I was born into a family of swimmers, destined to dive into whatever body of water appeared in front of us, with little thought about temperature or current or logic, and I must say this one familial trait is one that I am most grateful for on the day to day through all my years. Both my parents were keen swimmers from start to finish and made sure that their whole brood learned the skill, as they did for my children too. Despite all their best preparations, I did almost drown one summer afternoon when I was probably five or six and we were all enjoying Jones Beach on Long Island. I followed an older brother out beyond my own ability, and eventually lost my strength. He buoyed me as best he could until the strong arm of the lifeguard pressed tight across my chest and ferried me to shore where my panicked parents stood waiting. When I recall that singular event I feel no fear only the salt water coursing around me, waves clipping my face, the broad blue below and above equally enticing, feeling safe somehow. I remember the whole experience with love too, water logged love.

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