St. John has deeply affected me as well. I carry its nonjudgmental spirit wherever I sail. I, too, could say I'm from Chicago, Boston, New Orleans, Fort Lauderdale, Georgetown, or St. Petersburg—or Sint Maarten or Bequia, for that matter—but I, too, have the hailing port of St. John engraved on my transom and in my heart.
These were highly formative years when I skippered this book to publication—and St. John helped mold me into the happy-go-lucky, well-traveled adult I became.
Could my daughter, myself, and my wife Carolyn have become who we are without the nurturing of St. John? I doubt it. For me, the streets of Love City aren't filled with just friends—but cultural role models as well. Yes, we now leave St. John for lengthy periods—but the spirit of St. John and its diversity never leaves us.
When I arrived on the shores of St. John, my two big dreams were to become a writer and to circumnavigate. I write these words in July of 2018 in Cook's Bay, Moorea, French Polynesia, midway across the Pacific Ocean. We are on our fourth circumnavigation. I've written over a dozen profitable books. Every penny I've spent over the course of the last four decades has flowed from my salt-stained pen. And I'm currently the Editor at Large of one of the most respected and influential marine publications ever—Cruising World magazine.
How did I do this? With a little help from my friends, both West Indian and Continental. St John has taught me much. It still teaches me. In between circumnavigations, we always return for a year or two to catch our breath and, of course, to mooch off Cid for a while. Home is where the heart is. St. John is my adopted moral compass—and always will be—the one shining example of peace, love, and racial brotherhood I've found under the American flag.
And this book, St. John People, has, as intended, endured for all these years—just like my lifelong admiration and respect for Love City and her many-hued residents.
Cap'n Fatty Goodlander, S/V Ganesh, Moorea, July 2018
