Westport is on the shore of Long Island Sound. It’s claims to maritime fame once focused on the navigable river, or the oyster beds at Mill Beach are a thing of the past. The crowded docks of the Ned Dimes Marina, chock full this brilliant Tuesday in August with a flotilla of amateurs, with a few masts reaching up, scattered among sleek motor craft – loosed on weekends for a fishing trip – a spin among the nearby islands – a speedy pull of a water skier…or the memory of when I proudly launched my sunfish, taking aboard our Ruth Steinkraus Cohen inspired UN visitor from Russia. And then lost control when the tide changed, and had to be ignominiously towed back, after much too long in the blazing sun and in full sight of all the revelers on the beach. Not an international incident, but certainly a personal embarrassment. So now I am content to observe vicariously, feel the breeze on my face sitting in my beach chair and watch the line of returning weekend sailors as the sun provides a setting climax to another Sunday.