Boats should look like boats, and churches like churches.
At their best, boats are an outward expression of an inner conversation about beauty and purpose (to paraphrase a furniture maker). A boat should make you want to run your hand along some part of it, and the right boat, as I have said before, should make you stop and turn as you walk away from it — and look back with longing.
In some cases, the determination is more straightforward than in others. A boat sinks quickly in horrendous conditions. The water is cold, the crew inexperienced, there is no life raft or survival suits, the last known position is vague.
It’s been a good year for looking back and visiting with old friends and colleagues, for remembering the early days when both life and boats moved a bit slower. With this issue, we wrap up our yearlong celebration of our 50th anniversary. I tip my hat and bid adieu, at least for a while, to the stories of Jack Turner, our iconic founder, who was one of those bright, complicated, busting-at-the seams characters you want to work with at least once in your career.
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