02/10/2024
Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale . . .
It was faded from the sun and the edges were rolled up in spots, but you could still read the sticker that was stuck on the aft end of a sailboat I raced on one summer in a past life. "Calm waters don't make a skillful sailor," it said.
The boat belonged to a guy whose real name was Dale, but everyone called him Keel. At first, I thought people called him that because it’s the name of something on a sailboat. Eventually, I would discover it was due to his tendency to keel over and fall off his bar stool after only two beers. And, if you know anything about sailors, you know this is NOT in keeping with the reputation they like to uphold. So depending on who you asked, whether or not Keel was a “good" sailor was up for debate. At the time, however, it only mattered to me that he had a boat and usually needed crew.
I would come to understand that Keel had a love of teaching rooted in his work as a college professor and it was about the only thing he enjoyed as much as sailing. In fact, these combined passions were probably what inspired him to put that sticker on his boat in the first place. They were also the likely impetus for his unconventional style as a captain. He would constantly push us to learn and he did so by orchestrating situations to test everyone on the crew, particularly if someone were new.
You learned quickly that he loved to do things unannounced, like maneuvers that would cause the boom to fly across the cockpit and take out anyone and everyone who wasn’t paying attention. Or he'd randomly throw people's belongings overboard so we'd have to go through the mechanics of turning around as quickly as possible and then sail back with enough precision for someone to lean overboard and snag a hat, or whatever it was, out of the water. He was even known to purposefully broach us—which meant he would let the wind blow the boat all the way over onto its side until the mast and mainsail were laying flat on the surface of the water and then expect us to recover. Not something anyone ever enjoyed because if you didn't get pitched into the drink initially, the remedy usually involved having to get in the water anyway in order to right the boat. As chaotic as it often was though - the sticker was right. We learned the most when being tested.
I remember one particular trip I made with him that season that was exceptional and involved no shenanigans. We were running up Lake Huron at night and the conditions were absolutely spectacular. The water was like glass, there was just enough wind from just the right direction to fill both the hoisted sails, and a full moon lit the way in front of us as far as we could see. I’ll never forget it. Once the sails were set and we were underway, a monkey could have held the tiller and gotten us to where we were going. Perfect runs like that were rare, and while I certainly appreciated them, I also knew, exactly like the sticker said, that no one could become a good sailor without experiencing the exact opposite. Spend some time on the foredeck in a squall, soaked to the skin, struggling to rig a #4 storm jib all while trying to maintain your footing when waves are coming over the railing and the boat is heeled at 30 degrees. You'll learn a lot in a short amount of time.
And so it is with life. And why that darn sticker has popped into my head more times in the last couple of years than I care to count. Because it's true - it’s not until the dark clouds roll in and the winds blow hard enough to make the rigging sing, that you find out it’s adversity that has the most to teach you.
And oh, have the winds blown.
You may remember hearing that a few years ago we purchased property nearby and began the process of developing a wedding venue. As part of the overall plan for easing into my new role as a venue owner, I anticipated the necessity of having to scale back my rental business which was, at the time, heavily focused on furniture. Although it broke my heart to move away from my first love, I knew I would need to in order to find the appropriate time and energy it would require to get the venue up and running. This reasoning was behind why I made the transition from furniture to dishware back in 2022. I closed the warehouse, sold a lot of my inventory, and moved things home to Ga***rd. The plan was to maintain a presence in the industry, but better position myself to focus on building the venue.
And here’s where things went off the rails and where it's clear someone snuck a banana onto the boat. The person we hired to develop the venue—yes, he was vetted, yes, he was licensed—how none of that protected us is for another post—he not only strung us along for two years, but he stole a SIGNIFICANT amount of money in the process. Like, enough to make your eye twitch for an entire month. As a consequence, I have spent the last year and a half in legal pursuit of this person at the expense of a lot of other things in my life. Oh, it’s been a wild ride, for sure. I've discovered that sticking up for yourself and having to continually be the squeaky wheel requires an inordinate amount of time. That the criminal justice system is wildly and disgustingly slanted toward the rights of the criminals. And that you can steal millions of dollars from people and still play the victim.
It's not been a journey without its highlights though. The colorful cast includes, among others, a professional poker player, a world-ranked athlete, a Hollywood director, the Colorado Bureau of Investigation, a couple crazies in a dune buggy, a US Marshall, and a Legend out of Ludington. There *may* have been fake profiles, an alias, talk of kidnapping, a burner phone, clandestine activities, high-speed pursuits, and covert surveillance involved as well, but I’ll plead the fifth if you ask me any questions.
I’ve met and made some really good friends—which is, of course, the proverbial silver lining, and if they make a movie—which they should—I hope they tap Frances McDormand to play me. Although the story ends with four arrest warrants, criminal charges, and the extradition of a POS from Colorado, it also ends with the agonizing admission that the venue was just not meant to be. Too much time has passed, the economic loss complicated things, and it just doesn’t make sense anymore.
So that’s where I’ve been, what’s happened to me, and why Serradella has been laying low over the last couple of seasons. What’s next? Well, we’ve weathered a storm - and along the way learned several lessons. I think the clouds have parted, the worst is past and we’re focused on being back in the race. So, we un-reef the mainsail, hoist the jib, and set a new tack. I’m not going to dwell on where we're at in the regatta, I’m just going to point into the wind and enjoy the feel of the sun on my face and the wind in my hair again.
Oh, if you need product or another off-the-wall sailing story—run a flag up the halyard. Or send an email. Whichever works.
Dishes, glassware, chargers, and flatware are up on the new website. www.serradellarentals.com and email is [email protected]. We've gone back to our origins (no more Tailored Tabletop) because, duh, it's bad luck to rename a boat.
Now taking reservations for the 2024 season. If there’s something you’re interested in that you don’t see, reach out with your requests—we’re VERY open to adding new products and have lots of sources for finding them.
Fair winds and following seas,
K
