Years later my folks would spend vacations in FL. I would go fishing, snorkeling, jet-skiing, and sailing with my Dad. In summer 1981, I was in the Navy. Dad and I were in the water off Cocoa Beach or thereabouts trying to body surf. It was choppy, and my Dad called me over. He was a bit out of breath and struggling in the rough water, trying to get to shore. He wanted me to help push him along until he could make it in the rest of the way by himself. Dad was in his early 50s then. It was the first time I had ever seen him in any kind of trouble, and it made me think about a lot of things. My Dad had always been strong and very active - a "learn by doing" guy who might read about how to do something but would never take lessons. This led to some exciting, "Chevy Chase" moments that my Mom still wonders how we ever survived (actually it wasn't that bad). So although Dad never surfed, I believe he was responsible for my love of the water. I've done a lot of different aquatic sports and activities from water polo in high school to skin and SCUBA diving to windsurfing, sailing and kayaking. A year ago, at 57, I finally took up surfing . Thanks, Dad.
My folks are in their 80s and live 3 1/2 miles from us.
Man, that hit me preety deeply..the part about aging, how things change over time. I love both my parents, and am so grateful for how they raised me, and I tell them all the time. There was a time when my mom would take me surfing just to get me out of the house, which was a negative environment at times. It was always a form of escape for me, still is. Thanks Mom.