Being dateless on Valentine�s Day, owing to boyfriend-at-seaness, in the name of yearning and romance (pronounced with a lateral lisp, in honor of Maven) I stayed home. That is, I stayed in, at the place I'm house-sitting and ate pizzer and procrastinated shamelessly on two art projects. One of the art projects is at the request of someone else, i.e., who would pay me money, so it is not good to procrastinate, but there you have it.

I was not feeling creative, probably a function of having deadlines, so I justified a special Valentine's Day Treat for myself, which was to watch the last forty-five minutes of "And the Sea Will Tell," a TV movie made from a book of the same title. My brother gave me a copy of it years ago. The book concerns the unfortunate coincidental visits to a remote desert island by two disparate pairs of sailing cruisers�one pair experienced, well-to-do yachties, and the other a scruffy hippie duo. (Note to self: possible band name.) While interesting, the subject of yachting had no immediacy for me at the time I read it, mostly while riding on the Red line through Boston on my way to school. However, the book (and movie) have taken on new meaning since I started living on boats, new and specific meaning, which causes me to warn the Keelhauler away from some seedy looking boat or other, sniffing for hints of gunpowder or cocaine in the air.

Anyway, the movie was disappointing. Among other flaws, which include a complete re-writing of the ending in the book to give the impression that the hippie girl is capable of remorse, there are major casting problems. For some reason, the casting director found it desirable to cast, as the sunny, irresponsible American hippie Jennifer, described in the book as a cheerful-if-stubborn girl with curly strawberry-blonde hair: the angular, dark-haired, dark-eyed, sullen Rachel Ward, who speaks with a marked Australian accent. She looks and acts (in this movie, anyway) almost exactly like one of the Keelhauler's old girlfriends, which is to say: neither sunny nor cheerful.

Following that excitement, I got a call from my Uncle Todd, who calls from time to time, late at night, usually while drinking large quantities of something�let�s imagine that it�s peppermint schnapps. His stories generally start out sentimental, then dive sharply into maudlin, with the central theme being �I�m so emotionally messed-up and let me describe it at length and revel in it, without a nod to any possible solution, while rejecting any helpful advice you might wish to impart.� It�s totally fun, and if you�re suffering from insomnia, you can send me your number and I�ll forward it on to him�he generally calls around midnight.

Last night�s call concerned a visit he�d had from my father, James, which is both unusual and unwelcome. (My father is on terrible terms with everyone in the family, for valid and well-documented reasons.) Todd�s mildly interesting story was just a segue into his bitterness about James having been their mother's favorite. (He�s only 55 years old�there�s still time for him to get over it.) His topic of choice did not seem to be in the spirit of romance, but having no other plans, I muted the television and settled in for the long haul.

It seems that Todd had walked out the front door of the store where he's employed, on some errand, to find James and his creepy wife Jane hanging around by the entrance. Not entering the store to find Todd, but just hanging around in the hopes that Todd would magically appear, which he did. James then told him something along the lines of: Now that he'd gotten the �heritage� stuff from the family house--the antique music box and a large oil painting of Nantucket Island among other things, he had retired, and he and Jane were �taking off� in order to �travel the country.� (I'm picturing a Winnebago.)

I wasn�t terribly surprised to hear that my father had retired, because although he�s not technically retirement age, he is keen on manipulating situations to his advantage where getting something for nothing is possible. They don't always work out, but he's persistent. My memories of childhood include repeated lectures by him on my responsibility to become �rich and famous� so that I could support him. Later, he approached me and my brother about a keychain-making business he was trying to start. He showed us the keychains, which came in two models: a little wooden block house, and a silhouette of a donkey. �That�s my own design!� he said with false modesty, noting that the guy he�d contracted to cut out the donkeys had complained about the complexity of the design. �That�s real mahogany!� he bragged, turning the small figure in the light for us to admire. �You have to help me market these so I can get rich and quit my job,� he stated. Unsurprisingly, that venture failed to pan out, but later on I heard he�d garnered a job as a tutor to a child star, so perhaps that provided a nest egg for his See America First campaign.

Todd was upset for many reasons, including the fact that James had inherited a bunch of money despite estrangement from my grandparents. Though Todd claims abject poverty, he stated that he'd have been willing to pay �a lot of money� for that �heritage� stuff, and was mourning its loss. I didn�t ask any questions, not wanting to draw out the conversation, but Todd�s implication was that James had sold the valuable heritage things and retired on the money. That seems plausible, if he's going to take his act on the road. Unless his act includes singing along with old music-box discs and telling stories about Nantucket from the makeshift proscenium of the Winnebago, which seems equally likely, but I don't know for sure and don't really care.

Well, I do care about two things: 1) I resent that he managed to profit from his relationship with my grandmother�a relationship that he put no effort into and in fact worked to exploit and destroy; and conversely, 2) I resent that my brother and I will never realize the same return on investment as concerns our relationship with him. So, I'm a big hypocrite, I know, but what can I say?

When I heard that James planned to hit the road and travel the country, my initial reaction was concern about him showing up for an impromptu reconciliation. I've decided not to worry about it, because a) what can he do to me? and 2) when I told the Keelhauler about James�s plan, he laughed and said, �If he shows up here, look him in the eye and say, 'Did you bring your checkbook?'� In a way, that was the best Valentine�s Day present I could have hoped for.

Star of the day. . .Walker and Stearns