Lake Ontario

3:22 PM

When you live on the beach, there is never a question when there is a neighbor in need, even when the call is inconvenient. Lake Ontario was angry today and as I sat inside watching the British Open as well as the grey sky fluttering bits of rain down, the last thing I wanted to do was go into the lake to rescue a boat hoist. But with the waves raging and the boat hoist steadily inching over toward 2 jet ski hoists, there was no question, especially when it is your uncle’s boat hoist. Out I went to the sea, not as a marine biologist to a whale with a plugged blow hole, but to a mish mashed metal contraption that hadn’t seen a boat all year. The wind howled and the waves crashed against the beast. My cousin, two neighbors, and myself managed to lift and move the great beast away from the helpless jet ski’s. There was no crowd to cheer the feat, just mother nature raining down her tears. The other three guys were satisfied with the work we had done, but not I. The Lake yelled to me and I answered. Wading out into the crashing water, the current pulled below me 45 degrees to the west. The images of the high waves against the grey sky took me back to a similar time when I had just hit double digits, as a 10 year old. It was then I had my first experience of body surfing. The second sand bar was in front of me and the waves curled high, smiling at me, and then crashed down, rushing past me, knocking me to the side as I jumped and turned. I pushed through the waves until I made it to the sandbar, and then, with the great surfer Jeff Spicoli looking down upon me, I found my tube, held my breath and dove toward the shore. The white water flowed around me as I paddled and kicked. I was swept up in the current and shot forward, finally coming to rest in a flow of seaweed. The rain continued, the waves continued, and my ten year old mind kept up the back and forth for 30 minutes. And then I came inside and took a nap.