I’m celebrating our nation’s independence with my own. I could use some fireworks. I woke up that morning like an excited kid ready to go fishing with his grandpa. I brewed coffee, toasted some raisin bread, had a glass of orange juice, made two peanut and jelly sandwiches for later, and cleaned the galley to a sparkle. “Senile, my ass,” I said aloud with the final swipe of cloth over the gleaming stainless steel stove top, all burners off. Old Charlie Lambert was fit and ready to take off. I was no longer in my eighties. I was in my thirties, full of piss and vinegar, determination and hope. Dutifully, I went down my checklist: stow everything, check engine oil, inspect the water separator, eyeball the bilge for any water, turn off propane, turn off shore power and disconnect power cord stowing same in aft locker, switch on navigation system, auto pilot, radar, instruments, activate VHF and get weather report, start engine and check engine instruments. Who wouldn’t be excited?
