POST THREE: I HAD JUST LEARNED TO SWIM BUT NOT IN WATER
Swimming at Pier One
I had just learned to swim, but not in water … in my mind, in our living room, by watching Tarzan on TV for a year. It was a warm, early June morning in the city.
I was thirteen and this was the day I would go down to the harbor and swim in actual water. I pulled on my shorts, t-shirt, Jack Purcell sneakers, walked down Orleans Street, crossed the railroad tracks, crossed the big dirt parking lot and 20 feet out onto the right side of Pier One.
I looked up and to my left. There was a big, ocean freighter 30 feet away and rising 25 feet out of the water. Great thick ropes were tied to a series of huge iron tie down cleats that were bolted right thru the cement. I looked to my right and there was a high-water marker reading 18 feet. I looked down and there was a nice, sturdy ladder attached to the pier. The perfect place for a swim. No big deal.
The way I saw it was there were two essentials to swimming, kicking your legs and swinging your arms at the same time. I pushed off my sneakers, stepped right up to the edge and jumped off, and my mind went completely blank. Just like that.
The only thing I do remember about entering the water was suddenly realizing that I was going 18 feet, right to the bottom, and there was no way that I could ever make it back up. Fear struck big time.
I did this windmill thing under water with my arms, in such a way that I was simultaneously heading up and pushing myself back down at the same time.
But after, what seemed like an eternity I made it back up to the surface. I was breathing wildly and swinging my arms faster and faster.
I looked around and saw the ladder about 4 feet away. It took me another 30 windmill thingies to reach it. When I finally grabbed hold. The first thought that entered my mind was “I can swim.” The second thought was “I better learn how to swim.”
I did learn to swim later that Summer about 100 yards from there, at a place called the South Ferry. It was a series of broken down, abandoned piers and docks. All us kids from Jeffrey’s Point and the Housing Projects beyond Maverick Square swam there.
Now there is a moral to this story. During my time as a street photographer I adopted a personal mantra that goes like this: “The Universe hides the most amazing stuff right behind fear.” There was not a day where I found myself out on the street that some semblance of fear did not enter in.
More next time …