Let's get the background out of the way, so that this story has some context. I'll try to keep it brief.
I grew up in southwest Florida, on brackish rivers that led to the Gulf, and kind of in the swamp. I spent my childhood playing in the water, swimming in canals, dodging alligators and canoeing.
As soon as I reached the age of majority, I enlisted in the Navy and served in various capacities for 20 years, always on or near the sea. For my last few years of service, I harbored the illusion that I was sick to death of water, and would move to the mountains.
I took a civilian job in the DC Metro area, and hated it (the area). I wanted to return to Florida, but as my father once said "You can't make a living down here doing anything except being unemployed". Essentially trapped by job security, and a good paycheck, I settled down near Annapolis and discovered that I wasn't sick of the water after all.
What I was tired of, was serving another Master on the water. The Navy, and it's Captains. 20 years made me a competent boat driver. I can navigate, operate radar and properly use radios, I know the rules. I'll be my own master now, no matter how small and pitiful the vessel.
As Milton said in Paradise lost, "Better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven".
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