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coach and bags father. I packed a stack of books, bikinis, and Bain de Soleil Dark Tanning Oil (there was no such thing as SPF those days) to get me through the predictable boring days that lay ahead while my parents and younger sister fished, my two older sisters having already left home by this point.When we pulled into Sugar Loaf Cottage Resort I had to admit the cerulean lake was beautiful, the water warm and perfect for swimming, and the cottages filled with families, including some other petulant looking teens that seemed as bored as me. Settling in to our cabin that faced the lake, the parents had out the martini shaker, and I wandered around the resort. A group of teens called out," Hey, we're going skiing. Do you want to come?" Not having come out of my extremely shy stage yet, I said no and walked back to our cabin. I didn't have the nerve to tell them I'd never water skiied before. Apparantly, my dad had observed this whole transaction because as I climbed the cabin steps he asked," Do you want to learn how to waterski?" I admitted that I did. " Well, that's good, because I have skis in the boat." I turned an incredulous face towards him . "But I can't show you how," he said from the confines of his wheelchair, "so you're going to have to figure it out."The next morning the sun was white hot promising to hit 110 by midday. Dad putted past the 5 MPH bouy and opened her up speeding towards deeper water and away from other boats. I put on the ski belt and jumped in the cobalt blue water, delighted that it didn't take my breath away. Skiis were tossed to me and I struggled to control my body in the