Rowing to the Island of Connecticut: a short graphic memoir.

That’s Leigh on the left.

One day when I was 9 and my brother Leigh was 6, he pointed to that distant strip of green.

I may not have been a great student of geography, but I knew it wasn’t an island. Leigh insisted it was.

He may have been only 6, but he would argue about anything. It drove me crazy. Plus, he never argued about things that could be easily proven. He’d say, “Fish can fly and birds can swim.” It used to make me so mad.

But that day I thought I could prove him wrong. Our grandparebnt had a dingy.

All we had to do was row to Connecticut. Then Leigh would see for himself that it wasn’t an island.

We got into the dingy and started to row. We sat side by side, each manning an oar. Everyone knew the proper way to row was to pull both oars at the same time.

A few people rowed by alternating one oar, then the other. But they were wrong.

About 100 yards from shore, Leigh decided to row alternate style. He wouldn’t begin his stroke until I finished mine.

I told him to stop, but he refused. We started to argue. As usual there was no changing his mind. One thing was for certain: I was not going to row all the way to Connecticut the wrong way.
I warned him that I’d jump overboard if he didn’t start rowing the right way. He said he didn’t care. I told him that if he wanted to row to Connecticut the wrong way, he’d have to do it alone. He ignored me.

I told him that he was only six and it was probably against some law to row across state lines. He still wouldn’t listen.

I jumped overboard.

Leigh continued to row toward Connecticut, incorrectly.

100 yards from shore the water was cold and dark and probably deeper than any water I’d ever swum in before. It seemed like a long way back to the beach.

Around then, someone onshore noticed and told my mother.

Mom says her leg was in a cast at the time. I don’t remember.
Imagine her on the beach. Her 9-year-old is bobbing 100 yards off shore. Her 6-year-old is rowing hell bent for Connecticut.

Mom sent my cousin Jed out to me with an inner tube.

She got some teenagers with a powerboat to get Leigh and tow the dingy back to shore.

Back on shore, Mom asked Leigh where he thought he’d been going. When she asked me why I’d jumped out of the dingy, I said, because Leigh was rowing wrong.