Hydrotherapy

Last week, a plane crashed in India, killing over 200 people. Then the Department of Homeland Security handcuffed and body slammed a US Senator who dared to ask the Secretary a question. And then Israel started dropping bombs on Iran.  In a year of really not good weeks, last week was an especially not good week. 

On Thursday night, I also got to swim for the first time this summer. Between unseasonable stupid cold and nonstop rain and one damn thing after another, I hadn’t been in the water even once since the pool opened. I tried to swim on the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend but the water was North Atlantic in April cold. I wouldn’t have swum in that water unless I was assured of access to a floating door. 

The water was pretty much perfect. Swim practice was just finishing up and I got the one open lane. My son was coaching the 8-and-under girls as they practiced their breaststroke. I could hear him reminding them to pull toward their chests, not their hips. “Much better this time! Two hand touch, don’t forget! You guys got this!”  It was still midday bright at 6:30 PM, and the sun was still shining on the water and the trees were still rustling in the breeze and the lifeguards were still blowing their whistles and yelling “WALK!” at the swim team kids as they finished practice and headed toward the showers. I swam back and forth at my usual uneven pace, and felt totally free. For 45 minutes, it was like every other perfect summer evening. 

*****

I bought some new super thick Sharpies and made a new sign - Impeach 47 on the front and Abolish ICE on the back - for the No Kings protest on Saturday morning. At the top of that sign, I also wrote “Give me your huddled masses…” If my sons had been home on Friday night, I’d have asked them to draw a Statue of Liberty on my sign, because they can draw and I cannot. But my hand-lettering skills are solid, and the sign was good. 

And I got to swim again on Friday night. The weather was very uncertain all afternoon, and I knew it was going to rain - I just didn’t know when. I wanted to beat the storm so I finished work at 4:55 and I was in the pool at 5:08. The 8U kids were practicing their races for Saturday’s meet. “Remember,” my son yelled - “you’re going to sprint. Gwen, Jovie, Gianluca, David, Ada - eyes on me. What does ‘sprint’ mean?” Five little faces looked up and five little voices yelled back in unison: “Go as fast as you can!” My son is a good swimmer, and he’s a really good coach. 

The water was colder than I expected, but I didn’t dilly-dally. I got in and swam my laps as the sky got darker and the wind picked up, and I heard lifeguards calling back and forth to one another. “Was that thunder?” “No, it’s like half an hour away.” Pool lifeguards live by the radar, and they can predict a thunderstorm as well as any TV forecaster. 

*****

The protest was well-attended and energetic. Two drivers passing by flipped us off, and a few others stared resolutely ahead pretending that they didn’t see hundreds of people lining both sides of Georgia Avenue, but I would say about 90 percent of the people driving by honked and cheered and waved in approval. Truck drivers and bus drivers and police officers and a USPS driver who honked and waved got big rounds of applause in return. I ran into a few other alumni swim parents, and we all talked about our old summer Saturday mornings on the pool deck and our new summer Saturday mornings fighting fascism. This isn’t what any of us expected to be doing in our post-Dolphins era, but we’re still swim parents and swim parents do what needs to be done. 

I came home on Saturday buoyed with stick-it-to-the-man energy, and then got some rather terrible news that I’ll probably write about later. Remember December 31, 2020 when we were all “See ya, 2020, and don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out,” just so blithely sure that whatever happened next, it would have to be an improvement over 2020? LOL! Hilarious. 

*****

Well, when I say “we” were sure that things had nowhere to go but up after the shit show we fondly recall as the year 2020, I mean other people. I was hopeful, even cautiously optimistic, but I’m always prepared for even worse than the worst. I’m always waiting for the hammer to fall. You should hang out with me some time, because I’m really fun. 

But I’m alive and I have my family and my friends and my health, and pretty much everything else is icing on the cake. Including the unexpected Saturday afternoon weather break that allowed me to swim for the third straight day. The water had gotten a bit colder again after the Friday night rain, but it was the good, bracing kind of cold, the kind that shocks you just enough that you don’t really think about anything other than staying in motion. A few minutes of not thinking was exactly what I needed. It was nice to feel free and weightless for a little while. It’s nice to know that there are still little bright spots here and there, as long as you know where to look.