Issue # 26 Fears And Choices
Something a little different - color today.
Water Woes
I think I’m about five years old.
There is a lake nearby that gives swimming lessons and, for some reason, my strongest memory of it includes lollipops that were on a looped string.
The lollipops are important because I’m pretty sure getting candy was the reason I kept letting my parents take me to the lake. It certainly was not the swimming part.
Apparently the conversations went something like this: “Now, you promise you will listen to the swimming teacher and go into the water, right?” “Yes, I will go into the water.” “You promise that THIS TIME you will really really go into the water?” “Yes, I will really really really go into the water.”
I did not go into the water.
I don’t think even one time.
And the parents got wise to the lollipop business pretty quickly so those stopped too.
I can’t tell you why I refused to cooperate. But it marked the beginning of a long complicated relationship with swimming and watersports.
My memory is that, every summer of my young life, an attempt was made to teach me to swim.
There were lessons in local pools, at the YWCA, at Girl Scout camp – nothing was working.
The Girl Scout camp was probably the worst because my swimming ineptitude was trumpeted to the world via the color of the bathing cap I was force to wear.
Yes, I said bathing cap.
I don’t even know if those are a thing anymore but they definitely were back in my scouting days. Absolutely everyone had to wear one. Not just people like me who had long hair but everyone.
I understood the caps at the swimming pool – they had to keep all that hair from clogging the filter.
But the lake?
Seriously?
There was only one real reason for caps at the lake and it was the aforementioned ranking of swimming ability.
Caps were: Red (Complete disaster, don’t let this girl into any water deeper than two and a half feet. And forget about boats.) Yellow (Slightly less of a disaster, allow her into a depth of three and a half feet and she can struggle with those giant oars in a rowboat.) White (Normal swimmer - can be trusted in water over her head - go ahead and let her paddle a canoe.) Blue (Jackpot! We have watched her successfully tread water for ten minutes wearing long pants and a long sleeved shirt while we dripped extra water onto her head. Give her the magical pass to the sailboat.)
Ultimately it was the sailboat that did the trick. I was obsessed with getting to sail. It took me five long summers but I eventually made it.
To be honest, sailboats and canoes are still where my heart lies. Motorboats not so much.
Maybe because I never saw powerboats or water skiing at any camp I attended. And camp was the only way my parents could afford to get me close to any water bigger than a puddle.
Things like lake cottages and motorboats and water skis were for people with deeper pockets.
I have been behind a powerboat only twice in my life – once on water skis and once on an inner tube. Despite the patience of a dear friend who was convinced ANYONE could water ski, I just couldn’t stay upright for more than six seconds. Ten attempts and several gallons of water up my nose were enough for me. I switched to the inner tube.
It turns out there are a few dirty little secrets no one mentions when they say “Let’s go tubing!”
A) The tube bounces around a LOT.
B) Even MORE water gets shoved into your face (at 25-35 miles an hour) than when falling off water skis
C) When you have had enough, and decide to let go, thinking you will gently sink into the water, you discover that you are now bouncing like a skipping stone across the surface of said water and it feels as hard as concrete.
That was the end of that.
I’m fine with it.
Copyright© 2023 Anne Morse Hambrock All rights reserved.
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