I don’t know what year it was, because I was only five or six at the time and at that age you don’t live from year to year, but just from day to day and each day is filled with a year’s worth of time.
Mother took me to meet the man in his office on board the schooner “Regina,” which was sitting upright and proud in the mud of the Kennebunk River, just stuck there beside his boathouse, prow to Ocean Avenue and stern laughing at the river.
We walked the gangplank from shore to deck and back to the main cabin over the stern, where Booth Tarkington received us sitting in a straight chair by his huge roll-top desk. He didn’t rise to greet us, but extended his hand to me, and mother. I noticed his chair had no wheels, as did the office chairs in some modern offices I had seen, but then, I suppose wheels on a chair for an ocean-going vessel would be fun for a while, but didn’t make a lot of sense in the long run.
He waved mother to a chair by the window, then turned to me and asked what did I want to be when I grew up, young man, and I said, “I just want to be me.” He chuckled, nodded his head and asked again, “No, young man, what I mean is not who do you want to be, but what do you want to be?” and what went through my mind was Horse? Dog? Elephant? Giraffe? Penguin?
Noticing my hesitation, Mr. Tarkington explained, “You know, something, like police chief, fireman, sailor, racing car driver?” And I said, “I want to be a man.” He nodded again and said, “Well, young man, I think you’ll make it and grow up to be a fine man some day.” Mr. Tarkington and mother turned to chatting about the sort of things that grownups talk about.
As we got up to leave, he asked if I had any questions, and I said I just wanted to know when the ship would sail again, and his answer was true. He said that when we get much older, we don’t like to travel so much, but were often content to just sit in the mud and enjoy the ebb and flow of the tide and the wind, the patterns of the clouds in the sky, the chirping of birds and the splashing of fish at play.
The “Regina” is gone now, just slipped away some years ago while we weren’t watching, but the boathouse is still there by Ocean Avenue, just before you get to the River Club with its tennis courts, and Chick’s Marina, where President Bush used to keep his cigarette boat. That one’s gone, too. Just slipped away while we weren’t watching.
Orrin Frink is a Kennebunkport resident. He can be reached at ofrink@gmail.com.
Cutline
The Floats, on Ocean Avenue in Kennebunkport, was built in about 1900 as a boat-building shop. It was best known as the boathouse and studio of author Booth Tarkington from the 1920s to ’40s.
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