How do you scratch an itch you don’t know you have?

On an unseasonably warm and pleasant January 2009 morning, I was sitting on the deck of my in-laws' lake house on Grand Lake in NE Oklahoma.  Their deck faces east and is blessed with the most brilliantly colored sunrises of the deepest orange, purple and red ... if you wake in time.  On this day, I was enjoying my second cup of coffee with my wife, Suzi.  It wasn't early, but the kids were still in bed and we enjoyed the silence.  The lake was empty, as it normally is this time of year.  The breeze was out of the north and our lake neighbor's well worn American flag was waving at no one in particular.  I briefly thought to myself that this would be a perfect day to go for a boat ride in our 30 foot Chris Craft power boat, but it was in winterized hibernation.  I took another sip of coffee and looked out over the mouth of the cove, towards the main lake.  I was surprised to see a sailboat.  It was a good distance away and I could not make out how big she was, but I noticed two black masts that were flying two triangular sails that were a muted gold color.  I later learned this particular boat was a "ketch."  I continued to watch over the next 20 minutes as she slid effortlessly, and ever so slightly tilted, eastward across the lake.  Her peaceful movement did not disturb the silence of the morning ... it enhanced it.  Had I not looked up, I would not have known she was even there (a stark contrast to the LOUD go-fast boats of summer).  I grabbed my binoculars and secretly watched from the deck.  I was mesmerized.  I could make out two men and one woman in the cockpit.  They too appeared to be enjoying a morning cup of coffee.  I could see hints of white teethy smiles upon their faces.  Then, the boat turned.  The twin sails fluttered briefly, like our neighbor’s flag, just before becoming taught again, as the boat accelerated in a different direction.  I could no longer see the people as they were now hidden from my view by the amber sails.  I continued to watch until the boat silently disappeared around the point of the cove.

I now had an itch I did not previously know I had.  On the way home from the lake that weekend, we stopped by a book store near our house in Tulsa and I bought every single sailing magazine in the store ... and I began to scratch.