I cannot swim. I never learned to swim. By sheer luch, through all these 85 years of my life, I was in no situation that required swimming for survival, like being on a sinking ship or being swept away by a high wave while wading too far off shore.
As a child I was afraid of the waves washing on the beach. As a grown-up, I was never attracted to get in the water except in a bathtub. I claimed that, born late in January and therefore being an Aquarius, I had plenty of water on me and didn’t need to soak my whole body in water. For the same reason I don’t drink much water, so I reason, and, in consequence, I tend to dehydrate.
It’s not that I tried to learn to swim. Swimming was a requirement for graduation when I finished my undergraduate education at UC Berkeley. I took a course in my Senior Year and I was proud to have managed to learn to float on my back and make a few back strokes, five or six as I recall. There was one test where, in the deepest part of the pool, I was to shoot straight down, touch the bottom with my feet and rise to the surface. I never could rise without the help of a teaching assistant who went down with me and lifted me up with hands on my waist. I like height; so, I enjoyed flying down from a diving board. But I never learned to shoot into the water head on, so I hit the water with the whole body, splashing the water all over and receiving painful impact all over my body.
I did go to a beach in summer once in a while. For a period of about ten years, I went to the shore from March to October whenever I had time to go; but I never went into the water. I went to lie on the sand and sunbathe and was never tempted to go into the water. I cultivated a dark skin that made people say I looked like an African; the color vanished in a year when I stopped sunbathing.
Once in a while I take a soaking bath in a tub filled with hot water; but I feel safer under a shower with no chance of drowning.
There is no chance now I will ever know how to swim, not even in a dream.
06.02.18
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