My mom had a cigar box full of swimming medals she earned as a champion of three states, if you call Washington DC a state, along with Virginia and Maryland. Her mother kept loads of newspaper clippings of her wins during adolescence. People said she swam like a bullet. Then she went away from swimming, but she had confidence from those years in the pool.
I learned how to swim during summers at Tam High School in Mill Valley, and spent hours playing ‘tea party,’ diving off the high dive into twelve-feet, so deep I wanted to hold onto the side.
I decided to join the swim team in High School, after my sophomore Biology teacher showed the class two lung slices, one who smoked, and a non-smoker, I was so grossed out I stopped smoking cigarettes (after six years at that point). Talk about bathing suits we wore, ordered to wear by our coaches, black tanks with straps in back and saggy butts. Five days a week workouts, for at least two hours. We shared lanes and did all the strokes, back, free, breast and butterfly. Kickboards were a big part, too, over and over. Continue reading “Swimming for life” »
When I taught high school as an art teacher, my colleague, Bud, and I shared a studio-classroom, and we often made our own art in there. As teachers, we used our projects to inspire students to try something new, and maybe learn something. Frequently, as we worked alongside our students, they became curious about what artists make, how artists think, and they wanted to know more about how Bud and I made our own things. Some students took chances they may not have risked before they watched us work. They often asked questions about ideas, and many times, we taught them ‘go for their own idea.’ Making mistakes is actually a good way to grow.
Did you ever notice people thank us for listening, not for speaking? Nothing is more satisfying than a good listener, because complete attention feels like a precious gift. I’m a talker, so listening was not easy, as it might be for others who naturally listen. I had to learn the difference between active and passive listening, which really helped me in my life and career. Even if I don’t like someone, I can create a worthwhile experience for both of us by deciding to listen, focusing on my words, tone of voice and non-verbal behaviors so our interaction doesn’t feel like a waste of time.
“Never write anything on paper because it can be used against you,” Mom warned me as a child. I was twelve when my sixth grade teacher told me to start writing a journal. She gave us little blue lined notebooks and time to write in them each day. I was prepared to lie about my life. I really wanted to write my truth, however, so I wrote about what was going on at home, booze, loss, blood and heartbreak. My dad was an alcoholic and soon went to a hospital, and his brother committed suicide because he couldn’t stop drinking. We lived in a periodically insane alcoholic world of never knowing when things would explode. I felt mortified every time I thought about Dad’s recent black out and how he drunkenly fell down at the local pool shredding his elbow. I overheard a woman call me ‘the drunk man’s daughter’ and I never wanted to return to the pool or take another breath on this planet.
