I suppose I could regard this
topic of “My Favorite Water Sport” to be rather presumptuous. It assumes that I
engage in a variety of water sports, let alone doing any at all - - which I
don't. I never have.
I do, however, swim
frequently; and I have done that most of my life. Of course for me, that's not a sport. Swimming would fall under the athletic
heading of “physical education and recreation,” that is, I do it for exercise
and health. Ergo, “re-creation.”
My parents taught me very
young to swim, probably starting around two or three. We would go frequently to the university
swimming pool. I never have enjoyed
being exposed to chlorine, but the indoor pool had the advantage of being open
during inclement and cold weather.
I actually signed up for, and
completed, a life-guard class so that I could get a job at the city pool during
the summer. The teacher, however, after
the class was completed, refused to give me my certificate because she said
that, at age fifteen, I was too young. I
had to be sixteen. Thanks a lot! Why didn't she tell me that at the start?
By the time I was twenty, I
had developed sufficient breath capacity that I could swim 2 ¼ lengths of the
pool under water in one breath. Now that
I am superannuated, I don't even put my face under.
During summers, my brother and
I used to go to the city pool. That was
the setting for my first sexual dream, “seeing” a girl swimming under water,
nude. I wasn't all that fond of the city
pool. It was situated near the junk yard
next to the river, which occasionally flooded the whole area including the
pool. My knowing what was in that
flood-water did not thrill me very much.
And, that flooding didn't even have anything to do with the “Baby Ruth”
that I saw floating there one day.
During some summers, I swam in
a variety of lakes. There were two
man-made lakes nearby. Also, my family
and I did some camping near lakes, and we invariably swam. I recall one called “Crystal Lake,“ and it
certainly was. The lake had a pure
white, sandy bottom with nothing growing and with no fish. I could look straight down to the
bottom. I also attended several summer
camps, and, of course, they always were situated adjacent to lakes.
On several occasions, I swam
in the ocean. I did not care for the
salt and the waves and, sometimes, cold, especially on the North-Atlantic
coast. I especially was wary of the
Portuguese men-of-war floating about or on the beach in Florida.
At least, I did not suffer the fate of the
scuba-diver off the lighthouse point who was pulled under and killed by a giant
squid. Those who recovered his body
claimed that, from the size of the sucker marks on him, that the squid may have
been sixty feet long. That sounds rather
extreme, but recent explorations have filmed squid bigger than that. That could
not have been a very enjoyable way to go.
I still swim several days per
week at the pool here in the city. That
assumes, of course, that it is not shut down again for maintenance. As I said before, I now am superannuated; therefore,
I choose to attend the “seniors swim hour,” which I refer to as “the old farts'
swim.”
 |
| Elderly Man Swimming |
During summers when they have
had youth swimming classes just before ours, and the boys in the locker room
see us shambling wrecks of dissipated humanity, I wonder what they think. Or perhaps, they, being so young, cannot
relate to us. Perhaps they regard us as
non-human aliens.
 |
| Young Swimmer |
© 22 Oct 2016
About
the Author
I have had a life-long fascination with
people and their life stories. I also
realize that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or
fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual
ones. Since I joined this Story Time
group, I have derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group. I do put some thought and effort into my
stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.
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