Learning to Swim in Nature 1.6.26

When mom left dad for good during the spring of 1971, we literally fled to Louisa County, Virginia, where I had been born ten years earlier. The year 1971 was a difficult year for me.  And it was a difficult year for our country. The Vietnam War was escalating with U.S. troops invading Cambodia, sparking protests. During one of these protests, National Guard troops kill four students at Kent State University. Race relations were strained, to say the least, with two Black students being killed by police at Jackson State University. And the Attica Prison riot ended in bloodshed. 

But not all was bad that year.  The voting age got reduced to 18, NASA’s Apollo 15 mission was successful with the first use of the lunar rover, and I learned how to swim.  When mom left Mechanicville, Virginia for Louisa with her four young children in tow, I had not yet learned to swim.  The only time I can remember being near any large body of water up until that point was taking a trip two hours away to Virginia Beach to see the ocean for my sixth birthday.  It was a very big deal.  Even though I could not swim, I did get into the water.  Evidently, in those days, lots of people who could not swim would wade into the water.  So, my doing so was not that unusual.  I think Dad may have taken this special trip because I had been in the hospital for some kind of kidney issue.  And maybe this was his way of celebrating my release from the hospital. Dad would occasionally surprise us sometimes with generous gestures like this. 

Despite these occasional gestures, Dad was hell to live with.  Because of his drinking, his behavior was becoming even more erratic and violent.  He would beat mom and he would continue to beat us, sometimes for the smallest infractions. So, mom was very afraid of him.  She had tried to leave him in the past, but always caved in.

One day, in early spring, I was called into the principal’s office.  I remember this day well because it was a very sunny day and I was having a good day at school. I was totally flabbergasted when I was called to the principal’s office.  What had I done this time?  When I got there, Mom was standing there with my brothers and sister, and she said we are leaving.  That was all she said.  And I remember her having this stern look on her face. Later, I would realize that it was the face of determination.  She marched us to the front of the school and there, in the bus loading circle, waiting in her 1969 mustang, was my uncle Billy’s wife.  I was still confused.  “Where are we going?”, I asked. Mom just said, “We are leaving your dad for good.” So, we all loaded into the car and headed for Louisa.  I would never see Pearson’s Corner Elementary School again.  And even though it was March, I would not step foot into another school until September. 

I do not know what finally caused mom to be brave enough to leave Dad, but she did.  However, she had done this with no real planning.  When we arrived at my grandmother’s house, mom was told that she could live in the shack that was on the property.  So, for several months we lived with my aunt and her two children in a two room shack with no running water.  That summer, after the paperwork had been completed for her to receive welfare checks, mom was finally able to upgrade to a four-room house across the dirt road that did have one faucet in the kitchen that produced cold running water. Although the house was not much to look at, the price was right.  I think her mortgage payment was $50 per month. She would eventually pay that mortgage off and own that house.

So, I had an interesting relationship with water during my childhood. Baths in the winter were comprised of using a small porcelain or metal bowl that you would pour hot water into that had been heated on the kitchen stove.  We would then use various techniques to clean various parts of your body. One can use your imagination on how we cleaned our private parts. Because bathing this way was difficult and inconvenient, we did not bath every day.  Because of this, I am sure I had plenty of body odor following me around when I roamed the halls of middle school and high school – just another thing to be self-conscious about as a teenager.  

The summers were infinitely better.  We would usually set out a large metal tub, fill it with water and let the sunshine warm it during the day.  In the evenings we would then sit in the tub and take a good old-fashioned bath.  We would step out of the tub and rinse off with the water hose that was connected to the side of the house. You always wanted to be the first to use the water.

When we discovered a pond located in the woods about a half of a mile behind our house, our bathing habits changed further.  When the weather was warm enough, we would go to the pond with a bar of soap and use the pond as a very large bathtub.  Only I and my younger brothers would use this technique.  My younger sister stuck to the old ways. 

I never found out who owned the pond, but for a week each summer, a troop of boy scouts would show up and camp near the pond to fish and swim.  During the rest of the year, that pond was ours.  And that is where I learned to swim, along with my cousin Buckwheat and my three siblings, James, Paula and Keith.  And we did this with absolutely no parental supervision. I don’t think our mom ever visited the pond. Like I said – that pond was ours.  It became our sanctuary.

So, how do five kids ranging from the ages of 7 to 11 learn how to swim in a three-acre pond with no parental supervision? You will be amazed at how necessity or even a strong desire can breed invention. Anchored in the middle of the pond was a floating dock made from wood and barrels.  Like any kid, I wanted to get to that dock. It was like a forbidden island that none of us could reach, because none of us could swim.  I am sure we finally got there using a floating log of some sort.  But that was a long-term solution.  So, we made floating devices using leather belts and one-gallon plastic milk jugs.  We would loop a leather belt through the handle of two milk jugs and then secure the belt around our mid-section. Voila – a perfect floating device.

The first time we did this, we did not entirely trust the set-up.  What if the top came off the milk jug? What if the belt buckle came unlatched?  Fortunately, milk jugs at the time had screw tops – not much risk of the top coming off.  And we decided to use rope and tie a knot instead of trusting a belt.  And it worked! Ingenious!  Kids are amazing. Where there is a will, there is a way.

The first time we dog paddled to the floating dock was glorious.  When we got there, we felt like we had reached paradise island.  It was probably not the smartest thing we did, but we would also jump from the floating dock with our milk jugs tied to us.  It was pure joy.  Our pond sanctuary just became even more so – now that we could dog paddle out to the dock.   Eventually, we would dog paddle out to the dock using only one milk jug.  And finally, we got up enough confidence to dog paddle out to the dock with nothing strapped to our backs. And that is how I learned to swim in nature.

Milestones were achieved when each of us could dog paddle across the entire pond, swim across the entire pond using only breast strokes, and finally swim across the entire pond using freestyle. With that said, I never mastered swimming, even though I now live on the shore of a large lake.  Although I can hold my own for short distances and can tread water forever, I never became what I would call an accomplished swimmer. All three of our sons are excellent swimmers, winning swimming competitions as adolescents. You can imagine how proud I was of our three boys becoming excellent swimmers – something I never became.  That is one reason I never attempted a triathlon, even though I could cycle well and was an excellent runner.  

Later as a teenager, I would often go to that pond alone and swim out to the dock or just lay in the straw grass nearby and stare up at the sky.  As teenagers, we struggle to find ourselves.  And during some of my toughest periods growing up, I would visit that pond – even in the middle of the winter.  And I believe that is one reason why I love being outside so much.  And why I love to just sit in nature – or just go for walks in the woods.  That pond in the middle of nowhere in the center of Louisa County became my Walden Pond. Because I lived in a cramped house where I shared a tiny bedroom with two brothers, I needed a place in nature where I could self-reflect and enjoy some solitude.

I never have lost the love of solitude in nature.  Some of my most favorite memories of my adventures and vacations around the world revolve around solitude in nature – hiking miles by myself on a ridge in Bath County, Virginia; hiking alone deep into Zion National Park in Utah, hiking Deer Mountain Trail alone near Ketchikan, Alaska; running alone in the hills of Tuscany Italy, cycling alone in the Baque region of Spain, and running alone in Alsace France, to name a few.  

So, when the opportunity arose to buy 250 acres of beautiful rolling hills and woods in western Louisa County, I jumped at the chance.  Poor Creek Farm has become my new sanctuary. Our Farm even has a creek and a pond. Elizabeth and I are so fortunate to have our own Walden Pond to share with anyone and everyone who is willing to make the trip. And it brings me great joy to see others enjoy the outdoors as much as we do. So, come be in nature with us!

In 2013, Elizabeth and I sailed with two other couples on a 42-foot boat in the BVIs.  While visiting the Bitter End Yacht Club, I saw a floating dock and had to write this poem.

Floating Dock – 2013

I swim to the floating dock 
With no plastic milk jugs
For I am no longer eleven
Learning to swim in a small pond

Here in the British Virgin Islands
My feet touch pink sand instead of mud  
Instead of murky water, a shack and trees 
I see clear water, villas, and yachts 

I dive off the dock and taste the salty water
Surfacing to see our chartered sailboat 
And to memories of a small pond with a floating dock 
Where I learned to swim with milk jugs