MAX EBB I
"We need to take another look at the dues structure," said the membership committee chair. "We're having trouble signing up new members and we're well below our targets for this year. I think our dues are just too high for young sailors while our long-time members with big boats could easily pay much more." "Are you suggesting we charge according to boat size?" asked the club treasurer, who happened to own a very large yacht. "That would be extremely unfair, like paying another boat tax." "Please hold off on the debate until we get to the agenda item," scolded the commodore. "We'll take up the carpet before we take up the tax." "I think we should take up the tax first," demanded the membership chair. "He's right," added the rear commodore. "You've got to take up the tax before you can take up the carpet."
W
hile the board was distracted with these procedural details, I moved to Lee's table to see what had ever possessed her to take a berth at this meeting.
NMMA RECREASIONAL BOATING STATISTICAL ABSTRACT
don't really need to take an introductory safe boating class, but the word on the dock was that the instructor teaching the class at the yacht club this time around was full of wonderful old sea stories — some of them even true! So, a couple weeks ago, after I'd finished some maintenance work and locked up the boat, I thought I'd drop in discreetly and sit in the back of the room to see what nautical yarns were being spun. I entered the yacht club dining room and set course for an empty chair at a half-full table. But I was brought up all standing when I noticed who was in the room — it was not the Safe Boating Class at all. The tables had been re-arranged into a configuration that looked more like the Paris Peace Talks, and the instructor was nowhere to be seen. To my horror, I had stumbled into a yacht club board of directors meeting. Worse yet, my having walked that far into the room, it would have been terribly bad manners to put the helm down, back the jib, tack around and bear off for the door. Unfortunately, our commodore, and most of the other flag officers, saw that I had fetched up as if my keel had hit Three Bird Rock in a flood tide. "Please join us, Max," the commodore invited me. "It's an open meeting." "Yes, of course," I lied unconvincingly as I proceeded to the half-empty table, "that's why I'm here." As I sat down, I looked around to see which other club members had chosen to endure a yacht club board meeting, voluntarily or by mistake. I was astonished to see Lee Helm among the small audience. She's a great sailor, and a naval architecture grad student at the university, but not a yacht club member and not likely to be one until long after she finishes her degree. "I would like to discuss replacement options for the carpet in the lounge area," said one of the members. She was not on the board, but chaired the house maintenance and decor committee. "It's really getting to be in pretty bad shape." The commodore agreed. Apparently they were still setting the agenda for the meeting. "Any more agenda items?" he asked. Page 124 •
Latitude 38
• September, 2011
While new sailboat sales are down 76.9% since '01, kayak sales are down by only 36.2% and canoes are holding steady.
"Get a plate, Max!" she whispered loudly through a mouthful of lamb kabobs. "And why didn't you ever tell me that they, like, serve free food at these board meetings?" "Probably because I never go to them
myself," I whispered. "But Max! Your vice commodore is a certified foodie, and she's in charge of the cooking." "Good point. Aside from the freeloading, what on earth are you doing here?" "They want me to talk about windsurfers and kiteboards," she said. "As if they can get them all to join the yacht club if they rearrange the deck chairs a little. I mean, like, I give them some credit for the outreach attempt, but I think they're reaching in the wrong direction." People were starting to flash unfriendly glances in our direction, unmistakable requests to be quiet. So I walked over to the serving table to fill up a plate with world-class moussaka and Greek salad. "First on our agenda," announced the commodore, "before we get to reports, we have a guest from the local windsurfing community. Lee Helm, you have the floor." Lee gulped down one last bite of dinner and then took her position at the
lectern on one side of the directors' table. To my surprise, she was showing them a big paper flip chart rather than a PowerPoint presentation. "This," she explained, "is a graph of sailboat sales in the U.S. from 1980 through 2010." It was not a very optimistic chart. It peaked at 77,100 sailboats sold in 1981, and dropped all the way down to 4,300 boats sold in 2010. "See the problem here? No new boats, no new members." She flipped to the next chart. This one plotted canoe and kayak sales over the
