Rhiannon was not a typical only child. She was always considerate and sensitive toward others. She grew up with four generations of hundred-pound yellow Labs that she was very close to. Her love of animals grew throughout her life. One of her many quotes was “Animals are the greatest teachers of unconditional love.”
Her best friends said she was the happiest person they knew, always smiling. She had a unique sense of humor, often laughing at things that most people probably wouldn’t find funny. Almost all photos of her show a beaming smile. She wanted everyone around her to be happy. Rhiannon wanted more than anything to be part of something, and to be and feel loved. She loved life and could make even the most boring event enjoyable with her presence. She had an energy and life about her, and defined “free spirit.”
She was very tough physically and mentally and did not know the meaning of quitting. She had wisdom and courage beyond her years.
Rhiannon loved knowledge and was constantly in a learning mode. She earned a 4.0 GPA in marine biology in college. She loved everything nautical. Ocean, sun, beach, salt air, lighthouses, white sand, foghorns, and the sound of ropes hitting masts. She spent almost every summer in New England, near the beaches and ocean. She loved astronomy and watching the night sky. Writing and music were her ongoing escapes. “Love” was the word that was always used in her writing and the music she listened to. She prized words and quotes that illustrated what was most important in her life. A quote she used often was “What defines us is how we rise after falling.” Rhiannon was very sentimental. She would save ticket stubs from movies, cards from bouquets of flowers, seashells, bottle caps, rocks, letters, postcards. She was grateful for everything and always expressed gratitude for anything that was done for her.
Rhiannon was attending Animal Behavior College to be a dog trainer and was a volunteer at the Potter League Shelter in Middletown, Rhode Island. We feel she would have been the next “dog whisperer.”
Rhiannon left us all too soon. We all miss her so much. We hope she is where the sand is white, the water turquoise, and where the stars go blue.
I Will Be (a poem by Rhiannon Borisoff)
I will be
a woman, proud, and uncompromising.
I understand that life will be what you make it,
that sometimes the coat of many colors
that marks your achievements brightly, blends only
to the loneliest of grey.
Jason Ernest Franks was born on February 10, 1973, in Dartmouth, England. Jason’s first passion was writing, and his second was sailing. He started sailing at the age of ten in England on the River Dart. He came to America with his mother in 1985, graduated from high school, attended Fordham College, and graduated from Florida State University. Jason moved to San Diego, where he taught sailing at the San Diego Yacht Club and earned his captain’s license. In 2002 he moved to Newport, Rhode Island, to be close to his family and continue his sailing career. After transatlantic crossings, he captained the Rum Runner, Madeline, Spirit of Newport, and other power and sailing vessels hailing from Newport. Jason’s last berth was as the captain of the eighty-five-foot sailing vessel Adventurous. He also taught special education in the Newport public school system.
Jason received a call from his friend Captain Patrick “Trey” Topping in April 2007, asking for his help in bringing the Flying Colours from St. Thomas to Annapolis, Maryland. Jason, after receiving permission from the owner of the Adventurous, flew to St. Thomas to help his friend. They were never heard from again, lost in the first named storm, Andrea, approximately 187 miles southeast of the Carolinas.
Jason was loved and a friend to all. He is especially missed by his mother and father, Ron and Carol Dale, his brother, Tony, and his black dog, King.
Christine Grinavic was working in the spring of 2007 as a crew member with her “other family,” on the sailboat Arabella, based in St. Thomas and Newport. They traveled around the Caribbean and Martha’s Vineyard. She had last been home in December 2006 for her beloved nana’s funeral, where she delivered a special eulogy and then went back to her work at sea. She loved the sea. She had originally intended to come home to New England with the Arabella but was offered the opportunity to “crew” with friends on the Flying Colours. That would mean she could be home for Mother’s Day. “I’ll be your present this year, Mom,” she said on the phone to her mother. “I know you are missing Nana.”
Christine loved traveling around the world and had traveled to five continents. She impressed everyone who ever met her with her enthusiasm for life and extremely positive attitude. She had no patience for those she deemed to be a “Bitter Betty” or “Gloomy Gus.” That philosophy has helped her mom to go forward with the positive attitude Christine would demand.
She was the only child of Mary and James Grinavic. Her dad died suddenly, of a heart attack, five weeks after their treasured daughter was reported missing at sea. Some think that he died of a broken heart. The Coast Guard conducted a massive search of the Atlantic with no sign of the Flying Colours or her sailors. It took a very long time for the families and friends of the four missing sailors to accept the reality that their loved ones were not drifting at sea and would never come home.
Christine had a great philosophy of how to live life. This is an excerpt from an essay she wrote, about the period when she had “dropped out” of college (with a 3.87 GPA!). She later achieved a degree from University of Rhode Island.
And I realized that being happy is the most important thing in life. Because life is precious, and even a few months ought not to be wasted. No time should be wasted. You are never stuck. You just can’t be afraid of a jump.
. . . So, I am going home for some time off . . . Yes, I’ll finish my degree, I just don’t know where or when yet . . . I’ll finish in a way that’s right for me. Not a way that is tailored for others. There’s no sense in making a tight jacket fit when there’s lots of coats in this world. Everyone ought to wear one that is comfortable . . .
She was so very wise, and lived her life well, and is very much missed by many.
Patrick Joseph Topping III (Trey to all who knew him) was the captain of Flying Colours. Trey, with his quick wit, sharp intellect, Southern charm, and good looks, had it all and lived more in his thirty-nine years than most do in eighty. He possessed an adventurous spirit and took great pride in pursuing his passions. Trey spent his life cultivating his many talents and always earned his living doing what he loved, whether that was cycling, woodworking, or sailing. He was an avid reader, a creative writer, an amazing storyteller, and a talented photographer.
Trey loved to sail. He agreed with the description that sailing is “long periods of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror.” In the off-seasons, when he wasn’t sailing or traveling, Trey put his woodworking skills to work restoring the historic homes of Newport and building furniture. He was a master craftsman, and as in most things, he was self-taught.
When not sailing, Trey would throw on his backpack and take extended trips to exotic places. Over the years he traveled extensively in Asia (China, Burma, Kashmir, Thailand, Tibet, Nepal, and India), northern Africa, South America, Central America, and Southern Europe. He was especially drawn to India, which he visited twice, with plans to return and pursue his interest in photography. Trey loved to travel and didn’t shy away from visiting places others might avoid, whether it was climbing the Himalayas, cycling through Africa, working as a movie extra in India, or even spending a night in a Bolivian jail after unsuccessfully haggling with a water-taxi driver. He lived in a hut with Burmese Indians, in the home of a Moroccan sugar merchant, and on a houseboat in war-torn Kashmir. His travels were truly adventures in every sense of the word, and they all became fodder for the stories he loved to tell.
He enjoyed traveling solo on his bicycle, once riding up the Pacific Coast Highway from San Diego to Seattle and on to Utah. His last trip abroad was a two-month, two-thousand-mile bicycling odyssey across Southern Europe, which he chronicled in his blog, www.crazyguyonabike.com. He wrote, “My pride in life is to forever remain true to my nature regardless of what others may be doing.” Trey was true to himself and lived his life passionately.
Trey was a son, a brother, an uncle, and a friend. He loved his family and his friends. He is loved and missed by all who knew him.