I always loved the water – pools, oceans, lakes not so much but I learned to enjoy them during my 30+ plus summers at Beaver Lake. My early swimming could best be described as “frantic dog paddle.” And going into water over my head? Not a chance. Over time I became frustrated at this inability. Though I was encouraged to do a lot as a kid- there were certain things that I was not encouraged to do: Ski? “You’ll break your leg!” Archery? “You’ll shoot your eyes out!” Swim? “You ate five hours ago, you’ll get cramps” (which is Jewishmotherspeak for: “you’ll drown!”). My paternal grandparents lived two blocks from the ocean. Did they ever go there? I have no memory. Their summer recreation consisted of sitting in webbed beach chairs in front of their home Brighton 7th Street drinking seltzer (the family business ‘N. Bornstein, Brklyn, NY’ is long gone – though I do have one bottle left – more valuable to me than the Hope Diamond). My maternal grandparents had a locker at Brighton Beach Baths – the Maidstone for the East Flatbush set) and I have fond memories of playing in the surf. As the seasons changed they wintered in Miami Beach and there was a pool overlooking Biscayne Bay. It was usually empty as the residents of Forte Towers were heavily engaged in poolside gin rummy and canasta. But there is where I did my first foray into a pool. Unfortunately whatever lessons I had never stuck and I grew up ill at ease in the brine.

I started going out to Coney about 10 years ago (more about the cold stuff later). In the winter there isn’t much real swimming going on – it’s mostly scream, play, repeat. But I started going out there in warmer weather too. And I did so with a fellow member who I met at the club. Dave and I would go out early mornings on warm days. He claimed he wasn’t a swimmer – more of runner and always training for a marathon when I first met him.  A little over a year ago a friend of his convinced him to do the Little Red Lighthouse swim – 6 miles up the Hudson. His friend was unable to do it and I know Dave had some trepidation. I volunteered to help out at the swim and dropped him off at 79th Street and then drove up to the finish at 207th Street. It was a long ride but I was in a car on the Henry Hudson Parkway – not in the Hudson River. Dave finished and we celebrated with beer and martinis (before noon – but how often does a friend swim 6 miles upstream?).

Like Richie and Bill before him, I was inspired and it was then that I made up my mind to learn to really swim. In doing research I found the Total Immersion program. I went on line and found out there were clinics and group classes – but I wanted lessons all by myself. It turned out the originator of TI, Terry McLaughlin had a studio in upstate New Paltz. I told Diane we should spend a weekend in the country –and she agreed to hang out in New Paltz for two days while I spent much of it in the water. We stayed in a bed and breakfast nearby the studio run by the most in-shape couple: marathoners, swimmers, vegan eaters – put us to shame (but made great breakfasts).

Thought the lessons were helpful I left a bit disheartened and went back to my home pool at St. Sebastian’s in Woodside and continued with the local teacher there, Michael Jackson. Michael doesn’t look like a swimmer but is ‘buoyant positive’ and has the patience of a saint (as evidenced by his ability to teach handicapped kids with ease). I figured like getting to Carnegie Hall it was all about practice. So I did.

And one day it all clicked.

I made it across the pool doing the crawl without the lifeguard rushing over to check if I was “in distress.”