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It was a beautiful morning when Gil parked his car at the Kayak Shak on Fish Creek. A couple of college-aged girls were enthusiastically running the place that day, and they got him set up to paddle. As he got ready to shove off, he asked, “Should I go right or left?”
The girl said, “You can’t go very far to the right because it gets shallow, so left is better. But you can do both!” And she gave him a big shove into the water. Gil headed left, against the current. The creek flowed east toward the Hudson River, but the water moved so slowly that Gil hardly noticed any drag. The paddling was easy, and he saw a lot of ducks, a great blue heron, and some jumping fish. Eventually, he paddled around a big bend, and the creek widened as it headed past the big rowing center. Little motor boats trailed fully teamed rowing shells of different sizes. Some shells had coxswains keeping pace by yelling into loudspeakers. Most of the boats had kids rowing, but a few had adults. Maybe Gil would try rowing.
He paddled under the Route 9P bridge, then through the headwaters of the creek and into Saratoga Lake. The lake water was choppy, jostling Gil around in his kayak, so he decided to head back. He negotiated a few waves as he turned around and found himself heading into a steady wind. Now it took a lot more effort to make headway. Water splashed over the bow, getting Gil wet. His hat flew off his head, but when he turned around to grab it, it had already disappeared. With great effort, he paddled to the far right side of the creek to stay out of the way of the rowing shells. The wind was calmer near that shore, it seemed, and he eventually made it to the big bend in the creek, where the wind and waves subsided. He was soaking wet, but it felt good in the heat. He drank from his water bottle to stay hydrated and paddled back to the Kayak Shak.
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“Thanks for having me for dinner,” said Gil. The younger kids, Ziggy and Dez, were seated on either side of him, their food cut up into tiny pieces. Jazz was sitting in the corner, looking at her cell phone. Gil asked, “Ziggy, when are you going to learn to cut up your own food?”
He blushed and stared at his mom. “Maybe since he’s six now, he can learn,” Julia said. “Jazz, put your phone down. So, Grampy, what have you been up to?”
“I’ve been trying different hobbies. I went fly fishing on the Battenkill River, I went on a long bike ride, I played pickleball, and this morning, I went kayaking over on Fish Creek.”
Ziggy asked, “What’s pickleball?”
“It’s a cross between tennis and ping-pong. You play on a very small tennis court using paddles that are a little bigger than ping-pong paddles. The ball is a pink wiffle ball. It’s fun!”
“Wow, you’re doing a lot!” said Mike. “What else are you going to try?”
“I’m thinking about belly dancing.”
Jazz and Dez burst out laughing. Ziggy looked distraught.
“Grampy’s just kidding,” said Julia. “He’s not going to be belly dancing, I hope.” More giggling. “How’s your sleeping?”
“It’s still horrible, but I’ve started therapy for it. I got hypnotized!”
“Wow! What was that like?” asked Julia.
“It’s hard to describe. The therapist talked me through relaxation techniques, and I was in a super-relaxed state of some sort. He then asked me to remember certain aspects of my nightmares so I could remember them without being stressed.”
“Is it working?”
“Not yet, but I’ve only just started. Right now, I’m limited to driving in the morning, but I’m optimistic. I think getting more active and losing some weight will help too. I think I’m going to make myself a cup of decaf. Does anybody else want coffee? Dez, you want a cup of coffee?” Dez giggled and shook her head with an emphatic no.
Gil sat in an Adirondack chair on the front porch drinking his decaf. Ziggy and Dez were drawing with chalk on the driveway. After a few minutes, Julia sat down next to him, and Gil’s eyes cracked open.
“Oh, did I wake you?” Julia asked. “I’m so sorry. I think it’s great that you’ve launched into trying all these hobbies. So far, pickleball is the only one involving other people though.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s probably time I try for some more socialization.”
“When are you going to take your ring off?”
Gil looked at it, twirled it around a bit, and decided to take it off right then and there. He pulled, but it wasn’t going to come off. “Can you get me some dental floss?” Julia looked at him curiously. She brought him a container of floss, and Gil wound a long piece tightly around his knuckle and through the ring. He slowly unwound the floss and it smoothly moved the ring over his knuckle and off. “There. It’s off.” Gil stuck it in his pocket.