Reporting From Glendale, California.
One summer when I was about 10 years old, my mother enrolled me in a beginning swimming class. I had never before had experience swimming, though I had splashed around in shallow ends of pools.
I went to every class diligently (but secretly against my will or desire), and the instructor taught us all there was to teach about swimming.
On the last day of class, each student was to jump into the deep end of the pool, hit the bottom, push themselves back up to the surface, and then swim across to the other side of the pool. This was sort of like our final exam.
Each kid jumped in and swam across. Then it was my turn. I held my breath and dived in.
And I proceeded to sink like a stone. I hit the bottom of the pool and did not move. After a few moments, the instructor panicked, jumped in, and rescued me from drowning.
I don't know who felt worse. Him or me.
This entry was written during Blogathon 2006 (held from Saturday, July 29, 2006, 6:00 a.m., through Sunday, July 30, 2006, 6:00 a.m.) in support of Bread for the Journey. A total of $335.92 has been raised so far. You can still pledge money RIGHT NOW through Monday, July 31, 2006. Sponsor this event by clicking here RIGHT NOW. And here are full details about my involvement in this event.