Breakfast of Champions

Three years! That's how long it took me to pass my beginner's swim test when I was in grade school! I would go on Saturday mornings all the way in to the Hamburg High School pool for lessons. Often riding with my best friend, Diane, and another classmate, Jane, who lived further up Heinrich Road, on the section that was years later pinched off by the highway that came through, our parents took turns driving. Well, I'm assuming now that they took turns, the only one I remember driving us is Jane's Dad who would have us in stitches laughing the whole time. And I guess we did not go every Saturday morning, but it would be several Saturdays in a row – perhaps it was Saturdays during the school year.

And in spite of my thinking how mortifying it would be to come home with a bad report card, it seemed to be all right that I kept failing my beginner's swim test. My parents thought it was funny that I was too weak, too uncoordinated to swim. And I don't recall trying particularly hard to master the techniques, no personal pressure. So it took me three years. Did Diane and Jane fail alongside me? Likely not – it's just in my memories they were there with me the whole time.

Now our instructor was an older man, Mr. Roerke – something like that, and he was only old to me because he was perhaps a little older than my parents. He was slightly famous – the superintendent of the Hamburg School system! I did not know what a superintendent was, but figured he was someone of authority and I should maybe be afraid of him.

First thing he would make us do when we arrived for our lesson on Saturday mornings was......get in the water!

Oh, but I always wanted to ease myself into the pool. After all, the temperature would take some getting used to!

But no! He was not going to wait all day for kids like me to have that luxury.

“Best thing is to just jump in!” he would bellow to all of us, good-naturedly, but still....

So I would jump in, or, if already trying to ease in, I would take the plunge. And a shock would whip through my system and I felt like my heart would stop!

“No one ever had a heart attack jumping into a swimming pool!” Mr. Roerke would shout and then chuckle above the splashes.

I read just recently, in Google, so you know.....people can indeed get a heart attack from the shock of submerging into cold water! So there's that.

Of course, the Hamburg High School swimming pool was not that cold, and as a healthy child, my heart was hearty. But sometimes it did feel as if the ticker would conk out on me!

Once we were in the water, Mr. Roerke would tease us about our inability to climb back out again at the sides of the pool when it came time to practice dives. Our arms were weak – and not just mine, as we attempted to pull ourselves out, often falling back in the water again.

“Looks like some of you didn't have your Wheaties for breakfast this morning!” came his bellow as he stood so tall leaning over the edge of the water at us

How could a line like that not last a lifetime?

How many times have I said that to my kids, other kids, my husband, over a slip during the day, “Someone's missing Wheaties today!”

Mr. Roerke was never impatient with me or made personal snarky comments about my not trying hard enough – no pressure other than the jumping in and climbing out. And that was nice – compared to the rest of my schooling. I think it was the diving that kept me from passing the beginner's test three times in a row. And by the third time, I was afraid to pass for fear that the advanced beginner's course would require more strength and more diving and I didn't want to do it!

These days, on summer Saturday mornings, Mike takes us out on the boat. He drops anchor in the lake or one of its rivers or creeks. I ease myself and finally plunge into the water. The water is very warm, but I don't want to take chances on shocking the system because, you know, Google says....

couldn't find a noodle picture

And I don't swim much, but I can – it's just I find swimming a tad boring. Much more fun is being held afloat by one of those noodle things – basking in the water in the sun – stretching my arms and legs and toes. Mike and I often have the most unique chats on our noodles. One day I told him all about my grade school swim lessons, and not surprisingly, Mike found them to be believable! Getting out of the water, it's not Wheaties that help me get back into the boat, but rather a small ladder, and a handle.

When riding on Mike's boat, I am a good many miles and years and years away from Hamburg and those morning lessons – but I still smell the chlorine and hear the splashes and feel my youth again each time I take the plunge!

20200803 63 Breakfast of Champions!