There was this deckhand I really admired. Lets call him Jimmy. He shipped out with the Woodshole Oceanographic Institute and NOAA when he could. We worked on Naushon Island. He worked on the ferry and I was a farmhand/cook. Jimmy had a punching bag in the barn where I had set up my painting studio. Jimmy was a thinker and he had written a book but he liked to punch that bag. He'd punch the bag with gloves on and skip rope. I liked looking at him and I liked listening to him.

The wind was violent the day we went to Cuttyhunk for the town meeting and there was a real bad chop. Jimmy just lay on the deck in his rain gear and puked over the side. Later that night in the t.v room I said, "Jimmy how come you got sick? did you eat something bad?"
"No I always get sick." He said.
"Well you ship out all the time. I mean you dont get sick then do you? you always work on boats."
"Yeah Lore" he said, "I do and I always get sick. absolutely sick. I hate the fuckin sea."