Worthy Witness

Claudia and I had worked together for years; she as the office manager, and I as the only woman salesperson.  Our relationship changed when she came to work with me at the agency.  As contemporaries, we  became the best of friends.

Our children were about the same age; she had three boys, and I had too many to talk about.  So, we primarily talked about her boys and their antics, and I gave her my unprofessional therapeutic advice.  We generally had our best talks over the incredibly mouth-watering brownies she made with a topping from sweetened condensed milk, toasted coconut and chocolate chips.  My waistline has never been the same.

That summer of our golden years I had picked up a huge rubber raft with oars at the Army and Navy store,  and Claudia and I decided to take it out on Bantam Lake.  We blew it up at my house, hoisted it onto the car and ran it down to the lake early, just after my kids were on the bus.  Her husband took care of hers for life, but at that time I was in sole charge of mine.  Each of us wore crummy t-shirts, shorts and sneakers.  Our cooler was filled with the luscious brownies, sandwiches and iced tea; a little fruit and Claudia’s cigarettes.

The day was splendid, just as planned; a typical Connecticut morning with bright blue skies and barely a cloud.  When we launched our craft, there was hardly a ripple in the placid waters.  It was a Monday in June and weekenders had left; the lake had few boats on it.  We took turns paddling until we lost one of the sticks.  It was floating just beyond the raft, and I thought I could reach it with the other.  Unfortunately, when I stood up, the raft leaned sideways, and I fell overboard.  “How hard is it to get back into a raft,” I thought.  Claudia had the presence to remain seated in the stern during my fiasco, and the boat, thankfully, did not flip over.

That day I found out how hard it is to lift a leg with waterlogged sneakers out of the water onto a raft.  For an aged woman, it was impossible.  The stars, though, were in position to favor me, and as I hanged on, I was able to inch the shoes off.  Contrary to public opinion, sneakers float only for a certain time, and plastic oars float away at an amazing speed.   I saw them go just as I hoisted myself up and over the side of the raft.

Although we didn’t see any boats we could flag down, the day, we thought, was not an entire loss; our picnic was still intact.  After the physical and emotional exertions, we were starving.    Polishing off the contents of our carry-on, we gave little thought as to how long we might be stranded in the middle of a five-mile long lake.  I decided to remove my shirt thinking I could use it as a mast or makeshift kite, or something to wave at a passing boat, but there wasn’t any wind and no one was on the lake at that time of day.   Lulled by the aimless drift of the water and the warmth of the sun, we hunkered down for a short nap.

I awoke first and nudged Claudia with my bare foot.  By the looks of the sky, we had passed high noon and were reaching beyond mid afternoon.  We had to get serious.  Our drifting had taken us further into the bay, and there were few houses in this protected area, most of them unoccupied until July.  We decided to use our hands as paddles.  At first we were just spinning around, and once our hands were in synch, we started to move inland.  It seemed we were moving at a snail’s pace when we sprang a leak and then time lay suspended.  Using paper cups, we bailed with one hand and paddled with the other.  By the time the state police found us, our little raft had only one section still filled with air, and we were glued to it, paddling with our feet.  Strong arms lifted us into their boat; one of the policemen covered my shirtless, sun-burned back with a blanket.

Claudia had sun poisoning and was out of work for a week; in bed for three days.  A side benefit was that she kicked the habit and gave up smoking.   I recovered quickly, but did, for the first two days, shine as though radioactive.  That same summer we bought individual kayaks and took some lessons.  To this day, we use the lake only for swimming and do our best boating on the Bantam River.  Though we have aged, the brownies have not changed.