Wood Boats ain't nothin' but work.
Passers-by, admiring a meticulously curated wooden boat like Betty Jane, often say, "Wood boats ain't nothin' but work, nothing but work." But they were not raised by Mother.
"True beauty, the kind that comes from men and women applying lifetimes of experience and practice to create for the comfort and enjoyment of others, must be preserved in order to honor the Creator," Vivian said. "Don’t you think so?"
Chapter One, Upon a winter's night: Her ghost whispered to me, shivering in a boathouse on a frozen lake during a freak winter storm, "If not, it is lost forever, right? We’d be nothing but marauders."
Dale and I bought The King and I, a 1955 Chris-Craft cruiser sinking in its slip.
Mother also insisted that Beauty was the province of Taste and that Taste was subject to Place.
"She don't go through Harlem in ermine and pearls," nor did she ever teach a pig to sing. "It's a waste of your time, and it annoys the pig."
But Beauty does have place on Betty Jane's (née The King and I) new deckhouse floor where my dog likes to be.