Keep the People in the Boat

Captain Nordie’s three rules, and why they may be the best life advice you’ll ever get.

How I got here

I wanted to acquire my ASA sailing certifications. Not a sunset cruise with a glass of something. I wanted to really learn to sail and be certified to do it.

So I found Captain George W. “Nordie” Norwood — Major General, USAF (Ret.), of Flagship Sailing — in the Tampa area, and I jumped onboard.

I was amazed at how much there was to learn.

I earned my ASA 101, 103, 104, 105 and 106 — from Basic Keelboat all the way through Advanced Coastal Cruising. Catamaran is next — hopefully next year!

What nobody tells you about sailing:

Sailing is like life, but on crack.

You never know if you’re ever really prepared. Storms happen. The unexpected happens. And when it goes south, it goes south fast.

One night a storm came in ferociously: lightning, big waves, heavy winds. We wanted to tack — change direction — and reef the sail, bringing it in smaller for more control. As we tacked, a big blow of wind came and pushed the boat into a giant heel. In the rain and the pitch black, it was a scary moment.

The trick is knowing what to do when it comes down to literal seconds to save the crew and the vessel.

I learned to have huge respect for the sea, and for the boat you are on. It’s a curse and a savior.

So Captain Nordie prepared us for the unexpected, and he held every one of us accountable.

Night watches around the clock on long passages.

Safety checks every hour.

Navigation verified and re-verified, with sextants as a backup.

Shifts to sleep. To cook. To eat. To sail.

And shifts to simply wonder.

Because in between the checklists, there’s a night sky with millions of stars, the lapping of the waves, and the full power of Mother Nature pressing on the sails.

All of it is noted and all of it is respected, with the life force of both survival and euphoria.

The salt life is good for the soul.

And out of everything Captain Nordie taught me, three rules stuck.

Simple and to the point, like life. Or like life should be, if we’d stop overcomplicating it.

Rule One: Keep all the people on the boat.

In the second act, this rule gets personal.

Keep your people in your boat. The ones who really count.

A boat has limited room. It was never meant to carry everyone you’ve ever met. It carries crew.

Crew are the people who show up for the night watch. They take the helm when you’re exhausted. They tell you the truth when the weather is turning.

When I lost my great competition horse, Harlequin, I was beside myself. A neighbor made me a hot meal and brought it to me on a tray. Complete with cloth napkin and silverware. I’ll never forget it. It was the best comfort. I needed it.

That’s crew.

Protect them. Check on them. Clip them in when the wind picks up.

And let the others go. Not everyone who comes aboard is meant for the whole voyage.

Some people step off because it’s their time to move on. Some you have to ask to leave: the friend who only calls when she needs something, the one who rolls her eyes every time you mention a new dream.

Then there are the people standing on the dock, waving. They’re not bad people. They’re just not crew. You can wave back and still cast off.

Rule Two: Keep all the water out of the boat.

The ocean is not what sinks a boat.

Boats are designed to sit in the ocean. They float in miles of it. What sinks a boat is water getting in.

And it rarely comes in all at once. It comes through a small leak you meant to fix, or a hatch left open.

In life, the water is the crap. It’s the naysayers and the negativity. It’s the people, the things, and the jobs that suck the life right out of you.

For me, it was the casino floor in AC. I had one of the top 10 spots in the pits, where all the big money is — a $100 chip tip for a drink is normal. Then the casino workers’ union voted to put veteran workers from other casinos ahead of the order we were hired in, and I got cut. I landed on the 5-cent slots.

It was time for me to move on. That’s when I moved to NYC and pursued acting.

You can’t drain the ocean. The world will always be full of noise, criticism and bad news. That’s not your job.

Your job is the hull.

So do what Captain Nordie did every hour: run the safety check.

What’s coming in? Where’s it coming from? What have I been ignoring below the waterline?

Then plug it, pump it, or close that hatch for good.

Rule Three: Don’t set the boat on fire.

A fire at sea is a special kind of cruel. You’re surrounded by water in every direction, and your boat can still burn.

That’s what burnout looks like in the second act. You’re surrounded by everything you worked for, and you’re quietly going up in flames.

Don’t set your life up in flames. Keep your balance: physical, mental, emotional.

For me, it was 30 years of riding. Physical burnout.

And I am notorious for juggling too many balls in the air. At times I get overwhelmed and refuse to acknowledge it. I believed grit could get me through it and I could keep going. Now I see that saying no sometimes brings a chance for balance and restoration. Rest also gives you better perspective.

Nobody stands every watch. Rest isn’t a reward you earn after the work. Rest is part of the watch rotation.

So feed the body. Rest the mind. Tend the heart. Most fires don’t start in a storm. They start in calm weather, from something we stopped paying attention to.

The quiet part

Captain Nordie’s rules aren’t about fear. They’re about freedom.

You follow the three rules so you get to stand at the rail at night and just breathe.

The discipline buys the euphoria.

The checklist makes room for the wonder.

That’s the second act.

We’re not here to survive the voyage. We’re here to feel it.

So let’s go back to your boat — the one you pictured at the start.

If you ran an hourly safety check on your life tonight — what would you find?

— Dame Eileen

About Captain Nordie: Captain George W. “Nordie” Norwood, Major General, USAF (Ret.), is a former fighter pilot who served over 30 years in the U.S. Air Force, a USCG-licensed 100-ton Master, an ASA Master Instructor, and a four-time ASA Instructor of the Year (2019, 2020, 2022 and 2023). He teaches at Flagship Sailing in the Tampa area. Flagship Sailing

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