Warning: This post has nothing to do with the photo above. Originally, I thought I’d write about the amazing galette I made tonight for dinner, which included the delicato squash in the picture, but when it came time to write, I was kind of bored with the whole cooking post concept. But I’d already taken the photo and I’m still obsessed with making pictures out of my food, so I decided to put it at the start of the article, anyway.
I met my husband freshman year in college (1983), which makes us friends for 32 years. We’ve been married for almost 25 of them. We know each other pretty well. Even more so, we know each other’s stories.
And then, he tells one I’ve never heard.
We’re having dinner with a couple we haven’t seen in many years. The “he” of the couple tells us a story about taking out a couple of non-sailors on his boat and having some docking trouble. The non-sailors ended up having to climb out into the water and across some extremely slippery rocks to get to shore. They were not happy.
A little later in the evening, the same guy tells another story about docking his boat, in which he fails to get close enough to the dock, jumps from boat to dock, trips and ends up in the hospital.
My husband listens to this second story and chimes in with his own story of this guy he knows, a retired doctor, a skilled sailor who housed my husband and daughter at the same regatta for a couple of years in a row. His friends and fellow sailors called this guy Captain Crunch. My husband turns to our dinner companion and says that maybe we should start calling him Captain Crunch as well.
We all look up at my husband, baffled. Why, we want to know, did they call him that and why should we call our friend that?
It ends up that the doctor was given the name Captain Crunch because even though he was a good sailor, he always had difficulty docking his boat, and on many occasions, he crashed into the dock. He was a captain who made the dock and his boat go crunch. Captain Crunch.
The story made us all laugh, but left me with something different than it did to our friends.
How is it that after all these years, there are still stories of my husbands that I have never heard?
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