Residents are closing up their backyard pools, and lakeside cabin owners are bringing in the docks. With a chill in the air, tubers no longer pack the Chippewa River clumped like floating lumber. Autumn, for all its merits, brings on the serious temperature drop that makes water lose its fun side. For my slapstick humor money, it’s hard to beat watching someone – especially a friend or relative – fall unexpectedly into water on a hot summer day. 

    A friend told me about his neighbor who stopped by, in his work clothes, and got to talkin’ on the deck by the pool. A problem with the pool’s heating system came up in conversation, and the neighbor wanted to have a look. As he was bending over poolside tinkering around with the heater, he leaned too far, slipped, and splashed ass-over-tea-kettle into the drink. 

    When telling me this story, my friend had a hard time getting it out, repeatedly breaking out into laughter before he could make it to the punch line. And even though I knew what was coming, and I was experiencing the event second hand, I was laughing just as hard. It’s the kind of pratfall that one sees in bad sitcoms and low-budget comedies but rarely presents itself in real life.           

    It’s why a dunk tank always draws a crowd of grinning onlookers. Even so, people don’t revel about such things afterwards because the victim is expecting to fall eventually. And once soaked the first time, the tension is lost.

    Along those lines, I’ve seen people spontaneously jump into hotel pools fully clothed, but since the action is completely voluntary, the reaction of the crowd is more of a perplexed curiosity. No one shouted, “Wow, that was Krazy!” Rather, the onlookers pondered, “Are you crazy?”

     Humor-wise, aquatic blunders are a seasonal thing. Come winter, mishaps around the water stop being hilarious and become dangerous. I got a hint of this on a frigid January day when I was 12 years old. While staying with Grandma, my brother and I were horsing around at the city park. I was jumping around on the ice of the park creek when I hit a thin patch, broke through and dropped thigh deep into the current. My brother helped me out, but it really was no laughing matter. Vaguely aware of “catching my death” through pneumonia and frostbite, we solemnly and quickly walked the half-mile back to Grandma’s – my soaked boot liners, pants, socks, and long-johns turning into ice by the second. 

    My concerned grandmother sprung into action, putting my clothes in the washer and dryer, leaving me pant-less for an hour and a half. Trying to help me avoid sitting half-naked while waiting, she offered a spare pair of her brown polyester slacks. I reluctantly accepted. Even though it was the warmer choice, it was humiliating and all wrong.

    Come spring, river waters present different dangers. Last March on the Eau Claire River, a kayaker tipped over in the bitterly cold rapids. Rescue workers arrived barely in time to save the man’s life. Swimming to shore wasn’t an option with a raging current and hypothermia kicking in.

    The story made national news. I work with the guy’s dad, and he talked about the tastelessness of a lot of the jokes made at his son’s expense. One would expect some ribbing from the guy’s close circle of friends once everything was OK. But the media frenzy by heckling morning DJs on this near death...it’s just not anything to joke about. 

    Without a doubt, area waters can be deadly in any season. But in summer, at least they can also have a sense of humor.

    Up north this past August, I was learning to water ski with two childhood friends. They were pulling me on a jet ski when we decided to call it quits. They circled around to pick me up so we could all pile on and ride back together. As I was trying to climb on from the water, one friend tried to give me a hand up. When I slipped, my weight tilted him and the jet ski. In his prolonged effort to stay on board, he tipped the whole jet ski over, dumping the driver along with the two of us. It was like the Three Stooges guest starring on “America’s Funniest Home Videos,” complete with plenty of arm-flailing. 

    It’ll be something to think about when my snow blower won’t start in February ... three responsible adults spitting out water and laughing like 12-year-olds, still unaware that there’s no substitute for summer.