 22!

Read more about 100 Years of Gold Stars

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Building Cool Stories Right: Words + Edits = Magic

Recently I got an email from the folks at Seahorse Magazine about a story I wrote that said, “To my eye it’s the best piece we’ve published this year.” That feels pretty good! 

Of course, even an article that the same email called “magnificent” is only as good as the subject, editing, and graphics—which brings me to the topic of this post, the magic fairy dust of collaboration. I usually think of writing as something I do on my own; today, I’m thanking others for making a good story with my byline into a really cool piece.

Here’s how it worksSeahorse asks me to write about a particular topic, providing a fairly detailed brief—and a generous deadlineI interview the key people, preferably in personI write the story, striving for distinctive but without straying too far from the original outlineI submit my version—hopefully before that generous deadline

Within a day, I receive a “Thanks Carol!” email. Then, if I’ve done my job well… the crickets of silence begin.

Months later…

I’ve learned to actively forget about stories once they’ve been accepted, so by the time I see the final result it’s almost like reading it for the first time—even if not a single word has been changed. And what a treat to see how much more impact my words have when combined with the right graphics! 

Juicy Story

This particular piece was about Moore Bros, a “bespoke carbon composite” company; great subject, check. But I was quite surprised to find the editors had added a lot of extra background and detail to what I’d submitted. Those of you who read this blog regularly will notice far more technical language than I’m capable of on my own… and I definitely can’t take any credit for the deep-dive into the history of ground-effect aircraft. So I followed up to ask if I should’ve done more digging. “Your core piece was excellent,” they wrote back, “and the story just too juicy for us to resist chasing them for more info!” 

Collaboration Magic 

Writing may seem like a solo pursuit, but this was a great reminder that my best work comes about when others add in their own ten pence as well. Editing is much, much easier than starting with a blank page—and it’s my words that got this “magnificent” party started. So here’s to the alchemy of cool subject + writing + editing + graphic design! Maybe Seahorse couldn’t have published their “best piece of the year” without me—but to that I say, “right back atcha.”

To fully appreciate the layout, here’s a PDF of the story. (It may be easier to read on the Seahorse website. ) You can also subscribe and get your very own copy of the October issue!

Previous Seahorse articles

Speaking of subscribing, this blog list is growing and thanks for your comments. Let me know what you think of this latest piece, either below or by email… and I promise to keep you posted on all the exciting stuff that’s currently in progress.

The post Building Cool Stories Right: Words + Edits = Magic appeared first on Carol Newman Cronin.

The Unique “Blah” of Post-Regatta Hangovers

When I get home from a big regatta—even one that didn’t require any major travel adventure—I always spend a few days feeling… blah. My usual ambition and direction desert me, making it impossible to focus on anything important. Over the years, I’ve learned to focus on menial tasks: unpacking, doing laundry, skimming through event photos… or just staring vacantly into the refrigerator. And after a few nights of good sleep and normal routine, the joy and motivation of my quiet everyday world inevitably return. 

I always assumed that this regatta hangover stemmed from physical exhaustion, but a few weeks ago I had two days of the blahs after the Star World Championship—and I didn’t even sail! So it must be just the sudden screech of deceleration from high-speed, adrenaline-filled days back to slower-paced normalcy… which can happen, apparently, even after a regatta I attended as an author. 

The Great Pause of 2020-21 gave us all a bit too much time for quiet contemplation (overlaid with worry and uncertainty), so it was an absolute joy to once again experience firsthand the excitement of an important sailing championship. And since true happiness for me is a balance between getting out in the world and taking time to reflect on my experiences, I’m going to relearn those rusty gear-shifting skills so I can better transition between excitement and quiet after future regattas—even if that means staring into a vacant fridge for a day or two.

As I consciously recalibrate from “blah” back to brightness, tell me about you—have you experienced this “regatta hangover,” which actually has nothing to do with alcohol and much less to do with physical exhaustion or jetlag than I previously thought? Share your comments below, or send me an email. I read every one, with gratitude.

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Star World Championship: 3 Stories of International Friendship

Last week, I met several of the Star World champions I’d interviewed for 100 Years of Gold Stars—as well as some of the younger sailors who will undoubtedly make their own history in the second century of the class. It was the first time I’d gone to a regatta as author rather than as sailor, a strangely wonderful collision of two very different worlds.

It was also rather spine-shiveringly strange, like visiting Mr. Rodgers’ Neighborhood, or Sesame Street—or Cooperation Island. All those legends whose voices I’d tried to capture on paper; now I could actually shake their calloused hands!

All the sailors were (of course) focused on that day’s performance or the next day’s weather forecast, so it wasn’t the right time or place to share my long-term perspective on why their class continues to prosper. So while it’s fresh, I’d like to share those thoughts with everyone who was lucky enough to compete in such a fabulous championship—as well as with anyone else who’s still reading.

Matias Capizzano captures Jud Smith (and crew) on the windiest day of the week. Learning from Your Star Ancestors

Dear 2022 Star Worlds competitors: Thank you for your warm welcome last week. It was an honor to sign so many copies of 100 Years of Gold Stars—even if many of you will never actually read it! 

Seeing so many different generations and different nationalities united under one flag made me better understand why this Class is the oldest one design that still holds a world championship. The Star is a very hard boat to sail well, and for the past century sailors just like you have lined up together to see who’s mastered it best. 

But the true Gold Star of any Star Worlds is international friendship, something each and every one of you “won” last week. Here are three quick stories from your world-class history that, to me, best exemplify this most valuable aspect of Star sailing. 

1930s Kiel1939: Keeping it Flexible

Imagine arriving in Kiel, Germany, on the cusp of World War II, and finding your very detail-oriented hosts—many already in uniform—warmly welcoming 21 teams from soon-to-be-enemies like the USA, Holland, and Britain (as well as Italy and Sweden). Walther von Hutschler successfully defended the championship (with Egon Beyn), but in hindsight his most significant contributions took place off the water. Here are three ways Walther was a true friend:

He helped several American teams get out of Europe after the regattaHe carried the trophy to South America, saving it from certain lossHe filed “incomprehensible” minutes from the Annual meeting, which later provided a valid excuse for rejecting a crazy proposal: to throw out all measurement rules! Bill Buchan/Steve Erickson1985: Friends in High Places 

A surprising number of you also sailed the Worlds 37 years ago in Nassau, which was won by Bill Buchan. But other than Bill’s grandson Jamie, I’m guessing most younger sailors haven’t yet heard how Bill and Steve Erickson somehow stepped a new mast out on the choppy race course of Montagu Bay. A hurricane had forced a two-race day in a strong easterly, and when these regatta leaders broke their mast halfway through the first race they both thought it was the end. Instead, friends in a speed boat appeared; Steve rushed ashore to pick up their spare mast, while Bill stayed behind to clean up. Despite the wind and chop, they managed to get the spare stepped and rigged and sails up just in time for the second race of the day; the next day, they won Bill’s third world championship (and Steve’s second). 

After racing, Bill asked regatta chair John Rumsey how long he would’ve waited to start that second race. “He said, ‘As long as it took to get your mast stepped.’ He’d just sort of dragged his feet,” Bill explained, adding, “It’s good having friends in high places!” 

PS Bill Buchan has written an excellent book called Star Fever, a must-read for all Star sailors.

Bruno Prada and Augie Diaz (2016 Star World Champions)2011: Three Spares Are Not Enough

Bruno Prada, you are amazing. You have won the Worlds five times, with three different skippers—AND you are the ultimate friend to other sailors, freely sharing both knowledge and equipment. Which is why the story you told me about the 2011 Worlds in Perth, Australia, made me so happy. All four of the masts you sent to the regatta were broken when the delivery van took a corner too sharply… and you (rightly) didn’t trust the shipper’s promises to deliver more masts halfway around the world in time for racing. So you made a deal with Xavier Rohart, to borrow one of their rigs—in exchange for first pick of the spares, once they arrived. If you hadn’t already proved yourself as a great boat park buddy, you and Robert Scheidt might not have even sailed the Worlds that year—and the two of you certainly wouldn’t have won your second Gold Stars.

What Lasts

In any one-design class, sails and masts and even the best built boats don’t last forever—but friendships formed by adversity do. And that’s something each and every sailor was able to take home from the incredible Worlds of 2022. While I can’t promise that repeating these stories will help anyone avoid breaking a mast or losing a future championship, I’m absolutely sure that this longer-term perspective will help everyone better appreciate the lasting strength of worldwide friendships. 

Thanks to the incredibly resilient Star Class for choosing me to write this book (and sharing these photos). Here’s to another 100 Years of Gold Stars!

Read more

Five Surprising Reasons to Buy My Next Book

The Gold Star of Writing Projects

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