Just the other day, I had a minor catastrophe in my kitchen, and I practically shed a tear. Really. It was unbelievably silly: My beloved kitchen tongs broke.

Ah, the Lego. This ingenious toy that has thrived for at least three generations was our lifesaver for toys on Cowabunga. Once at anchor, Sean and Brendan could bring out the whole collection, building their trains, tractors, etc. all spread out on the deck, and then quickly dismantle the whole lot for storage below once under sail again. Lego was our solution to the toy problem on board.

When Brendan was 3 years old, he was enamored with a then-cartoon super hero strongman of the 1980s, “He-Man.” It’s ironic because today, Brendan is indeed an incredible athlete, an extremely talented and strong rock climber, and runner. I don’t know if He-Man was a defining influence or not, but nevertheless, something must have rubbed off on him.

Perhaps my most constant, daily reminders of Cowabunga pop out at me as I go about my daily routines in my kitchen while cooking and putting things away. Guests in our home often remark how some of our unique space-saving cupboards, as customized by Michel, remind them of configurations for an RV or a boat.

The sextant is a miracle object all of its own. It guided us every day for 30 days across the Atlantic Ocean, it found “needles in haystacks” of tiny islands in the middle of nowhere, it carried us to California, it was never wrong.

Michel’s favorite childhood hammer that he purchased with his precious savings at 14 years old was not only his trusty tool when renovating Cowabunga, but it continued to pound away for years renovating our current, now fixed-up “fixer-upper” home.

On one wall in our home, along with the current photos of kids, grandkids and the treasured barograph, also sit a few other Cowabunga memorabilia curiosities: our visitor logbook, a quirky fireman’s wrench, our cabin bell, and our hallowed sextant. Occasionally we leaf through the logbook and friends and experiences from the past leap out at us from the pages.

The barograph that Michel's friend, Philippe, entrusted to us, was our constant weather forecaster onboard Cowabunga, and Michel still winds it up weekly where it has its place of honor in our living room. It continues to steadfastly predict the weather.

They set off their EPIRB (Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon) in the middle of the South Pacific Ocean, and help came running (or rather floating and flying). Then soon thereafter, so did an outpouring of criticism, some sympathy, and a sizable amount of media-whipped frenzy of outrage.