March 17th

Light at the end of winter’s dreary tunnel and a special anniversary.

Fifteen years ago, Glory Days joined our family.

Each year, the echo of bagpipes sparks her survivor’s soul.

The things is…most people see a plain, old boat. Fiberglass, chrome, an inanimate machine. But I always heard a voice–even if she only whispered at first.

Before the whirlwind of summer begins, I like to reflect on our shared memories,

New York Harbor in August 2001–spectacular and scary.

Dodging the Staten Island Ferry, logs in the East River. Navigating Hell Gate, and a Point Judith storm that sent waves crashing over the bow.Late that next night, floating under the Verrazano Bridge watching a lightning storm, unaware the skyline behind us would change forever in less than a month.

Glory Days has proudly flown the stars and stripes for memorials, holidays, and fireworks in the years since. She’s been the centerpiece for extravagant parties and a fortress for retreat when the world is too much. Whether she towers like Queen Mary at the end of the dock or slips in and out of the marina like a stealth fighter, she’s home and peace.

Wind, raging surf, flood and fire were the tests during Hurricane Sandy. When dawn’s light raced across the ruined beach, the Lady was alive in the debris. Against all the odds, she held on.

The timid whisper has become a voice that rings like royal crystal. A driving melody from the past, pushing us full blast into the future.

Be not discouraged, as many will fail to believe,

Forever follow a spirit that sings,

Viciously cherish each beating heart,

Revel in your timeless soul,

                                                  Glory