The Badge

Okay, I don't know what the word is that would describe being sheepish and happy/proud at the same time.  What I really am is happy and proud, but afraid that if I admit it I'll be the object of lots of scorn and derision.  So I guess I feel self-protectively sheepish as well as proud.  Because it's a very silly thing.  That happens to mean a whole lot to me.

I was just elected to the board of the Portland Yacht Club.  I'm the Race Officer.  I was given a special badge with a crest, and in one of the cloverleafs of the gold braid on the crest (see, I told you this is silly) are the letters "RC" (for Race Committee).  I have to buy a blue blazer, and Nantucket Red pants or a skirt.  These look stupid on men, and will look even stupider on me.  I probably need to buy a neckerchief or scarf emblazoned with the club burgee.  It is about as silly and preppie as anything ever was.  And I'm so proud and excited. 

Being on the board means I'm a steward of this place I love more than anywhere else.  We looked at budget numbers and talked about replacement costs of docks and repair estimates for the road and membership dues and the parking crisis and our relationship with the neighbors, and I listened with wide eyes.  Should we build a new dinghy float?  How will we make the decision about whether we need a new launch?  Should the race committee boat fall under the waterfront committee's budget or the race officer's budget?  I'm telling you, my eyes did not glaze over for a minute (okay, only for a minute, when we were talking about amending the bylaws to reflect changes in membership categories).  This club is my home. 

Being Race Officer means I'm in charge of organizing a casual weekly beer can race every Thursday, and four big weekend events throughout the summer season, plus coordinating two or three other big regattas that will be primarily organized by local one-design fleets but will happen at the club.  I'll have to recruit, motivate, and manage a committee of about eight people; I'll have to find sponsorship and arrange trophies and throw parties and rustle up lots of volunteers and make them happy.  I'll have to be a peacemaker and an advocate, because in the club there's a history of some animosity between the members who love to race and those who don't, that plays out with political infighting and squabbling about money.  It's going to be a huge bunch of work and headaches and detail management and budgeting and wheedling.  And I was all smiles.   I'm excited to do it.   

My dad was race officer years ago.  My grandfather was on the board in his day.  He held a lot of positions, although I'm not sure whether he was the race officer or not.  I'm choosing to think that he was.  I love the club; I've been running around there my entire life, swimming in the water and riding the launches and looking at seals and learning how to race and, more than that, how to be confident and how to talk to grown-ups and how to be on a team and how to make people feel welcome and engaged.  I learned to sail there, and so did my dad and all of my aunts and uncles.  I want to take care of it and make it fun for other people, keep the dues down so young people at the beginning of their careers can afford to belong. 

I'm not sheepish at all, I guess, now that I write all of this.  I know yacht clubs are bastions of privilege and I guess having a boat at all makes me an out-of-touch elitist.  I know this is hardly a needy cause and I could be doing more meaningful things with all this time and love.  And I've known people whose connection to the yacht club was more about status and belonging and namedropping than about a true love of the water.  Those people make me cringe.  (Luckily there aren't many at this club.)  That's the last thing I want to be.  All of these are good reasons to think this is a silly silly thing to be involved with, let alone to get excited about, so I guess I feel nervous admitting how proud I am about this milestone.  But this place is my home.  I'm not happier than when I'm on the water, with others who love to be on the water.  I've been so lucky to know this place.  Inheriting my grandfather's mooring is a legacy that means more to me than perhaps anything else that's happened this year.  Being elected to the board feels like a bigger deal than, say, graduating at the top of my law school class.  This achievement recognizes something I've been doing my whole life -- being part of this community, and lending a hand when I can with friendliness and attention and competence.  The badge comes with responsibility to a group of people who care about the same things I do, who have watched me grow up and have confidence in me and trust me not to screw up.  I want to do a good job on the board.  I'm going to wear my ridiculous blue blazer and my stupid Nantucket Reds and my silly badge with the gold braid and the burgee and I'm going to laugh heartily with preppie wealthy white men and debate the merits of different kinds of outboard motors and I'm going to have a big delighted smile on my face the whole time. 

Comments

[matt]

oh, congratulations!

=D

[Hathy]

I found your blog through that article in Student Lawyer magazine about blogs...I'm from Maine, which I am perpetually homesick for (I'm a 2L at Rutgers-Newark.) So its great to read the comments of a lawyer living in Maine! I can't think of anyone off the top of my head that my family knows on the Portland Yacth Club, but there must be someone. Is Harold Pacious involved? I went to school with his son, Chris. Anyway, looking forward to reading about life in Maine -- from a lawyer's perspective -- on your blog!

[Michelle]

Awesome, congrats!

[Tokyo]

Congratulations!

I expect to see the awful blazer blogged. But it's all in the attitude with which you wear it. Much like, I imagine, martini-pants. I couldn't have spelled attitude correclty, could I?

[Shara]

Congrats!

My dad felt the same way when he was elected to the board of his club, honored to be part of guiding something he loved so much. He sounds so happy whenever he talks about his work there.

[pjm]

Bravo for not being sheepish about it. You can't live your life for what others think, despite the unfortunate tendency among many in our state to expect just that. (We've been big ones for casting out the black sheep - or just those who do better than their neighbors - for centuries.)

If all someone can see is the blazer and badge, they haven't been reading here long enough.

[Mazi]

Congratulations! I was raised sailing at various yacht clubs in Massachusetts and Maine with my parents and I understand the happiness of feeling like you have “grown up” enough to contribute effectively to the established sailing community. Unfortunately, the snob factor and name-dropping tendencies prevalent in so many larger clubs have driven me away from being involved in any yacht club. Your desire to change that from within is commendable, and I applaud your recognition of the problem. As you say, yacht clubs really ought to be about appreciating the ocean and fostering a community of people who wish to do that together. Not carping about who "appropriate" new members ought to be, and whose children have the bigger trust fund. I sincerely hope a younger generation, led by folks such as you, can make that change effectively.

[Scott]

Congrats! I just wanted to let the record show that I am a guy, and I have a pair of pants from j.crew that are "nantucket red" in color, and I have gotten plenty of compliments on them. Granted, I don't wear them with crested blazers, but whatever.

Also, I come from a family of sailors and yacht club-members, and I know what an honor this is. Plus, I'm sure it will be great fun. My aunt just came off a term as Commodore, and she even managed to have fun, despite having a bunch of administrative crap to do.

Finally, I got the CD and love it. I will email or write you about it more later, but I just wanted to say thanks.

[Al Nye]

Congrats!

That's wonderful and I'm happy for you.

Al Nye