In acting and improv, there’s a principle known as “Yes, and…” The point is to affirm another actor’s perspective and/or portrayal as truth, and build the scene from there in light of their reality; recognizing that the converse “No, but” would close the doors of possibility, not to mention disempower your fellow actor.
As many of you know, I’m returning from three months of parental leave with our second born, who is now seven months old. And you may be asking yourself, “Joe took some time off from the boating magazine, and now he wants to talk about… improv technique?” Not exactly. I haven’t donned a costume and tried to act since high school theater, but I still remember learning about this idea and appreciate it to this day. I keep thinking about applying the words in a different, though not entirely unrelated, context. To me, the offstage spirit of “Yes, and” is the acknowledgement, even encouragement, that more than one thing can be true. That our lives and time and identities and interests don’t exist singularly in a vacuum, and that there’s little benefit in arbitrarily distilling or oversimplifying the inherent complexities and incongruencies in ourselves and others.
Over the past few months, I’ve been almost exclusively Dad. When I’m with my kids—at least in their respective infant and toddler stages—there’s not a lot of room for anything else. Parenting is wonderful, enchanting, and all-consuming. The rest of the world can wait… it’ll have to, ‘cause I’m busy.
In these cherished months when being Dad defines my day-to-day, it’s been a welcome surprise when I stumble across intermittent reminders of who I also am. Of my sailor self, my musician self, or my professional self. Of my husband and brother and son and friend selves. Of my bike rider, canoe paddler, wilderness enthusiast, grillmaster, and photographer selves. To embrace these parts of my life does not detract from my
dad-dom. It’s not zero-sum. It’s “Yes, and…”
This has been one of the best things about coming back to work at 48° North—the occasion to say, “Oh yeah, I do this. This is me, too.”
“Yes, and” has so many applications in the world of boats. Too many people are too eager to declare themselves just one thing when it comes to boats—cruiser, racer, powerboater, sailor, coach, fisherman, adventurer. Far be it from me to throw a wet blanket on another person’s fire of passion—if it’s all fishing and absolutely nothing else for you, awesome! But even people who are comparatively specialized are probably reaping rewards and developing diverse skills that make them far more well-rounded than they feel. Do they love their Salish Sea surroundings any less than a cruiser? Optimize less than a racer? Relish the freedom of putting the throttle down and pointing the boat wherever they wish more than a pleasure boater? One of the attributes of seamanship I prize most highly is a mariner who is well-rounded.
Another favorite “Yes, and” in boating applies to the card carrying, flag waving sailors who have never and may never own their own boat. These folks befuddle those who would like to boil down the boat world to sales metrics. They make our community richer, and enable a lot of sailing that would have been difficult or impossible for boat owners to accomplish shorthanded. These people aren’t boat owners—yes, and they are unquestionably sailors.
Racers who love to cruise, power captains whose passion is sailing, salt-crusted adventurers who dig a swanky stateroom, big boat sailors who crush it in dinghies, lifelong boatfolk who still daydream like novices about where their craft might someday bring them… As we wrap up 2024, let’s embrace our “Yes, ands” at sea and ashore.
