Close-knit community

When I was growing up, I had 25 first cousins within five years of my age -- postwar Baby Boomers -- and tons of neighborhood kids living within the range of a few blocks. We all played and birthday-partied together. Our moms had a Wednesday night Card Club and everyone knew each other and was there for each other. One thing I didn't expect moving to the moorage was to find a lot of that same closeness and sense of community, which I really have come to value and appreciate.

Our moorage has 17 houseboats, small enough so that everyone knows each other. We joke that you have to allow 15 extra minutes when you're coming or going because you're likely to end up stopping and talking to one or more people. We look out for each offer, offer advice and lend a helping hand without hesistation.

For New Years Eve this year, one of the neighbors had a fairly impromtu gathering that we were invited to the day before. A lot of us already had plans elsewhere earlier in the evening -- I'd gone to hear the fabulous David Grisman play the mandolin at the Alberta Rose Theater -- but came back to celebrate ringing in the new year with the neighbors.

It's also nice that you can shuffle on over to a neighbor's at a moment's notice or at times when one wouldn't necessarily want to be going and driving anywhere -- like wrapping up in a blanket and watching an eclipse of the moon at 3:00 a.m. Some people gather together to watch episodes of Downton Abbey and rehash the storyline afterwards. I invited people to come over and watch the presidential inauguration at 8:00 a.m. and we had a brunch of fresh-baked goods, tea and coffee.

I love the mysteries we try to collectively solve -- why are mergansers all of a sudden swimming so close to our houseboats, when will the sea lions returns, why are foghorns blaring at some times and not others? Many of us are creative and you can see the examples of our artistic endeavors walking past, making pleasant all the hauling back and forth.

There's a feeling of security of having houses so close-by, and there is something about the quirkiness of living on the water that draws us together. I'd lived on the island 23 years and have lots of friends, but you don't see them every day, in fact, you have to make an effort to get together with a lot of them, so these ecounters feel like a richness of community added to my daily life.