A Swimming Life

They say when you’re drowning, your life flashes before your eyes. I think “they” got it terribly wrong. For 3 successive evenings this week, I went swimming in a beautiful brand new pool, one of the enticements of a gym I’m considering joining. I was never in any danger of drowning, but I had these same kinds of flashes, these little vignettes of my life, right from the moment I first slipped beneath the surface of the water.

The smell of chlorine hits me as I walk into the women’s changing room. I'm immediately brought back to my freshman year in high school, when swimming was a gym requirement. That pool was dank, dark and depressing, and the water felt oily. Nothing like this state-of-the-art facility, but the smell in the dressing room is exactly the same. At least I’m free of my 9th grade agonizing about how my hair will look afterwards, but I still modestly choose to change in a stall with a curtain just like I did back then. The time slot is reserved for women only, but unlike my PE class there is a noticeable difference in that all of the women here are much older than me. Maybe it’s the early hour I chose, but most look to be in their late 60’s and 70’s, the bathing caps are almost a dead giveaway. It seems to be a club of some sort and they congregate in the shallow end to do their aquatic exercises against the 3 sides of the pool, leaving the deep end all to myself. I’m perfectly happy with this arrangement because one of the reasons I'm swimming is for the solitude.

I stretch out to do what I came for and dive in. It feels great, not too cold, just right. I begin to swim laps back and forth across the width of the pool. The water is crystal clear, it feels so smooth as it glides off my skin, and I slide through the laps almost effortlessly. There is something so primordial and life affirming about being in water this way, although my favorite form of swimming is in the ocean, not a chlorinated pool. As I swim my mind goes back to being in the ocean as a child, the annual family vacations to the beaches of New Jersey. I think about my mother’s flowered bathing suit with the detachable skirt, and how my father had one pair of "swim trunks" that he wore year after year. I remember him showing me how to swim past the breakers to get to those gentle rolling waves, the ones you could backfloat on. Another memory from a childhood perspective: what a scary and powerful force of nature the ocean changed into at nighttime, when viewed from the boardwalk. It still does that to me.

I stop swimming after a while, and float on my back to rest. I feel just like I used to so long ago on those softly lapping waves in the ocean. A more recent memory comes to mind this time; being in the Caribbean with 3 of my children several years ago. It was their first trip ever to a tropical island, and their first exposure to the breathtaking beauty of an undersea dive. This is one of the best memories of my life. We had just gone down into the ocean from the boat, and all three were facing me, floating in a sort of semi-circle around me as we descended. I could clearly see their expressions through their scuba masks, their looks of astonishment and pure joy as we took in the unbelievable colors of the tropical fish swirling all around us, the brilliant coral below, the shimmering turquoise of the water.

Priceless.

Unfortunately, the membership to this particular gym is not priceless, it's much more than I can afford. I continue floating there for a while longer, enjoying how the water blocks out the voices and muffles the sounds of everything else.

I think to myself, I should do this. Just join and damn the expense of it. But summer is coming up fast, there'll be lots of opportunities to swim, lots of days where I will have access to other pools.

And hopefully, other oceans.

3 Day Pass

I'm not a gym person. Oh I've tried them, even joined several times - and I always get intimidated by all the equipment, especially that obscene open-your-thighs-wide contraption that inevitably has me facing some sweaty guy on a treadmill.



I get annoyed by all the people hanging out, perspiring to be workout professionals, flexing whilst guzzling their fancy-schmancy bottled water. Makes me want to just plop down on a yoga mat and eat doritos and make fun of them. To me, there are untold number of reasons why just plain walking is so much preferable over exercising at an indoor gym.

1. Being able to look in people's windows.
I'm amazed at the number of people (usually men) who think no one can see them in their bathrooms.

2. If the windows are open, hearing other mothers yelling at their kids.
This is always kind of vaguely comforting to me. God only knows what other walkers have heard when they've walked past my house.

3. Being outside, breathing in the fresh air, the wonder of nature, the changing of the seasons, etc.
Besides giving great calves, it really is good for your soul.

4. Being able to stop and smoke a cigarette if I want to, or make a phone call out of the earshot of my kids.
I stopped smoking years ago. I wouldn't dare smoke in front of my kids, they'd crucify me. But I started smoking "socially" several years back when I was out with someone and he lit up a Gauloise and it just looked so damn appealing. Ditto if I'm out and the other person is smoking, I'll usually have one with them. Or two or three, I'm pretty easily led that way. I used to keep a pack of Dunhills in the freezer for special occasions, but there just wasn't enough of those and they went stale.

5. If I don't feel like walking anymore, I can stop at my sister's house and she'll give me a ride home.
This has happened more than a few times. She only lives about a mile away and her house is a convenient restroom stop, or a place to scarf down one of those Entemmen chocolate donuts. They're a family addiction, we all keep a supply.

But just this week, I received a 3 day pass to an upscale and rather luxurious new gym that opened up close to where I live. They have a heated pool, which is the main reason I'm thinking of trying one out again. Swimming is envigorating, it tones the muscles and being underwater is so very soothing, you can shut everything else out. Even if swimming is all I use it for, it'll be worth the membership cost.

I'll be sure to let you all know how it goes. Glug.

Mommy Dearest

One of my teenaged sons called me a fucking idiot today. It wasn't under his breath (which I'm used to – I do have three 16-year olds after all) but right to my face. Needless to say I didn't handle it well. I went ballistic on him for it because no matter what – when things break down to that level there has to be some kind of parental counter, some kind of reaction, and a consequence he'll have to pay. I'm still mulling over what that'll be.


Our heated exchange began over something I try to make a habit of; eating dinner together. Admittedly, it doesn't always work out that way every night. But late this afternoon I took the time to make something good and when I called everyone in to eat, he filled his plate and took it back to the computer to eat there.

I seem to yell a lot these days. I often wonder if they'll look back years from now and remember me only for that. I love my children with all my heart, but teenagers are very tough to live with. Gentle conversation and sweet plaintive requests to do this or do that don't seem to move them off their butts. Not nearly in the same way saying it ten octaves louder the third time while simultaneously pulling the plugs on their computers.

Computers. Another whole tangent I could go off on here. I could offer up a good argument for how they contribute to the breakdown of a family, but I know it's already been debated endlessly. And having said that, it goes against the fact that I'd be hard pressed to live without one now myself.

Then I think of Isonomist, and how she gained a small but priceless legacy from her son through his blog, the sharing of which was truly a gift to so many of us here. It was an insight into her own child that she might not have had were it not for the computer.

Fast forward to now, a few hours later. I've calmed down, I'm not angry with my son anymore. He came in to me on his own accord a few minutes ago and apologized for his words, so maybe I'm doing something right here. But I'm still kind of stunned by him talking to me like that, so he's off the computer for the next 3 days.

You know, it's hard navigating through this parenting stuff sometimes. Especially when your sons have grown so much bigger than you.

Four 3 Pointers

My 16 year old son Michael sprints down the court like a gazelle. He's fluid tonight, loose and aggressive, he's on his game. The ball gets passed to him from a teammate on the left, Michael dribbles from midcourt looking for an opening, sees none, whips the ball to his right. Immediately it gets returned to him, he shoots and sinks a perfect 3 pointer.

Here comes Johnny singing oldies, goldies
Be-bop-a-lua baby what I say


There's a scramble for the rebound, the other team fumbles and lets it slip out of their hands, someone passes it back to Michael who is still hovering midcourt. He shoots again with flawless precision as if he's playing all alone, and indeed he is because no one is guarding him at that moment. Whoosh, 3 more points.

Here comes Johnny with the Power and the Glory
down in the tunnels tryin to make it pay

The opposition is good. Really good. It's been a two to three point game all the way through. The pressure is on but bolstered by his two critical shots, Michael is pumped and clearly having fun. He passes the ball to #3, his brother Patrick. I love it whenever I see this, see them working together as a team, on a team. Sibling rivalry runs high, even higher when you share the same birthday. Patrick has already scored a few baskets in this game and he wants to shoot now, wants to outshine Michael, but tonight just seems to be Michael's night.

Patrick almost loses the ball in an attempted steal, but retrieves it. That momentary lapse is unsettling but puts him back into the right frame of mind. He gets the ball back into his brother's hands and blocks the offense while Michael shoots, again from midcourt. Again, nothing but net.

He got the Action, he got the Motion
Yeah, the Boy can Play

It's Michael Jordan time, with 23 seconds left in the game. We're down by two, 57-59. Determination and sweat are clearly visible all over the court now, and the aggressiveness kicks up about 3 notches. Patrick is on the bench, but Michael is still out there, and he knows what he has to do. The opposition is all over him, they won't get fooled again.

Some nights are just inexplicably magical and there's magic in Michael tonight. With two seconds left in the game, Michael shoots his fourth and final 3 pointer, sinking it just as the buzzer sounds.

Game over, 60-59. One to remember.

Dedication, Devotion
Turning all the Nighttime into the Day

...And He does the Walk
He does the Walk of Life

*Special Thanks to Dire Straits* For Providing The
Soundtrack