WEATHER, OR NOT!
NEWSLETTER FOR JUNE 2026
WEATHER, OR NOT!
“Whether it’s cold . . .. Whether it’s hot . . ..
We have to have weather . . .. whether or not!
Doobie do-be-do-be-do!”
(KOA Denver Radio weather girl’s ditty in 1980s)
On this past Memorial Day weekend, I celebrated, as I often do, by sailing with my husband—and twenty-five other boats—up the long stretch from the South Bay, past the San Francisco waterfront and Alcatraz, before ducking behind Angel Island to avoid getting blown to bits! The sharp, cold westerly winds which sweep through the Golden Gate shrieked past us in order to slam into the Berkeley Hills before continuing to the Sierras.
Sailing into sunshine as we skirted the waterfront of San Francisco
but hit bitter winds and rough waters before the Golden Gate Bridge
then the waters calm as we sail into Sausalito and all within an hour and a couple of nautical miles. WEATHER!!
May is always a formidable time of year in the Bay Area, as the weather changes constantly, and this particular holiday weekend is always ‘risky business'!’ Due to past experiences, we tend to stow woolies to wet suits to swimsuits to shorts on board ship . . . just in case. We are prepared! But are we really? Weather will always tell the story.
Growing up in Nebraska, the end of May meant sitting through hot sticky classrooms awaiting school’s end. Then, as freedom presented itself on a glorious Memorial Day, having marched to the local cemetery in my Camp Fire Girl’s togs, with summer plans stretched boldly out before us, we would get. . . Ah, yes, cool rains would intercede by licking at the windows and streaming off the gutters, as we five kids, pent up by Mother Nature, would be stuck inside our house—much to our earthly mother’s chagrin. Summer had arrived!
Weather has always played a significant role for me, as living on the wide-open prairies gave no protection or respite from—yes, those wild winds (and tornadoes) which would barrel in from the West. The art of “reading” the sky and the clouds came to me way before I knew I could be a sailor. Close encounters with weather, I believe, can help form one’s psyche.
I remember once on a summer’s night in Nebraska, when my folks were out for the evening, my older sister and I were to oversee my three ‘hooligan’ brothers and keep them safe. Instead, we brought them outside to flaunt the weather. Even though a tornado siren had blasted through the tranquility of our small town, we remained outdoors. We were dancing! We were dancing wildly -- on top of our picnic table. It was a challenge. Who could stay on the table top the longest!
As I recall the sky had turned dark, even though it was early evening. Then, bright yellow clouds skated across the skies overhead. “Hail’s falling nearby,” I said with a cavalier tone. I might not know much as an eight-year-old, but I learned early about Nebraska skies. When the sky turns pea green, a tornado is imminent.
Ah, but our ‘Devil May Care’ attitude kept us dancing, dancing on the picnic table while storm clouds whirled overhead. The contest was to see who could stay on top of the table the longest. The challenge was to keep dancing until a crack of lightning was seen. Then dive under the table before we heard the sound of thunder. “One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three . . .” we counted how many miles away we thought the lightning had struck. Then, with squeals of laughter, we dived or danced, as it began to rain. Somehow, we survived the wilds of our crazy weather and childhood. (You’ll have to query my three younger brothers, though.)
Meanwhile, back in Sausalito, after motoring up to the docks lined with fellow boaters, I peeked out of our hatch, as others caught our lines, and made us fast. The icy winds, which came running down Richardson Bay straight into our boat, were brutal. Yikes! I dived back down into the boat and battened down the hatches. It might be almost summer on the calendar, but those winds were raw and forbidding! I was even hesitant to pop back up when ‘docktail time’ rolled around. Ah, but even I can’t pass up the appetizers, drinks and camaraderie of good friends served with a tether on the docks!
So, where was that brazen little girl from Nebraska, you ask? That ‘devil may care’ girl who hooted at the wind? Was she just a ‘fair weather’ kind of girl? Or, one who braved the elements? My mantra: different strokes for different folks!
That night, while comfortably tucked into our boat, the wind began to howl, shove, and butt heads with our dock! The halyards on nearby boats clanged but then went silent. Oddly enough, the wind’s rhythm was lyrical to listen to. Lusty, then calm; lusty then calm. Through the overhead hatches, I caught sight of the darkness only to be eclipsed by wraith-like clouds skating merrily past. It wasn’t a fearsome experience. I felt like we were one with the wind; one with the weather. (Easy to say, when you are snuggled down in a comforter and pajamas.)
What weather would we face on the follow three days? Actually, just about everything from rain, fog, bright patches of sunlight, and strong cold winds interspersed with lighter winds and moments of actual warmth! Yes, this is Sausalito during a Memorial Day weekend living up to her glory!
“Whether it’s cold . . .. Whether it’s hot . . ..
We have to have weather . . .. whether or not!
Doobie do-be-do-be-do!”
Just in case you have been following the follies of my CWC Book Fair, yes, it did take place on May 17th at Sequoia Yacht Club with published authors from three CWC branches. (Next Fall, there may be more!) And it was a huge success! We were privileged to hear from memoirists, non-fiction authors, prose and poets, historical AND graphic novelists, and even a musician who serenaded us with her music and an award winning video! Oh, my! Each of their stories was spectacular!
I told them (since I was the host), that I had been reading the novel, Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson. I had heard that the book had been a recommendation from Barak Obama, who had mentioned that when he was newly campaigning for president, he happened to pick it up on a lark in an Iowan bookstore. The book, he said, was so compelling that he, and I paraphrase here, “ . . . informed every important decision I made while in the White House.” I told the audience that their stories, too, have weight and to never underestimate the power of the written word. Obviously, the book shook me to the core, as the storyline fit very neatly into the history of my own family. Ah, the power of the written word! Read a book . . . even if its not one of mine!
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