A Postcard From B. Frank Franklin

A missive from our roaming sometimes columnist

After only a single phone call from B. Frank in probably four years (during which we had to wait multiple times for him to deposit more coins) we were startled to see a series of tattered postcards from the country of Yaris appear in our mailbox. Adorned with his distinctive scrawl and the usual hodge-podge of years-old postal stamps, his cryptic letters described a hard grounding that nearly cost someone else their boat, a physical altercation with a B-list movie star, and something about emigration troubles. 

The most coherent of his notes is transcribed below:

The Yarisian Prime Minister is said to have a taste for rum.

For every getaway there is a go-back, and it’s time. Yaris has been good to us, with good friends, good food, good fun, and great adventures. It’s hard to leave the easy living and non-lethal weather, but home is calling. 

We’d come to Yaris looking for refuge from the calamities which had struck so many friends, and which had left us tired and sad. Leaving was not easy, and getting to Yaris is complicated, but it’s time to shove off. 

We’d not planned to stay more than a few months, but the weather and pace here are a comfortable fit, and though days pass, a year went by like a fine beam reach. Procrastination, a strong suit of mine, has been easy. 

We were thinking about heading home—a job complicated by local customs and limited travel options—when lockdown came. We were stranded. There are worse things. 

Our time here has been well spent—learning to make rum, repairing lava lamps, sailing the Badwater and Goodwater rivers, and spending time with a guru who reminds me vaguely of someone. I’m still trying to figure that one out. 

We are headed home now, and though we sailed often while away, I am giddy at the prospect of sailing sweet old Elsie again. That will not happen as soon as hoped, because of a mistake made in a rush to leave. But more on that later… —BFF