At age ten, I asked my older brother as we pounded baseballs into gloves. “You know the Raccoon Lake story, when the speedboat wake swamped me, and Mom pulled me out of the water?”
“Boy, she flew across the grass.”
“What if she didn’t notice?”
“Then I’d have a room to myself, stupid.” After a pause, he looked at me. “You were just two years old. She saved you. It’s that simple. What about it?”