January 2008

Dear Friends,

Happy New Year! December has come and gone so fast!

Getting to Ocean Reef for Vintage Weekend was frantic. The varnish was drying on the John Trumpy Award as I loaded it in the truck for the drive. Stephen is a true artist and I had to almost pry it from his hands. Bernard our painter, sprayed each part and Don T. did the fastening together. My job was simply to deliver and present it. Ocean Reef presented the first John Trumpy Award in 2005. Since this is the Southeast's premier antique and classic show it is only fitting that the award match the event. It was graciously accepted and will mark this occasion hopefully for many years to come. Enclosed is a photo.

December is a frantic month at Moores Marine. Everyone who works for me knows that Jim is a mad man, especially during the holidays. Pick up your pace or move out of the way. That is no joke! It went like this: Kip finished the stem welding, Jon and George installed the sheer clamps at the stem and installed the ribs above the top sides. Kip and Dave built the aft tank supports and lock downs. Hopal and Rich finished the last bottom ribs. The engine room was stripped and we started installing high-tech sound dampening, and then the planking with Jimmy, Mike, Hopal and Rich. At the shop, we had to prepare for our annual Christmas party and take inventory before we could shut down. Then, it was getting in the car and off we went to North Carolina for Christmas, some 880 miles.

It took me three days to slow down once I got to North Carolina but it was very much worth it. Our neighbors L.J. and Mary Hardy have adopted our family. I hope their real family isn't jealous. They had us over for Christmas dinner and two days later made a feast of shrimp and oysters. Stephanie swears that the shrimp out of the Pamlico Sound are the best that she has ever had, even compared to shrimp from Key West and Biloxi, Mississippi. As for me, well I think I need to taste a lot more!

Across the street from our cottage is the ark, an 80-90 foot boat that was started 20 years or so ago and has grown into the trees. She is listing to starboard and leaning into the woods. The boat among the trees is how we found South River, L.J. and Miss Mary and the house we own on the river. It is a little sad that the ark is slowly going away. She caught my eye and made me stop long enough to see the beauty of South River. While I am still talking about North Carolina, I have to mention how proud I am of Nathan Smith, my brother-in-law. He has made M.M.Y.C. come to life. With the Innisfail project in full swing, we made a postcard of what and who M.M.Y.C. has been up to since opening in April. I think that when you see it you will agree it's impressive.

To me the holidays are to remember good friends here and those who are now gone. I want to share a story that makes me smile every time I tell it, about my great, late, friend Burt Willcox, so here goes! It was 1978 or 79 in Maine. The penny jar was empty, my mom Jacqueline Moores came to town (Lubec, Me). I had built an apartment in the old wood loft of my boat shop. The R.S. Colson Boat Works. She showed up with presents from Boulder, Colorado. She knew it was cold and she went to Eddie Bauer and bought German duck down comforters for my family and for me a beautiful goose down jacket. This jacket was too nice to work in so it hung by the door most of the time. One day in the spring Burt, my neighbor and friend, came pounding on the door. I got up, it was 5:30 a.m. maybe 6:00 a.m. "Burt" I said "What's wrong?" With a mischievous look in his eyes he said, "Jesus, Jimmy, we are going egging. Let's go"! It was too early for me to question him so I got dressed and put on my new jacket, hopped in Burt's truck and headed out on the road towards South Lubec.

As we went up over the hill on South Lubec Road, Burt's three-speed jammed and I had to lay on the ground to get the linkage unjammed. As I crawled out from under the truck my new jacket was no longer that new. We passed the dump and turned on to the Pike's land. We drove to where the road ended. There was Quobe Cove in front of us. Burt got out and handed me two peck, clam-carrier baskets. I looked at Burt "egging???" I was barely awake. Burt pointed to a path and instructed me to go up on the granite cliffs and pick up seagull eggs. They were fresh, he said. I looked at Burt but he was so matter of fact that off I went while he waited. Burt was a little old to climb granite. Climbing up the path and the cliff was easy since I was in my twenties, then. There were hundreds of nests. Now Maine has the biggest seagulls I have ever seen. They are twice, maybe even three times as large as southern gulls. So when I came up on the cliff tops all the birds took off. This was going to be easy. So I thought until I put my hands on the first egg then it was more like Hitchcock's "The Birds". They came down and bit me so I pulled my coat over my head. Now I was running from nest to nest with the gulls pecking my back. The more nests I touched, the madder the birds became. I filled the two peck baskets and ran down the narrow path. I was hot and scared from the run and kept looking back. When I got to the truck it was running. I set the eggs in the back and we drove away. It was finally quiet. Burt asked, "Were there lots of eggs? I looked at him and said, "Jesus, Burt those birds almost ate me alive"! Burt looked at me and said, "Son, those eggs are worth the effort".

We got back to the shop and I got out and walked into the shop. Burt came after me, "Don't you want your eggs?" The sun was rising, so I thought I would make breakfast for everybody still asleep. Getting the frying pan warm, I scrambled up the eggs and poured them into the pan. I thought I would make omelets. As the eggs cooked, they had a gamey smell to them. The coffee was on and when they were ready I put some of Burt's smoked herring in to cook. I took a big bite. As the omelet touched my tongue, there was a horrible taste in my mouth. I could not swallow, it was that bad. I called Burt, madder than a hornet. "Burt, those eggs are horrible and this was a bad joke"! Burt said, "Well how did you cook them?" So I told him, then there was a long pause. Then he said "Did you separate the yokes and just keep the eggs whites? Jim you know that they make the best meringue pie"! I never went egging again. If I had asked Burt what egging was about I may have never went. I sewed up the holes in the back of my jacket and I started walking every cold day to work until it was warm out. Burt's wife Dotty heard the story, so she baked me one of the best meringue pies I ever had. I have told this story many times, old Burt taught me many things and I still miss him. I think of all the great people I have met through the years and adventures I've had during this time of year. Almost every time I sit down to have eggs for breakfast I just smile and shake my head thinking of old Burt. So if I ever say have I told you my egging story, you can say "Burt Willcox right??

Until next time,

Jim Moores