Skiing with pan fish

There’s a lake in Michigan – Murray Lake – that’s shaped like a horseshoe, which is lucky, right?

My uncle, stubborn Dutchman and union rallyer, taught me to waterski on that lake.

Tiparillo in his teeth, he took off from the raft, slalom. I took off in the water, wooden skis bobbing. The yellow umbilical cord snaked along the water’s silky surface all the way to the little speedboat.

“Ready?” Uncle Dominic throated.

I gave a tiny thumbs up.

The rope yanked. My knuckles clenched and knees buckled.

The pike and pan fish: “What the hell?! Stand up!” …

“Stand up!” Uncle Dominic garbled.

I let go. The skis had already ditched me.

I surfaced and saw the little speedboat circling ’round. Uncle Dominic coasted into the silver water, neatly ending up beside me. His Tiparillo glowed and the descending sun left a swath of glimmer on the lake that still smacks of heaven.

“Let’s try our luck again.”