Something to discuss in class?
By Allen A. Raymond, Publisher

As we grew older, Tom bought a classically gorgeous Atlantic-class sailboat, a 30-foot racing machine that is anyone's dream of how a sailboat should look on the water.

I, on the other hand, began racing a 22-foot keel boat called a "Star," one of the classes of boats raced in the Olympics.

Tom was a good sailor and over the years he was twice National Champion in the Atlantic Class. Not so for me; I continued to race, but as the Star became more high-tech – but my boat didn't – I was not competitive.

In an obituary about Tom in The New York Times, doctors at the New York University School of Medicine, where Tom taught for 50 years, described him as embodying "the finest traditions of the medical profession and an inspiring teacher and raconteur. Generations of rheumatologists," the obituary recounted, "will always treasure his morning rounds at Bellevue Hospital where, with wit and wisdom, he taught them that the secret of patient care was to care for the patient."

On Sunday, August 23, 1987 – almost 17 years ago – Tom and his son, John, set sail at dawn from Niantic Bay on Long Island Sound, headed for Westport, CT, their home port. The national championship for the Atlantic class had been completed the previous day (no, Tom did not win this time), and they now faced a 12-hour sail before they would reach Westport.

It was a gray day, with high winds. It was, in fact, no day to be on the water. Storm warnings had been posted up and down the coast. Tom was an experienced skipper, however, and his son was equally experienced. They knew their boat, called "Windsong," could weather the storm. It would be an exciting and speedy trip home.

Sailing at a breakneck pace, Windsong left the Niantic harbor with Tom at the helm. Turning west for the trip to Westport, he took a shortcut around a rocky promontory. With a terrible thud, the boat's deep keel hit a rock and the boat came to an abrupt stop.

The strong winds and the boat's momentum slid Windsong off the rock and the journey resumed. "We've probably got a dent in the keel," Tom commented... implying "It's no big deal."

Not so. In half an hour water was rising within the boat while huge waves washed into the cockpit. Tom and John were now seven miles from shore and, in an instant, had to abandon ship as Windsong quickly sank in 90 feet of water.

No other boats were in sight – few boats would venture out in such a storm. Tom and John had only one life jacket between them and the future looked very, very grim.

During the next hour two boats passed at a distance but neither saw the waving hands nor the bobbing heads. Finally, just as Tom and John were convinced they'd soon join Windsong at the bottom of the sea, a 32-foot sailboat with heavily reefed sails came out of nowhere. They were saved.

Truly, a miracle.

At Tom's funeral his son commented, "We cheated death that day. We were lucky, rather than smart, and we knew it."

Are there lessons in this for the kids you teach? I think so, but I'll let you decide.

Allen Raymond is the Editor/Publisher for Teaching Pre K-8.