By Tania Aebi
As Christian’s sailing story led to the beginning of mine, I have written about him over the years. And, here we are again, perhaps writing a final chapter, which will hopefully lead to a new beginning.
Quick recap. Christian and my father immigrated to the US in 1966, several months before I was born. My father was Swiss, Christian was what was called Yugoslavian in those days. Both were street artists in Paris when they met and decided together to cross the ocean on the Queen Mary and seek their fortunes in New Jersey. There, my mother, me, and my three siblings eventually joined the team. Early on, Christian moved down to the Jersey Shore, but he was with us often enough to change diapers and watch us all grow up. We were always part of each other’s lives, and when I was sixteen, his influence impacted us in ways that would reach way into our futures.
Christian owned boats and had an unforgettable adventure with a Tanzer he trailered to Florida for a couple of years in the early seventies, gunkholing up and down the coast of that still undeveloped state in between art shows. From that experience was born a dream to sail across oceans, to drop anchor in the lovely anchorages he read about in the sailing books of the era, to walk ashore, pick up some good bread, cheese and wine, and live the good cruising life.
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