I’ll Catch You Dad!

I sat in the humid, sultry heat of the New Orleans summer, alone. Around me, young girls and boys and their parents were splashing in the huge pool of my friend. Usually at pool parties I had the company of one of my friends who was almost as terrified of water as I was, but this time, my friend had thrown caution to the winds, and jumped into the water. He kept beckoning to me, trying to induce me to join the fun, but I just shook my head and smiled in refusal. But just then my six year old son called out to me. “Hey Dad,” Larry called out. “This is so much fun! Come in with me.”

I went closer to the pool where Larry was splashing merrily and playing with his friends. “I can’t come in.” I said embarrassed. “I don’t know how to swim.”

“Don’t worry Dad,” Larry said, his deep blue eyes staring intently into mine.
“Just jump in. I’ll catch you!”

I turned away so Larry wouldn’t see the tears that had sprung to my eyes at his heartfelt declaration. Those words penetrated to the depths of my heart.
I never was able to escape the fear that I wasn’t being a good enough father for my son. My son’s words brought all my fears and insecurities to the surface. I wanted my son to be able to depend and rely on me; not for him to assume the role of my protector, touching as it was.

The very next day I went to Tulane University and hired Bob, one of the college students on the swim team, to teach me how to swim. I looked in dread at the huge Olympic sized pool. “Listen,” I told Bob. “I just want to tell you a little bit about why I’m doing this. You see, my father died when I was three and as a result my mother was very overprotective. You can say that I never had a real childhood, she never let me do anything and she made me believe that if I would step foot into the water, I would certainly drown…”

Bob interrupted my nervous monologue. “Doc, you’re not going to learn a thing from talking. Just get into the water!”

It took many weeks to overcome my fear and learn the rudiments of swimming. When I finally swam across the width of the Olympic size pool, I climbed out, triumphant with what I had accomplished. That’s when I suddenly heard the sound of resounding applause. The entire swimming team of Tulane University was clapping and cheering for my achievement. I hadn’t noticed that they had watched my struggle week by week to conquer my fear; now they were expressing sincere admiration.

I celebrated my achievement by building a pool in my backyard. I was very specific with the contractor I hired. The dimensions were unusual and specific- the length of my pool was precisely the size of the width of the Olympic size pool I had learned in.

The many hours I had spent in psychotherapy had made me very aware of why I was stifled and afraid of the world. It was those few words “Just get into the water” that made the biggest impact on me. I learned that action is the essential thing.