I hope to see everyone in a couple weeks as the traditional inaugural Spring weekend unfolds. No doubt we have lots of maintenance work scheduled for the morning and early afternoon. Letï¿½s look sea worthy wearing all whites for our ceremony and meeting, as requested, not suggested, in the fine print, to honor our club and itï¿½s members. Come on , man. White or off white polos, stripes, polka dots, etc. with khaki pants or colored denim are tacky, people.
I suppose the meeting will focus on spending issues. There is talk of funding a massive effort this year to build up and raise our eroding break water barriers to protect our beautiful docks from the higher waters sure to return. A few of the other big ticket items include; the remaining fingers to deck; more flotation for all the fingers; the dinghy dock is looking sad; and, there is the electrical service few dare to mention. Your thoughts and desires should be expressed to the Flags and Board on how we schedule completion of our goals within our budget constraints.
Splash Day began about 8:00 a.m. on a delightfully mild Saturday morning when over 20 high stepping volunteers were greeted with coffee, juice and sweet rolls. Thatï¿½s when we started to party down, dancing to the enthusiastic beat of bandleader, Alan Holmes.
Lots of locomotion was witnessed at the installation of new rub rail at all the finished slips and demolition of some remaining, once white, vinyl pieces. I noticed the back sides of Rod Reichert, Kelly McCann, Jay Adams, Bob Hines, Edd Onofrey and numerous others bent over the finger edges, drills in hand, carefully aligning and attaching our sexy new trim.
Chris Carney, again this year, choreographed a large, predominately female, reel of gloved groomers consisting of Janelle Hamby, Linda Thoreson, Nancy Dickerson, Gail McCann, Robbie Beck, Doug Fundam and Bob Jarvis who hopped from beach to beach snatching up the discarded mess from our club walkway, berms, parking lot, driveways and surrounding areas.
Bob Beck power washed the dock boxes, sail folding dock and steel framing, while Steve Schmidt, Vicki Gray and new member Richard Dickerson followed up with soap and bristle brushes slip-sliding away. Doug Johnson, Dana Otte, Alan Holmes, Steve Brandley and Walter Pipkin got their groove on stretching the stored striped canvas bimini section over the frames above the work bench to replace the tatters that remained of the former storm worn cover.
Grill Miester, Bill Thoreson, replaced old burners and knobs with an overhaul of the existing gas grill, El Diablo. Some may remember that scorching hot summer day last year when the Beast flamed out of control due to either ruptured venturi tubes or Satanï¿½s spell. Anyway, Bill assures me that all is holy, once again, and that we only need have fear of the Lord or of Alan calling another work party.
Commodore Louis Boyd preformed a preventative lube job and visual inspection of the hoist. He did take some time to recall his successful 40 plus radiation episodes to treat an enlarged cancerous prostate, complete with a dramatic dual golden rod insertion coming from the south end where other water boarding-like tortures were repeated. Ouch. I may not pï¿½ again. His prognosis is good though. Now, letï¿½s get back to the hoist news. Louis says itï¿½s time for a new ï¿½ï¿½ high strength cable as well as a deep sanding and protective painting of the plywood cover.
Speaking of episodes, the Plater was seen, close by and face down, on the docks. That, in of itself, is not uncommon or newsworthy, but this time I have confirmed sources with pictures that revealed he wasnï¿½t actually unconscious. He and Mark Fueling teamed up to replace some rusted bolts underneath the hinged ramp connection to the hoist dock. Good work, Steve.
About noon, all the hungry partiers queued up for the customary sandwich buffet of various luncheon meats and cheeses with breads, spreads and all the fixinï¿½s. The tradition was preserved in fine style. Yours truly designed, for my personal consumption, a tall Dagwood of smoked turkey slices, Swiss, onion, lettuce, tomato and olive oil mayonnaise on fresh pumpernickel rye. Yummy! Cheetoï¿½s, potato and tortilla chips and Tootsieï¿½s brownies rounded out the groceries. After the meal, everyone was dismissed until 4:00(?) p.m. for the Opening Ceremonies and General membership Meeting. Iï¿½ll comment on that later.
After lunch and before the ceremony, Mark did indeed sell his Catalina 25 to a couple from the City who will drag it to Lake Hefner for use in giving practical sailing lessons. That reminds me. Our own Bob Beck, a Catalina 30 racing champion and bearded Freudian style doctor, recently announced that he has written and published a book on learning how to sail. It may be out of print, but I hear Robbie Beck could dredge up a copy buried in their Preston Point kennel for our perusal and enjoyment. Okay, Plater, I probably need to read it most of all. By the way, Mark informs me that he will relinquish his voting membership since family life pulls him away from Texoma, but he will maintain associate status for the near future.
About 4:00 p.m., if you can believe it, 12 or so stood dazzled as dapper Commodore Louis Boyd paraded out five flag officers in a, never before seen by this writer, white uniform. The blouse consisted of white oxford cotton button downs decorated over the right breast with a circular printed club emblem in blue and embroidered, over the left pocket, with personalized officerï¿½s name and, on the shoulder below the collar, with CCYC block letter initials. Complementing the official shirt were solid white baseball caps, navy blue belts and white cotton pants of varying style. Foot ware and hosiery was left to individual discretion.
And, not to be over-shadowed by the style guru, it was pleasing to see the predominate choice of membersï¿½ dress to be reminiscent of the innocentsï¿½ attire sitting in the front pews at First Communion mass. The colored denim or khaki clad heretics were few and standing near the back of the line.
The ceremony, this go around, exhibited several notable variances from the past. First of all, we need to pick a time and stick to it. Hello. Is anybody home? The printed information online and in the mailer listed 4:30 p.m. as the start time. I overheard a certain commodore say 4 oï¿½clock sharp, talking after lunch, otherwise I would have missed the start. Several of our members did arrive after the big show and were consequently late for the general membership meeting as well. Come on, man.
Now, aside from the early start and the jiffy Flag uniforms, a new face, the all white frocked Reverend Richard Dickerson, delivered a properly humble, yet spiritual blessing of our fleet recalling a Genesis verse describing the Creator separating land and seas on the third, or was it forth, day. I couldnï¿½t help, taking that metaphor to an extreme, wondering to myself; ï¿½If His example of six days of work parties followed by only one day of rest was now gospel at CCYC?ï¿½
Speaking of Rear Commodore Holmes, he amazed the assembled membership and guests with snappy and dexterous ensign and burgee raisings in the stiff wind. This integral part of our club ritual has, to my recollection, been less than sharp, if not comical, over the years and I salute his mastery and artistry this year.
And, there was more of the same old same old, too. Iï¿½m talking about hecklers. The only speaking parts in our one act drama, other than Commodore, Vice Commodore and the prayer leader, are the group recitation of the ï¿½Pledge of Allegianceï¿½ and signing of the National Anthem. If you have something clever to say, you can write this column instead of me. Otherwise, put a cork in it till after we finish, please.
A properly printed copy of the agenda and the financial page were distributed to 20 members and others in attendance of the yearï¿½s first general membership meeting. The topics at hand were quickly sidelined until a proper accounting of the new Flag Officer duds was given. It seems Louis is raising the bar on ceremony this year to the envy of many. Several expressed interest in bringing back the printed tees, jackets, logo car tags, etc.
Much was discussed and one notable vote was taken to welcome the suddenly absent Dickersonï¿½s into the fold. Yï¿½all come back now, hear? Otherwise, it was all about rocks and docks. We need a few loads on the southwest breaker; some grooming on the west levee; and, we need to party on, Garth, at the remaining wood fingers. We already hear you calling, Holmes. One exciting tidbit had to do with Marshall Countyï¿½s possible plans to assume maintenance of the road. Even Okies gottaï¿½ love big government, once in a while.
Kudos rightfully belong to the tireless webmaster. Our 21st century presence on the world wide internets, due in most part to Bill Thoreson, has attracted two suspects to the call of the wild or, you may say, membership in our little club. Unfortunately, that brings up an unpleasant subject: too many empty slips. Membership is, for some reason, dwindling down to a precious few. I mentioned Mark, earlier, and I also wrote of Vickiï¿½s intent to sell in last yearï¿½s rants. And, I have heard rumors of several more who could abandon ship once they unload their own ship. Yeah, Iï¿½m talking Greveï¿½s, Onofreyï¿½s and Hambyï¿½s. The paid up Kingï¿½s no longer have a boat and are rare sightings at Club events. Not to mention the Paulï¿½s, who have plans to sail in bluer waters, as well as vibes from the Plater about making Paradiseï¿½s home port on some isle along the Carib coast of Belize. Whatï¿½s up with that?
What, me worry? Personally, I believe that itï¿½s always darkest before the dawn. Ours is a fragile existence, anyway, with a one of a kind Corps permit and so few determined and involved inland sailors. However, weï¿½ve got the coolest facility for sailing on the lake. That wonï¿½t change with 11 members or 31. And Texoma is a secret paradise itself. Iï¿½m here to stay. Now, if I can just get that rebuilt starter to crank... PLATER, HELP!!
If you stayed around for the meal and 30 plus did, you didnï¿½t leave disappointed or hungry. Tasty boiled pork and chicken with steamed spring vegetables cooked in stainless pots highlighted the menu and were served in huge warming trays about 7:00 p.m., a full hour after the advertized time. Donï¿½t get me started, butï¿½ come on, man. Somebody, read a schedule and buy a watch. Billï¿½s refurbished propane cooker was not the main tool, but did serve as a utilitarian French bread toaster/warmer. I canï¿½t wait to see what happens after the burgers start flipping large in early August. Yours truly prepared a Caesar salad with homemade dressing and croutons. Desserts (Yeppers, spelled double ï¿½sï¿½, web boy. You may need a dictionary. Look up salad while youï¿½re at it.) were plentiful and delicious. Pam-cakes Plater brought several. Who else overdosed on the cherry pie with homemade ice cream besides Chrissy and me?
Speaking of the Queen of Trash, our playful Irish lassie, Carney, another point I keep forgetting to mention is her little red can. I mean the one for reusable refuse. Reallyï¿½ on the sail folding dock. Seriously, Iï¿½m talking about the environment, people! It is way cool that we recycle. Spread the gospel with Green Girlie Girl to put your used up glass and plastic where you will make a difference for the planet.
Next up on the activities calendar for you fun seekers is the newly named ï¿½Race to Lunchï¿½ special viewing on Saturday morning, May 21st. This is a loose remake of the original ï¿½Race to the Pointï¿½ thriller with an uninspired, if not totally vague, title. I mean, are we just going to stop racing at noon, or are we sailing a course to some tangible destination? Anyway, like the predecessor, a rarely used call for seamanship is the plan. Louis, is there a dress code? Are you designing CCYC tees for sale? Unlike the former event, though, the goal isnï¿½t certain, or, at least not publishedï¿½ like in the actual title. So, stay tuned. It could be happening, dude. See you at the races.
And, like yours truly, itï¿½s past time to get your engines and sails serviced; empty the head at Soldier Creek; kill some spiders; read up on your racing rules; assemble your crew; and, get that racer/cruiser out of the cove and onto the lake. What we wonï¿½t do for a free burger with fries? Righteous, man.