By: Pluto Brown
Changing Our Narrative
You probably guessed that I didn’t grow up on the water. I didn’t have a dad that had a boat or an uncle that always took me fishing. And then one day I got hooked on H-2-0.
In short, I applied to an organization that was putting together a team of formerly incarcerated, at-risk youth to race a sailboat across the Atlantic. The Florida-based non-profit SailFuture had been working with the same youth demographic, helping them reform themselves by furthering their education, employment opportunities, mentorship, sailing and sail-therapy. They’ve now extended their services to a technical high school, TWO six-bed residential treatment foster homes (one of which I worked to reconstruct), independent living, and even extended foster care.
When we were preparing for the race in 2015, the vision of all of this was there. However, the sailing, employment/education help, and mentorship were what was in place at the time. The boat, (formerly The Mistress, now renamed – and fittingly so – Defy The Odds) was a 65-foot MacGregor from the mid-90s. Defy The Odds that had just been donated to the organization and was the catalyst that set everything in motion.
I was released from C.Y.A. nine months before, worked my butt off to finish probation in four months (think that’s still the record actually), got a job and put in OT everyday for eight months, and had just resigned from that full-time job to go back to school. So now we’re in July of 2015 when I get word from InsideOut Writers about SailFuture putting a team together, and now I’m torn between signing up for my classes and this opportunity of a lifetime.
The application deadline for SailFuture was on my birthday, August 1st, so I was already putting some good energy behind it. The response from Florida came in – and I signed up to get my classes. Still living in Leimert Park, my school commute was to Canyon Country. I left home at 6 a.m., and would get home 22 hours later because the buses ran slower after my last class was out at 9 p.m. It was pretty rough, but I made it happen.
One month into school, I was in LA helping Mom pick up my niece and nephew from school one Friday evening, September 26th actually, and I got a phone call that pretty much went like this:
SF: Hey, hello, is this Pluto?
Pluto: Yes, this is Pluto.
SF: This is Mark with SailFuture, we had some changes in the roster and wanted to know if you were still interested.
Pluto: Yes! Yeah that’s great. I am.
SF: OK, good, good. How soon can you come out?
Pluto: I mean I can get on a plane tomorrow night.
And the rest is history.
Well, kind of history. We didn’t actually end up racing, most team members pulled out, but I ended up meeting two of my best friends, captains that have taught me plenty, seen countless countries, opened up so many doors and more importantly – my eyes. I now know what it is that I want to do in life. I’ve worked this profession – that I ENJOY – into my life plan. I’m going to go off on a tangent here, but I feel like this needs to be said. I wouldn’t change ANY of my life if I could. Every decision I’ve made, everything I’ve done, my failures, my scars, tragedies, mishaps and mix-ups – no matter how bad I feel about it, have made me who I am. My father said, “Son, there’s a difference in being proud of what you’ve done and who you are,” and who I am today is someone I can celebrate. But I digress.
We all went home, none of us had a clue of what was coming or what to do. I was still in contact with SailFuture in January of 2016, and after talking with them, we came to this: The boat made it across the Atlantic, it’s in the Caribbean and we need someone to watch it, and work on it. The agreement was that I would go down to do maintenance work, repairs, and boat-sit; if this went well, I would be able to stay on as crew for the charters that were awarded to some of the donors for the organization. Fast-forward three months, and IDK how many bottles of rum later, and I’m preparing to deliver the boat the rest of the way up to Florida.
It took us 18 days to make it from St. Thomas to Ft. Lauderdale and I can honestly say that this was one of the best times of my life. Getting the boat there wasn’t terrible, GETTING THERE/HERE wasn’t easy but pressure makes diamonds, eh?
I get asked every now and again, why do you do it, or why do you like it? My response has pretty much always been: the travel, the pay, the experiences. I mean, I’m a fire sign, if I were a Pisces or something I might not scratch my head too much about it but hey. Beyond that, there comes a time when you’ve left the port and you’ve gotten to be so far out that when you look up, you can’t see land. There’s nothing off to your port side or starboard, and although you know WHERE you’re going, your destination isn’t there in front of you either. Nor is your past. When you look behind you in the pseudo-silence of the whitewater falling and rolling over itself, you notice the feeling in your stomach. It’s cleansing somewhat, refreshing for sure. So why do I KEEP sailing? Somebody told us all once that if you could find work doing what you love, you’d never work a day in your life.
Fair Winds & Warm Waters, Pluto Brown
