Swimming Lessons
During the spring of 1990, the US Marines assigned me to a temporary billet to work as a lifeguard for the summer. I trained hard then by the end of training, I was able to swim the required ten laps in our Olympic-sized pool under 9 minutes before getting my certification.
During that summer, a young lady asked me where and when I learned how to swim. This is the story I told her:
I was about 7, having just finished helping grampa with tilling the acres of land we owned, I was taking our carabao (water buffalo) to the lake to drink and bathe. My friends were there also, playing at the swimming hole. In the Philippines, the local lake served many purposes. In one sitting, you could see ladies washing clothes, children swimming, carabaos bathing, trash floating down stream, fishing…well, those are mostly the good things. I won’t get into the other grody details.
That particular day bothered me. It was the first time I ever remembered feeling I was an outcast. All my friends knew how to swim and they were able to play at the deeper end of the river where I couldn’t join them. Saddened, I took the carabao back to the farm and mulled over my sadness a little bit.
After a while, I decided I wasn’t going to let this feeling get the best of me. I went back to the swimming hole. By the time I got there, everyone had left and the sun was beginning to set at the horizon. Nevertheless, I jumped in at the shallow end and dogpaddled my way from one end of the hole to the other without touching the lake floor. “I can do this” I thought to myself.
Once confidence took hold of my senses, I slowly lowered myself at the deep end, hanging onto a vine with one hand. Then all at once, I kicked against the wall and pushed myself out towards the middle of the lake and let my body glide over the water. To my delight, I was able to dog paddle to the other edge of the lake to my best friend’s house. Joel wasn’t at all surprised to see me. “About time” was all he said.
By week’s end, I was swimming the length of the lake from one edge of the town to the other.
I was still in deep though in my recounting the events of the past when a Marine from my squadron wafted away the cloud of memory I envisioned as he told me to get back to headquarters immediately. We were being deployed to Saudi Arabia.
During that summer, a young lady asked me where and when I learned how to swim. This is the story I told her:
I was about 7, having just finished helping grampa with tilling the acres of land we owned, I was taking our carabao (water buffalo) to the lake to drink and bathe. My friends were there also, playing at the swimming hole. In the Philippines, the local lake served many purposes. In one sitting, you could see ladies washing clothes, children swimming, carabaos bathing, trash floating down stream, fishing…well, those are mostly the good things. I won’t get into the other grody details.
That particular day bothered me. It was the first time I ever remembered feeling I was an outcast. All my friends knew how to swim and they were able to play at the deeper end of the river where I couldn’t join them. Saddened, I took the carabao back to the farm and mulled over my sadness a little bit.
After a while, I decided I wasn’t going to let this feeling get the best of me. I went back to the swimming hole. By the time I got there, everyone had left and the sun was beginning to set at the horizon. Nevertheless, I jumped in at the shallow end and dogpaddled my way from one end of the hole to the other without touching the lake floor. “I can do this” I thought to myself.
Once confidence took hold of my senses, I slowly lowered myself at the deep end, hanging onto a vine with one hand. Then all at once, I kicked against the wall and pushed myself out towards the middle of the lake and let my body glide over the water. To my delight, I was able to dog paddle to the other edge of the lake to my best friend’s house. Joel wasn’t at all surprised to see me. “About time” was all he said.
By week’s end, I was swimming the length of the lake from one edge of the town to the other.
I was still in deep though in my recounting the events of the past when a Marine from my squadron wafted away the cloud of memory I envisioned as he told me to get back to headquarters immediately. We were being deployed to Saudi Arabia.
posted by Noel | 10:45 AM
2 Comments:
Dear Noel...Such a nice childhood memory!
I can just imagine that large assortment of adults, little people, and animals in that cool lake, having a good and useful time.
How beautiful the sound of small children having fun, and the chatter of the mothers as they wash their clothes, and the gentle murmuring of fathers as they fish, all of this music in the midst of the quiet sighs of the animals, as they enjoy their "coffee" break at this giant water cooler!
How lonely the feeling of one small boy, as he hides the fact that he cannot swim.
But then how determined that same small laddie is as he comes back to the water when there is nobody present but himself and God above.
This is the time when he learns to swim!
Starting with the dog paddle no less! The beginning of learning to swim!
Just as a baby does not learn to walk until he has mastered the task of crawling!
Good for you Noel!
And good for your best friend who doesn't make a big deal out of your accomplishment but with his few short words tells you in his own confident way that he knew all along that you had it in you to be a great swimmer!!
When my dad was in the air force, Noel it was almost required that we "air force brats" learn to swim.
We would have to take take swimming lessons in the summer and I was able to pretty well pass just up to the third level, but failed miserably because I couldn't surface dive.
I tried my hardest but was never able to dive with my legs straight as I cut the surface.
Always crooked they were!
The air force swimming instuctors weren't as hard on us children, as they were on you Filopino boys and girls.
We only had to swim two lengths of the pool before we were allowed in the "deep end".
I must say I excelled using the high diving board.
No, I STILL coudn't do a perfect dive, Noel but I was one mean cannon baller!!
A few years back Bernie and I used to love going to the public simming pool and while Bernie was a perfect diver and good flipper, I was, at the age of almost 50 just doing cannon balls.
I remember, one time just as I was hitting the water after doing one off the small dive, I heard a little voice behind me exclaiming to his friends, "Hey look at what that old lady can do off the small board!!.
When I retuned to the surface, I said to the little guy..Yea? Well you just look and see what this OLD LADY can do off the high dive.
You guessed it Noel!
One great cannon ball off that board, one mighty splash and one loud "WOW" from those little kids!!
Hmm.. I wonder if that giant splash had something to do with my being so fat?.......from Terry
Have a nice Lord's Day Noel.
I have to work my sister Betty's shift. It is the first time in years that I have had to work on a Sunday.
Terry.
Once again, the words "Thank You" cannot fully express the gratefulness in my heart for your comments. Nevertheless, these words will no doubt find themselves under your comments more often than not. God bless you.
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