Wet Leonard

True story. Walstrom Marina in Harbor Springs, MI. Summer 1997.

Several air bubbles rose to the top before the dome of this bald head broke the dark water’s surface. It reminded me of a wet stepping stone in a garden after a rain.

An old little diddy came to mind, “ plop plop fizz fizz, oh what a relief it is”. My sister in law was frantic beside me (she only had 2 children, so she’s a little more sensitive than I). I was calm, even giggling just a little. She looked at me like I had lost my mind.

I fantasized about just taking my dainty sandal clad foot and placing it ever so gently on the top of that dome. He tended to be a know it all. Control freak maximus. He could suck the fun out of the room in about ten seconds flat. Insecure and distrustful he was always compelled to boss everyone in the room around and didn’t even realize he was doing it (kind of Kate, from Jon & Kate plus 8, only crankier).

Are you horrified by my confession yet?

Get a grip, this particular fantasy/ thought process took about 5 seconds, one of those life flashing in front of your face at warp speed kind of moments. The furious splashing and gnarly tanned fingers gripping the rope that was mooring the boat to the dock snapped me out of it.. The responsible human in me sprung into action. My experience as a nurse and mother of 6 had turned me into a seasoned professional when it came to reacting to crisis.

With my sister in law holding on to a post with one hand (thank God she has always been a solid athletic kind of woman)and to me with the other, I reached down and pulled the victim closer to the dock and got his head above the water. Together we hefted him up and out he came coughing. sputtering and ashen from his panic. It was no small feat to retrieve a 71 year old man, fully dressed in water laden blue jeans, tennis shoes and a golf shirt out of the murky waters. Sadly, his ball cap gently floated beyond our reach.

It had began as a typical Leonard moment. We were enjoying a family reunion of my husband’s siblings up in Northern Michigan. All the ladies broke up in pairs to explore the quaint town and the fellows were resting themselves at the waterside bar, enjoying the marina activity. When my sister in law and I returned from our shopping, Leonard excitedly said, “come here, come with me I want to show you something real quick”. A knowing look passed between us as it only could because we were the two daughters in law of this man and we were used to his peculiar ways.

We followed him over to the marina adjacent to Dudley’s Dock where he was chattering away about the small yachts the men had toured earlier while we were shopping. He was determined to play yacht salesman, quickly reciting the particulars of each vessel we passed. We approached the 34 foot Tiara he was so excited about showing to us mere women.
It was docked in about 15 feet of very chilly water on a bay of Lake Michigan. We dutifully followed him as he confidently marched up the sturdy 3 foot wide plank connecting the boat to the dock. But, instead of turning to board the boat, good old Leonard marched straight off of the plank and sunk like a stone in the cold lake waters.

It might not have been so dramatic except the proud man who was my father in law could not swim a lick. Despite serving in the Navy during WWII, and himself living on a small lake outside of the Detroit area, he truly never learned to swim! Once we hauled him out of that water I could not stop laughing.

Sheepishly, he shuffled back to the table they had claimed at Dudley’s Dock, squishing all the way with every step he took. Of course, it was all a big hoopla when we arrived at the table and were barely able to recount the event due to our now hysterical braying over the whole thing. He didn’t think it was funny. What to do now? All of his children showed appropriate concern and insisted we go into one of the many shops in the town and purchase dry clothes for him. He insisted he would be fine, drying out on his own, no use to needlessly spend good money when he had a whole suitcase full of clothes 30 minutes away at the cottage.

They all pleaded with him as we had dinner reservations in an hour for the 12 of us. It was supposed to be our big “adult” evening out, having left about 12 children back at the cottage. If there was one thing my husband’s siblings never learned to do was to negotiate with their father. If he said no, there was no “let’s change the approach and ask him again”. Even if it was for his own good.

I snuck off to a nearby store and bought a dry t-shirt for the man, but I really needed him to cooperate if I were to buy him a dry pair of pants. Cooperate he did not! My sister in law and I manhandled him into changing into the dry shirt, and putting on his windbreaker he had thankfully left on his chair during our little excursion. From the waist down he was still wet Leonard. An hour in the sun had not done much in the way of drying out his stiff blue jeans and his tennis shoes still squeaked and squished with every step he took.

As you all know trying to order and get served with that big of a party can get a bit complicated. We did our best to place or orders and get the show on the road. At one end of the table my one of my husband’s brothers asked the waiter to please crank the AC up as he felt it was getting stuffy. Down at the other end wet Leonard (whose lips now had a slightly violet cast to them) asked the other waiter if he could perhaps turn down the AC. And so it went.

Leonard was a complicated piece of work. He could be as cantankerous as all get out but had a generous streak. He loved babies and toddlers but did not seem to know how to relate to children over the age of 5. He was always the first one to volunteer to help with a project, but the consequences were then he was in charge of said project. We had a pretty contentious relationship over the years but I think we eventually developed a healthy respect for each other.

He taught me most of the home improvement skills I know and being that I’m married to a man who travels, and is not very handy, this was a valuable part of my upbringing. I believe seeing the work I had to take responsibility for since his son traveled raised his esteem for me. He came to appreciate that I was a hard worker. He never directly told me that, but one day while working on a small project together he gave me a small red ball peen hammer which to this day is one of my favorite tools. He said it had been in his family a long time and he wanted me to have it.

It is funny how age matures your outlook on things. I now have 3 grown children and 3 still requiring an extreme amount of direction. I found out that I’m not the perfect parent after all. It would be nice if Leonard was still around so I could extend him a lot more grace than I did in the past. Of course , he would still drive me crazy but I think I could appreciate him even while he was.