Boat size is a shallow measurement in life

There will always be someone with a bigger boat.

One time, I found myself standing on a dock surrounded by dozens of ocean-going boats — catamarans, single-hull sailboats and cabin cruisers.

And in an unknown subtext to me, boat size matters.

“Mine is a 50-foot, motor cat with … (my ability to comprehend details after this point was minimal),” said one.

Another replied with similar, yet different terms — again, pretty much meaningless to me.

I’ll admit that for someone who lives on an island, my personal mastery of the nautical dictionary is embarrassingly embarrassing.

But size, I recognize, is a constant identifier in any description.

At the far end of the dock, one boat towered over all the others. Someone was proud to tie up.

“Dang,” is the most creative sentence I seem to be able to construct.

I grab my phone and look up and Google the chrome-embossed and back-lit letters — 160 feet, room for eight guests and a crew of 10. Weekly charter rate is a down payment on an average home purchase.

What this nautical ecosystem is telling me is that no matter how big your boat — or darn near anything else — is there’s always a bigger boat out there.

Funny how we get wound up in getting wrapped up in things that are merely passing moments or objects.

Home size, bank accounts, or a career status are all temporary achievements in life and are also easily trumped by others. In the end, we allow ourselves to be seduced by our levels of self-determination.

Growing up, I remember never imagining someone’s home might have more than three bedrooms. Our family lived in a modest home in a middle-class neighborhood. It was so middle-class that a Cadillac shouted the arrival of a visitor.

But as the real world crept into my life, I met friends whose homes sported more rooms, extra garages and an automatic ice maker in the kitchen. The latter impressed me as much as landing a man on the moon.

American society is to be immersed in dreaming of bigger and better. And while driving ourselves to do and be better is good on balance, obsession is dangerous to our self-worth.

Our best esteem comes from inside, built on accomplishments we deem important or of value.

A happy and healthy family, knowing you are good friend, or having made a positive difference in the life of another are all accomplishments no one can ever take away from you.

I love to compete, but I no longer let it affect my self-worth. Nor do I look at the most beautiful car on the road and say “dang, if only I … .”

I guess time brings a sense of balance, gifting you with a clearer vision of what is truly most valuable in life. And with that comes a sense of gratitude. I like that.

Two hours later. I return to the dock. A new boat is parked in the last slip — this one towering over the one I spotted hours before.

I laughed to myself, betting the owner of the former was wincing over the extra 75 feet of length his dock mate brought to town — again proving in the end, there is always someone with a bigger boat.

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