Stingray Summer

THE WIND had been whipping down out of the north for days, creating a strong lateral current across the beach. When my daughter and I waded out for body surfing, it tugged at our legs like a really excessively adverbed sentence, decisively powered by verbs maladroitly fashioned from nouns, each clause burdened with 23 K attachments of prepositional phrases screwed onto them like similes on a homily. Dragging us down the beach. Like frags on a slag heap. Heavy.


But today, as the tide went out and the crowd on the beach followed, the wind was light and the current mellow. Our only challenge, when throwing ourselves into the breakers, was to avoid the other frolicking swimmers.

"Three more good rides, Sissy," I said. "And then let's get out."
"Okay, Daddy," she said, knowing that I defined a good ride so narrowly that three might stretch to ten.
"OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!" I said. "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I said. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" I said, "SOMETHING GOT ME!"
"What is it?" she asked.
"OHHHH! OHHHHHH! OHHHHHHH!" I said. "I think was a jellyfish."

I headed for shore, moaning as jets of hot venom pulsed in my foot. Some kids in the surf wanted to see what was hurting me so bad, and when I pulled my foot out of the water, there was a half-inch gash on the knuckle above my big toe. Didn't look like a jellyfish sting.


stingrays lie hidden in the sand on the bottom, waiting for unsuspecting humans


"Stingray," said the lifeguard, "sit up here." She jumped down from her platform and got her first aid kit while I climbed up and said how it was almost worth the pain to get to sit on the lifeguard chair.
"I'm the coolest guy on the beach."
"You're really brave," she said. "Grown men usually cry."

I felt really cool then. But not so much when, as she wrapped a bandage around my foot and ankle to hold a chemical hot compress on there, the venom started shooting up my leg to my groin, cold sweat burst out all over me, and I suddenly felt like I was about to puke. She helped me down and I lay groaning in the sand, and after a little water, I was back to being brave. And I didn't cry.


Maria, my lifeguard, was an angel of first aid. I think I fell in love with her for a few minutes there. Intense pain and abject helplessness can make a man susceptible to these lapses. But add the ministrations of a beautiful lifeguard in a swimsuit who takes complete control of the situation and praises my bravery . . .

Meanwhile, my daughter, the next hero here, was stuffing our beach clutter into our beach bag and calling Mom on the cell phone. The situation brought out the best in this girl who whines and complains about every request for help (trying to disprove the adage that "it's easier to get a kid to do it than to do it yourself"). Sissy hauled all our gear up the beach and acted with more self-possession that I could have hoped.

The third hero, my wife, Lee, didn't really believe that I was all that hurt until she saw me being led hobbling up the beach path, supported by Maria and Maria's mom, who had appeared from nowhere (ostensibly to have lunch with her daughter, but more likely to save her from middle-aged men who fall in love with her daughter after she saves their lives).

The pain got worse in the car, while Lee teased that I was a big faker and wasn't really hurt.
"I had just opened my book," she said.
"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!" I said.
"I have the worst luck," she said.
"OOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"
"I never get any reading time, and now--"
"UUHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"You get to sit around soaking your foot and reading while I take care of you."
"STOP TALKING! I'M GETTING SICK AGAIN!"
"I have the worst luck!"

True to her prediction, I did get to sit around with my foot in scalding water (it does something to either the nerves or the venom, and lessens the pain) and read while she took care of me. We found a doctor nearby, who gave me antibiotics, narcotics, and a tetanus booster, and I got to sit in the car and read while Lee filled my prescription. Sissy continued her heroism by babysitting her brother, gratis, and I realized, despite my momentary infatuation with Maria, how much I love my family. Family is the people who have to take care of you when you're incapacitated. And for me, true love is the woman who tenderly nurses me while recycling a decade and a half of sarcastic inside jokes so they fit this exact occasion. "I have the worst luck. I still don't think you're really hurt. How did you really get that little cut?"

Epilogue: Lee's (and Sissy's) luck continued bad as I had to go for an x-ray the next day, causing them to miss their mother/daughter pedicure appointment.

Mine continued good as, upon my return to Colorado the day after that, I was diagnosed with a nasty infection and got to hang out in the ER with an IV antibiotic drip while nurses brought me warm blankets, ice water, and I read another whole novel!!


Postscript question: I have NEVER seen an episode of baywatch! but, still, who's your favorite? Jenna, above, or CJ: ??