I cleaned my closet and found this:
I thought I had sent all of these things back to my parents and was surprised to discover a plastic bin with some things in it stuffed in the back of my closet.
I started waterskiing when I was 4. I did my first ski show when I was 7. I found a yearbook stashed in the bin. Here I am in the yearbook (blocked out my brother’s face), everything was about skiing. I was 15 hear with my brother.
So I started looking through the yearbook. I was quite surprised to read some of it. There were a lot of boys who apparently “loved me to death”. I wonder what I thought when I read this in the year book later. You know we all went home and read all of the notes and got excited about the personal touches our friends would leave.
I seemed to get a fake apology on the last one which I was then called a “bitch again”. I assure you I was never a “bitch” to anyone The most shocking thing I read was this. It was written by my teacher! And then another one by a teacher. This seemed ever so inappropriate/fixated/etc.
I wonder, do the “popular” kids reminiss when they look at their yearbooks. Ah the good ole days? Hmm.
Waterskiing was my life though. In the little yearbook article it talks about how we skied year round, which we did.
The swivel ski was the hardest ski I had to master. Skiing didn’t come easy to me. To master the swivel ski, climb a pyramid on the water, and do doubles with a guy, it required constant tension on the muscles. If one muscle went weak, you would fall, the pyramid would fall, or you’d fall and take a guy down with you. I did what is called showskiing. We put on a show. We wore costumes and bright flashy make up. I skied every day on the swivel ski to master it. I even tied a bungee cord to a tree and practiced when I had no one to pull me behind the boat. Everything was hard about that ski. Where you put your foot in, the binder, spun 360 degrees. Just stepping off the dock onto the water and not falling was a challenge for me. The swivel ski:
Doubles was my favorite. I found this picture stuffed and folded in my baby book. This was taken at a ski show I did one summer when I was 16 in Indiana.
I worked in Indiana one summer when I was 16 and one summer when I was 17 in Canada doing ski shows. After I quit highschool and got my GED (you know, when all of the bad stuff happened) I got a job at Seaworld with their ski team. I was just discussing with my husband how during that summer I slept in my car most nights in the back dirt parking lot for employees of Seaworld. I would get up in the morning and shower at work. I rarely ate that summer. When I finished that job and came back to do college I decided I wanted to be a model. I have no idea if I really decided this, or my mom wanted me to. I can’t remember at all. But my mom took the money I made from a Mcdonald’s commercial when I was 8 to pay for these absolutely awful pictures.
The only modeling job I could have gotten with these pictures would have been for some sleeze lingere company! They were all like this and worse. Ends up the modeling agencies said my nose was too big to ever be anything. So that summed up my modeling career. I dumped that idea and went to college getting a degree in Early Childhood Education.
This was stuffed next to my baby book with the other pictures.
Ebb tide. My nana’s favoite song. She taught me this on her organ and somehow I saved her music book. I still find myself humming this song. It will just pop into my head out of the blue. I played it hundreds of times for her. She would sit at the kitchen table, look out over the lake, and listen to me play it over and over and over again. I smelled the book. It still had the faint smell of her house. I breathed it in so deeply that when I breathed out I was lightheaded. I smiled thinking about her. Through everything, every single thing that ever happen, I still have Ebb Tide and my Nana.