Arrr! | Nature of Things

Published 1:30 am Wednesday, July 8, 2026

By Kimberly Mayer

The truth is far too much fun. — Captain Hook

All of this happened in the month of June 2026, when our house on island became a pirate ship. A ship that ran aground and got stuck in the mud of a pirate cove, otherwise known as Westcott Bay, San Juan Island.

“Heave away!” our two young grandsons cried when they came to stay. Suddenly, the two-story house was all about decks, the upper deck and a lower deck, depending on a shipmate’s rank. The captain generally tried to stay aloft. Between the interior set of stairs and an outdoor staircase, they chased each other ‘round ‘n’ ‘round all day, as pirates do on gangways.

“Let’s explore,” they cried, binoculars in hand like telescopes. Indeed, everything was an adventure from the moment they sprang from their captain’s bunks fully dressed for the morrow. And what do pirates want for grub? A hot bowl of oatmeal heaped with local berries like rubies, garnets and sapphires. Treasures!

Oyster shells stashed under the lower deck, pinecones pillaged on the ground or swept up on the upper deck, all these got tossed overboard with glee. Everything in excess, I notice. When my pirates sauntered over to a nearby quarry for what was to be a simple lesson in skipping stones, they promptly turned it into a duel of who could throw the most rocks, the biggest rocks, sending juvenile bass fish scurrying.

“Weigh anchor and hoist the mizzen! Loose the topsails!” one of them wailed when back on board, and suddenly, white paper unraveled like sails from the paper roll of their easel out on the deck.

As Blackbeard said, “Time and tide wait for none.”

Author Dave Eggers knew something about pirates’ ability to capture children’s imagination when he opened 826 Valencia in the Mission District, San Francisco, in 2002 as a writing and tutoring nonprofit center for children in under-resourced communities. To comply with a city ordinance, there had to be a retail business, so he opened The Pirate Supply Store on the street frontage. In the backroom, in the writing lab, plenty of creative space with long tables and chairs, paper, pens, markers, whiteboards and books. But up front, pirate supplies like nobody had ever thought to assemble before: clothing, eye patches, compasses, spyglasses, skull flags, treasures and chests, bottled fog and peg leg polish.

There isn’t a child on earth who would walk by that.