This is Captain Bob. I met him at a bus stop. I was intrigued by his neckwear, and his Nick Nolte-ish ruggedness.
Here’s a detail of his adornment, slightly adjusted to make things stand out a bit more:
As you can see, Captain Bob’s adornment is pure function. I knew he worked on the water the minute I saw his essentials tied around his neck–more difficult to lose things this way when you’re on a dock bending over “the drink,” as a former boss used to call it (as in, I dropped my %&#@ cell phone into the drink again. . .). I’m sure “the drink” doesn’t need to be defined for anyone who grew up on the water. And it is also pretty self-explanatory for the rest of us. I like how idiomatic it is. Hmmm. . .I haven’t thought of my former boss in many years, who, by the way, ended up purchasing “cell phone insurance” after losing two or three phones within a year when all he really needed was a leather cord!
Even though it’s functional, what I most like about Captain Bob’s neckwear is the material it’s made from, and the knotting. He didn’t pick up this gear premade from REI or Fred Meyer. This is the work and these are the knots of his own hands.
Although retired, Captain Bob likes to lend a hand to one of his kids, who owns a business that has something to do with diving and salvage. He had spent a part of this week leveling someone’s Lake Union houseboat. I can’t really describe how leveling is done, but I learned why you’d need it done. As Captain Bob explained, Say you live on a houseboat and you get a piano. You get it on, and now that side of the boat is lower than the other side. I go underneath, under water, and level it again. Who knew?