Ageless Passions by Karen Putz

Tag: memories

  • A Sign From My Dad: Focus on What Really Matters

    I was having a grumpy day, letting a lot of little things get on my nerves. My desk was piled up with a bunch of paperwork that had no place to go. In frustration, I started cleaning out a file cabinet filled with early intervention papers that needed to be shredded.

    Out of the corner of my eye, I spied a card that was wedged in the metal frame of the cabinet and I dug it out.

    It was a thank you note from my dad.

    Four years ago on this day, Dad was in a coma and no longer responsive. He passed away the next day. Since his death, he has always sent me signs that he’s near. This one made me smile and cry at the same time.

    Dad didn’t make it to his 90th birthday party–and he would have been 90 this year. I think it’s a lesson for all of us–to focus on what really matters and to enjoy the time we have each day.

    Thanks for the lesson, Dad.

     

     

  • Uncovering Written Memories

    I was going through a pile of papers and the hand-written essay caught my eye.  It was an essay written during my freshmen year at a local community college.   I sat down to read it and was instantly transported back in time.  I received an “A” on this essay, probably not so much for how it was written (because I see many mistakes and ways it could be written differently) but more for the story it shared:

    Even now, seven years later, I can still remember the first time I met Mike.  I was eleven years old when we drove up to our newly bought cottage.  As we settled down, a slightly balding man walked over and introduced himself as Mike.  That was the beginning of a special friendship that was rather slow in forming [at first].

    I cannot remember much of the first four years.  I was a very shy girl then, but Mike’s friendliness won me me over.  I was like a turtle, coming out of my shell when Mike was around.

    The shell really broke when I began to show a serious interest in [water]skiing.  Mike’s son used to waterski competitevely and Mike used his knowledge to encourage me.  He gave me the encouragement that I wanted so much from my own parents.

    He taught me a card game called “Casino” and we spent many a time together winning and losing to each other.  He was dubbed “The Champ,” and whenever I would win a game, I would  [strut around and] call myself, “The Champ.”  But never for long, because he would win back the title in the next game.

    Mike had a great sense of humor.  I always remember summers full of laughter around him.  He would put on airs of a big-time gambler, strutting around wearing his favorite hat from Las Vegas.  The expressions he used, his movements, never failed to bring out a laugh.

    There was a serious side to him.   Family bickerings always clouded his face.  He never let anyone know what he was thinking or how he really felt during those days.

    This summer, Mike got sick.  I hardly saw him during the summer.  No one knew it was serious until his son-in-law told us that Mike had cancer.  I was stunned.

    A few weeks after I found out, I went to see Mike in his office.  I was shocked, for he had grown thin and pale.  It was the first time that I realized he was not going to get better.  It was the last time I saw him.

    Mike died last week and I lost a very special friend.  As I sat in the church at his funeral, I thought of the good times and the bad times.   I replayed his smile, his laugh, and all the scenes of summer that came to my mind.  One particular scene stands out:

    I remember him standing under the maple tree and telling me that I was going to be the first girl to barefoot (waterski on my bare feet) on Christie Lake.  I laughed at him then.  Early this summer, I did it–but Mike was not around to share the glory [that first time].  When he finally came to the lake for a short visit, he sat in the boat and saw me barefoot.  I’ll never forget the proud look on his face.  That was the best memory Mike could have given me.

    Karen and Mike
    Karen barefooting

                       

  • Waterskiing Memories


    A few nights ago, the hubby was flipping through channels and he came across Stunt Junkies, a program on the Discovery channel. The episode featured Scott Ellis, who was attempting to break a waterskiing jump record by jumping over more than fourteen boats.

    As I watched Scott break the record by jumping over a total of nineteen boats, I started thinking back to my own waterskiing days on Christie Lake. I had always dreamed of skiing in shows such as the ones held at Tommy Barlett’s or Cypress Gardens but I didn’t have the guts to follow the dreams.

    The summer that I turned sixteen, I decided that I would learn how to barefoot–to waterski on my own bare feet. At first, I tried using a waterski and kicking off the ski, but I found myself hitting the water face first. After too many face slams, I decided there had to be a better way. So thumbed through the pages of a barefooting book and learned about the “kneeboard start.” I dragged my mom to a local boat shop and we purchased a kneeboard.

    After a couple of days of trying, I finally planted my feet in the water and stood up. The kneeboard fell away and I suddenly found myself barefooting. I didn’t get very far, perhaps a few hundred feet. As I climbed into the boat, I learned that my friend Michele had the throttle wide open and the boat was moving at 39 mph instead of the 33 mph that we were aiming for. No wonder my feet were burning on such a short run.

    For the next three years after that, I waterskied and barefooted every chance that I could. I often barefooted with the other guys on the lake, competing to see who could make it all the way around the lake. One of the guys taught me to do a deepwater start which involved wrapping my feet around the rope, gliding on my back and then getting up on my bare feet.

    I have to thank my parents for all the gas they bought– some days we skied up to eight times a day.


    I’m now in my early forties and I haven’t barefooted in several years. My only consolation is that no other girl/woman on Christie Lake has successfully barefooted, so I still hold the title of the sole woman barefooter. My goal is to get back into barefooting– especially after seeing Scott Ellis jump a couple of boats. He’s got the same amount of gray hair that I do.

    But for some real inspiration, check out Banana George–he’s 91 years old and still footin!