Lucky ones, these mighty mite Lake Calhoun sailors in their little prams with battened lateen sails and more than adeqquate personal flotation devices. These boys learn hiking and tacking early in their racing careers, navigate by checking Calhoun Beach Club and perhaps catching a glimpse of the IDS Tower. The class racing season ends the last Friday in August each year, and I came upon these mariners just after they'd slid across the final finish line, to the sounds of air horns blaring and muffled applause. Wait 'til next summer, many of them seem to say, all except the young man in the foreground who won every race I watched.
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