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During anyone's life there are many experiences, emotions, and discoveries that are the common lot of many other people; there are others that, by the very nature of one's birth, upbringing, times, and circumstances, are shared with only a few others. Some events and encounters, strung together in a certain order, are one person's alone; they are what makes that person unique; they are what makes a life.
This book is the earliest in a series of five--someday to be eight--volumes about my life. Enjoy them all; if you can learn from them or laugh and cry with me, then my life shall have been made worth more. This added worth I shall accept gratefully.
Circumstances, too complex to go into here, drove me to write these books about my life out of their chronological order. The four volumes about the years from 1952 to 1977 were published between 1977 and 1981. They are about the deeds and misdeeds, the adventures and misadventures of my middle years. This book is about my boyhood and youth, about the forces that coiled my spring.
In offering these accounts of my life, I affirm my belief in everyone's uniqueness. Without the recognition of each other's individuality there can be no dignity. Without dignity there can be neither honor nor justice, and without honor and justice mankind will surely descend into the abyss.
Note: Some of the names of people, places, and ships in this story have been changed, to avoid embarrassment to people who may still live, or to their relatives and friends.
Posted January 15, 2001
One of the few men who could crack a tale of the sea wide open and make you feel and taste the spray, the late Tristan Jones tells of his boyhood at sea. Some of the good folks who have done research on Jones have found a good deal to be sceptical about when it comes to his writings. Even his boyhood home in Wales has been drawn into suspicion by some. As for me and perhaps you too, who cares! This man could hoist a tale of the sea with the same ease with which he handled a flying jib. Here he gives an account of his young life that somehow simply rings true. There are no grand revelations in here, no soul searching. None are needed and none are found. Like virtually all of Tristan Jones books, you'll find this one a treat. Not his best, but a good read and like most of his books...a grand adventure.
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