Sting ray ruins water fun

I was 16, the summer my aunt took her teen-aged son, nieces and nephews to the ocean. While the guys struggled to conquer the surfboard, I waded out to the deep water and met a Marine on a weekend pass.
As we bounced along with incoming waves, getting acquainted, I touched down on something sharp and gasped, “I stepped on a piece of glass.”
He looked at me in disbelief, “No, it’s a clean beach.”
My foot did not argue. It marched a bloody trail back to my aunt sitting with the towels and T-shirts. Within minutes we were in the nearest trauma center.
“You have a puncture wound from stepping on a sting ray crawling on the bottom of the ocean,” the doctor said. “Stay out of the water for a couple days.”
As I waited for my tetanus shot, another sting ray casualty came in. His leg required stitches aftr being whipped once with a sting ray’s tail.
The rest of the time at the beach, I sat with the towels, nursed my pain and watched the rest play in the surf. Back home, in the desert of Arizona, the only swimming was in a swimming pool with chlorine-purified water.
Ever hear that once you fall off a horse, you need to get back on again? I should’ve gone back into the ocean after bouncing off the back spine of that passing sting ray. I was married with children before I again encountered natural waters: a lake.
I stayed with the lunch box and dry towels while my husband and children headed for the water. I heard the little ones giggle as they waded in the shallow water along the shore. They called me to join them.
Barefoot, I walked over, ready to wade in. Then I saw why they were giggling. Minnows nibbled on the hairs of their legs.
I stiffened up and watched. Cautiously, I stepped in. I convinced myself I was not afraid of fish smaller than my finger. My feet made a liar of me. One minnow brushed against my leg and I was out of there. I guarded the towels, T-shirts and blue jeans the rest of the afternoon. I watched their fun from the security of the picnic blanket – a long way away from those dangerous minnows.
Through the next several years, we took our children to the Atlantic and Pacific a number of times. The only water I entered was a tub or concrete lined pool. I stayed out of lakes and oceans until the year our youngest was born. That summer we went to the beach off the coast of Maine. The day was hot. The sand hotter and the water refreshingly cold. A few minutes of sitting on hot sand and the cold ocean water was extremely appealing. I was too hot to care that I could not see the sandy bottom, let alone any passing critters. Thirteen years after the sting ray, I plunged into the ocean water again and stayed.
Recently we went to Lake Michigan dues. I wasn’t afraid. I waded out into the lake and verified that nothing nibbled or jabbed. I was not afraid. Not me. It’s just that someone had to stay with the lunch box to guard the towels and discarded clothing.