Looking back on it, all this started off as just a simple, small boat building project between two buddies. Innocently, we thought we would have the thing put together and finished, at the most, in about a week or two. Little did I know that six months later I’d still be designing, sanding, drilling, fiber glassing and varnishing a not so small of a boat anymore. Surprisingly though, having now built the Fleur-De-Lis, I am finding myself enjoying a refreshed outlook on life and living. Once again, I am amazed at what we are all capable of accomplishing when we are open to learning from one another and working together toward a common goal.

My buddy is Harold, my mother’s husband. He and my mother were old school chums from way back when until one day they miraculously rediscovered one another after several years of being widowed and alone. They fell hard for one another, got married, and, to my joy, are living happily ever after. Their finding each other is a great story in itself for they have been wonderful for one another these past 14 years or so.

Since the day I met Harold, we have been buds. How can you not love Harold? He was born and raised in Virginia, the Old Dominion, in a place called Quinton, not too far from where my mother was raised. Harold is a true Virginia gentleman with a dry quick humor, loving heart, and wonderful smile. He also loves to fish and putter around the garage, as I do, and that’s how this whole boat idea got started.

Thinking back now, over all the years, various kinds of boats have come and gone in both our lives, these being sail, ski, and fishing types of course. But it came to be that at this point in our lives, Harold in his 80’s now and I in my 50’s, we both found ourselves boat less and fishing from the bank on too many occasions. While out fishing one day, Harold and I started making comments to each other about needing a small fishing rig to simply and effortlessly float us about, especially on those calm, beautiful summer evenings when we enjoy being out on the lake the most.

Mostly, we just talked about needing a boat. A few times though, we did actually venture out to look at and price a few used fourteen foot aluminum johnboats, until one day I came across a small ad in the back of a boat magazine that caught my eye. It was an ad for a starter kit to build your own pirogue over a weekend. For those of you who don’t know what a pirogue is, a pirogue is what we in the Bayou State refer to as a small boat. Hey, this might be fun, I thought, and all in one weekend! The finished product was advertised to weigh in at no more than about forty five pounds, light enough for the two us to easily pick up and throw atop the Jeep and head for the lake. I showed the ad to Harold, just for grins, one night. If I remember correctly, he simply smiled and then quietly thumbed through the rest of the magazine.

A few days went by and I had pretty much forgotten all about showing Harold the ad until I came for dinner one evening. Shortly after walking through the door, Harold jumped from his chair and said, “Dave, follow me, I have something to show you”. “What’s up?” I asked, as we walked out to the garage. As I walked in a little further, that’s when I saw it. There, to my delight, appeared the beginnings of our project. The far bay of the garage had become a small boatyard looking area stocked with the wooden boat materials from the ad Harold had recently ordered by mail and purchased from Home Depot. There they lay, atop two sawhorses, waiting to be constructed into something that might somehow become float worthy someday.

Staring at all the materials laid out before me made me smile even while pondering how in the world we were going to make this thing. You see, neither Harold nor I had ever built a boat before. Harold though, positive as always, reassured me that we could build this thing, this boat just waiting to be born. Early the next day we were at it. Harold and I soon became Bossier City’s newest amateur boat builders. I’d show up early for coffee before going to work and mom’s kitchen soon became known as the Boatyard Café. But as we rolled up our sleeves during those early summer mornings and started to build the boat, Harold and I soon realized that our boat building plans were quickly out pacing our original fishing needs. As the weeks went by, Harold and I traded thoughts and ideas. We learned from one another and the boat really began to take shape.

We soon discovered, however, that we were quickly becoming two guys essentially building a boat in a bottle. Mom would come out to inspect our progress from time to time and remind us that the boat was really looking great, but also reminded us that we didn’t own a trailer to haul the thing around. You see, the boat had become fifteen plus feet long, and unknown to us then, on its way to weighing over 100 pounds. It wasn’t just a boat for fishing anymore. My love of sailing was coming back to me and we started coming up with plans for it to become a sailboat of all things. A sailing pirogue and perhaps the only one of its kind in Bossier Parish. Having lived oversees for several years in Sydney, Australia and owning an old wooden schooner and sailing about Sydney Harbor on the weekends, my love of sailing was unexpectedly beginning to reclaim me.

As the weeks turned into months, the boat started to become this thing that had these graceful lines about her and a life of her own it seemed. Harold’s back unfortunately started to get the better of him at that point as he and Mom were scheduled to return to Virginia for the rest of the year. That left me and the boat, or as my wife came to refer to it ‘the other women’, to figure out how to become a sailboat. This I am still figuring out as I write, but the boat now has a rudder, tiller, two side boards, three sails designed to be unfurled and sailed at the same time, and a nine foot mast. She has all the hardware and ropes one needs to sail the seven seas, well maybe not the seven seas, but I do seem to get around Black Bayou on a warm, breezy Sunday afternoon pretty well.

One evening my wife and mother came to inspect the boat. Soon they were huddled together and came up with the name The Fleur-De-Lis, which Harold and I thought appropriate seeing how the Fleur-De-Lis design is a great symbol of the Bayou state. Fleur-De- Lis is French literally meaning flower of the lily. As I understand it, the kings of France used this iris-like design as their symbol of royalty. Seeing how Harold is descendant of indentured Virginia servants, and I come from poor Italian and Norwegian immigrants, we thought it high time we took a step up in the world so we liked the name. Also, ever since Hurricane Katrina, the Fleur-De-Lis symbol has taken on a renewed meaning for Louisianans as a symbol of rebirth and hope in the future. In any event, the Fleur-De-Lis really takes to the wind when I take her out. Though my wife now refers to me as Captain Ahab, she has actually befriended the Fleur-De-Lis. She even sewed her sails and went for a sail with me one afternoon. I smiled as we glided effortlessly in whichever direction we pointed.

Now as I sail her about on light, breezy afternoons, I reflect on the how she came to be, how she was born and brought to life. For me, she is a product of love and friendship between two buddies. A symbol of possibility and rebirth as well as a reminder that anything is possible if we believe in, learn from, and support one another. These are the things that are truly royal in this world. The Fleur-De-Lis introduces me to all kinds of folks when I am out sailing her who are interested in how she was built. Even the wildlife and fishery guys come up to visit. They also keep an eye on me when the winds pick up a little too much. Thanks guys.

You know, if two guys from Bossier City, LA, who had never built a boat before can build something like the Fluer-De-Lis, I am reassured that there is hope for any and all us and all our problems. These problems are all around us now, in our personal lives, in our community and country, and in this crazy world of ours. These problems are in need of all of us, more than ever now, working side by side.