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My very first words in this world were: “Argh, matey!”. It’s true. I don’t know how it happened or why. I’m not a pirate, and I certainly don’t come across as one. I did, however, grow up sailing on a dark green Catalina 27 named Farfadet. She was my second home on the beautiful Salish Sea.
Farfadet had a Jolly Roger that we would hoist when in passage. So, I supposed you could say I was steeped in the culture. At some point, either through the absurd communicative mumbling that occur between babies and adults (why do we do that, anyway? You know, do that thing where we like idiots with our voices 13 octaves higher than how we talk to adults?), someone somewhere must have proclaimed “argh, matey!”. Somehow, through complicated and tiny electric signals in my tiny little baby brain, that one stupid linguistic neuron decided that this was the one phrase that stuck. I’m not a neuroscientist, but it must have happened that way. Unless it was instinctual, in which case I’d be rather frightened.
Either way, I think it means I’m destined to be a sailor.