What fireworks night taught me about calm leadership, strategic independence, and trusting your plan

It’s been a while since I posted here. I’ve been reflecting on whether to revive this space, not for announcements or opinions, but to archive real stories that have shaped how I lead, work, and live. I’m calling them “anchor stories”.  Experiences that ground my values and guide my decision-making. This is one of them.

Fireworks Night, Weymouth Harbor

July 3rd. The sun was setting over a packed harbor. Dozens of boats were jockeying for space ahead of the fireworks display. I had guests aboard; and my inboard diesel engine had gotten us this far, but it died right as we arrived and it wouldn’t start again.

We’d barely made it to the anchorage. I ran through every troubleshooting step I could in the fading light: fuel, bleed screw, ignition. Nothing worked. I could’ve panicked, but instead, I planned.

Before the first shell lit the sky, I laid out contingencies:

• The headsail was ready on the roller furler
• My inflatable dinghy, rigged with an 8hp outboard, was bridled and ready for towing
• Charts were reviewed, spotlight was charged
• Guests were calmly briefed

If the engine stayed down, we were going to sail home; safely, calmly, and within the law.

The Warning

The fireworks ended, and hauled the anchor, and raised sail. We eased out of the harbor under wind power, well ahead of the pack which I knew would come along strong soon enough.

That’s when the flashing lights appeared.

From a police boat: “STOP!”

I kept our course. Slowly, under control, heading downwind; no tacking, just deliberate progress out of the congestion.

“That’s… not how sailboats work,” I muttered somewhat quietly.

The Conversation

A Massachusetts Environmental Police boat pulled alongside.

“Where are you headed?”
“South Shore Yacht Club. My engine’s down, so I’m sailing back safely.”

“Can your dinghy tow you?”
“It can, and it’s ready. But right now, sailing is the safest option. We’re going downwind, we’re visible, nav lights are on, spotlight’s ready.”

“You should anchor and wait. I don’t want you tacking around traffic.”
“No need for tacking; we’re heading downwind.  I appreciate the advice, but we’re just keeping it steady. I’ve been sailing for over 40 years and I’ve got this.  Sailboat’s Gonna Sail.”

There was a pause. Then, a half-smirk:
“Too bad you’re not a 40-year mechanic.”

I laughed. “Right? That’s how it goes.”

Executing the Plan

As the wind began to fade, I shifted to propulsion using the bridled dinghy; exactly as envisioned. We stayed on course, stayed calm, and stayed out of harm’s way.

I later noticed a police boat trailing us quietly.  no lights, no further contact, just an unspoken escort to the mouth of the Back River. No one intervened. The plan was working.

We reached the mooring smoothly, ahead of the crowd, without incident.

The Next Day on the Boat

No mechanic. No TowBoatUS. Just me a socket set, a digital volt meter, and some time.

I isolated the problem, ran new wiring, bled the fuel system, and brought the diesel roaring back to life.

What I Took from It

• Confidence isn’t bravado, it’s preparation.
• You don’t need to outrank someone to hold your ground, you just need to know your craft.
• Calm leadership creates safety.
• “We’ve got this,” only matters when you mean it, and back it up with readiness.

This post is part of a new effort to document personal “anchor stories”.  Moments from my life that reveal something about how I work, lead, and handle challenges. Some of these will come from my career, others from parenting, sailing, or community service. All of them matter to me. Thanks for reading.