Meeting David

In one of those strange little coincidences that make you believe in fate, I was enjoying a beer after working a long day rigging Anthem in the Marina Rubicon in Lanzarote when who should walk in and sit down at the next table but David S. David and I and a third friend were inseparable for a couple of summers in our early pre-drivers-license teens. We hung out on the Falmouth waterfront messing around in boats, riding bikes, and generally goofing off as was customary for those of our age in those years.

We drifted apart shortly thereafter, but I would occasionally meet or hear of him - enough to know that he led quite an interesting life. He headed a notorious local mortorcycle gang for a bit, shipped out in the merchant marine, spent at least a few years cruising the caribbean with his wife in a Whitby 45 and ended up as a yacht broker for S&S.

He was in Lanzarote helping a friend deliver a big Swan from the Med to the Caribbean. It was great to see him and catch up with the last couple of decades of his life. He and his wife are now living on a farm in the Carolina mountains.

What made the coincidence even more remarkable is that only a couple of weeks before leaving for the Canaries I had run into Mark F., the third member of our young gang of three. I've also been aware of Mark, who has morphed into a Christian fundamentalist and crusader against the inroads of the gay 'agenda' into our local life.

That I should see both of them in the space of 2 weeks thousands of mile apart when I hadn't seen either of them to speak to for a couple of decades was striking. There seems to be some kind of time storm brewing here...