I hadn't been on water skis since the late 60s, when our next-door neighbors took me to Elephant Butte Reservoir. But at the very ripe age of 47, I got up after a couple of tries.
Dan had rented a house on Sebago Lake in Maine for a week, not far from Lewiston, where he was born and raised.
Lisa picked us up in New Haven and we drove up together in her car.
She kayaked like a pro. Sebago is so deep that it's one of the few lakes in Maine that doesn't freeze solid in winter. Global warming may have changed that.
Brooks brought the boat and skis.
He and Tina, Dan's sister, were full-time Mainers.
When he wasn't reading Proust in French, Dan hosted a lobster feast for his huge family. Both his parents were still alive.
For an only child like me, the scene really was quite intimidating. Fortunately, I knew one of his brothers, an artist in New York. Mark and Joe had visited us in the Pines.
Tina and Brooks invited us to stop by their home before we headed home.
Dan's mother was there, too.
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