17 Tries
The summer I turned fourteen my family trekked across the continent from New York to California and spent some time visiting with my dad’s “little brother,” Uncle Dick and his family. He took us to a nearby lake where he had a ski boat. My über-coordinated older brother quickly learned to ski and then, that very day, to slalom. I, however, was a dismal failure. Time after time I tried to get up but only landed skis akimbo face-first or tail-first or belly-first back in the water, retrieving lost skis to give someone else a turn and wait for another try. Uncle Dick very patiently encouraged me keep to trying. And just before we all went home, after seventeen tries (Yes, by then everyone was counting even though they were supportive too.), his boat pulled a very tired me up out of the water to “fly” over the surface—enjoying the reflection of the mountains and setting sun on the water and even crossing the wake a couple times. I happily skimmed the water for a complete circuit and then near the dock I tossed away the rope to settle gently back into the water. I left the lake sunburned, tired and sore—but terribly glad that I hadn’t given up.
That was the day I learned that not all endeavors are easy. Some worthwhile things are way difficult; but if you keep on trying it can be done.
For the record, my über-coordinated brother—also named Dick, after our uncle—was in the water with me, patiently helping me find the right angle until I finally got it right. The “don’t be a Dick” admonition completely flies over my head. No, you’re wrong. The world would be a much happier place if more people were like the Dicks whom I know.