Before my father fell in love with California, he loved the Chesapeake Bay. We lived near it when I was a preschooler, and he sailed on it in the small boat we called The Floating Bear. (That's him and the Bear above.)
Then we moved to Ohio, and The Floating Bear mostly sat in our driveway. At some point, the Bear was sold in a garage sale.
While my dad didn't excessively pine for the long-gone boat, enough sailing stories were told over the years that I can't think of the Chesapeake without also thinking of him.
So last Sunday when I swam 4.4 miles underneath the Chesapeake Bay bridge at Annapolis, I thought a lot about my dad. And in the days since, I've thought about the role my dad played in what has become a 30-year swimming career.
He funded much of it -- no small token -- but his biggest investment was his time. Countless weekends driving a 1985 Toyota minivan to swim meets around Texas, Washington and California. When my siblings and I acted up in the back, he took disciplinary detours to places like the Grand Coulee Dam, or some random fish hatchery. Cooler, the Vanster once was driven through a tree:
As the driver wished, the van's cassette deck played only motivational tapes. Zig Ziglar had a bit about Olympic swimmer Mary T. Meagher. I don't remember what it was about, but I do remember my dad asking me to turn off my Walkman and listen.
Dad took me to predawn practices and picked me up in the evenings past dinnertime. When I was in junior high, we lifted weights together before school. And when I turned 16, he started taking the city bus to work so I could have a car to drive to and from practice. Maybe he was tired of all the drop-offs and pick-ups, but I bet he was just trying to be nice.
My father was genuinely interested in my swimming, but was not overbearing. He never second-guessed my coaches, and never berated slow performances. He was truly thrilled when I swam well.
When my last college meet came around, I was ready to be done, but I remember my mother mentioning that Dad was not. This week, 16 years later, he tracked the results of the Chesapeake swim online, searched for news stories, and knew my place and time before I did. (A couple of hours after these two shots were taken ... )
My sister said Dad was relieved when the race was over. He didn't know there had been scores of rescue boats and two helicopters hovering over the course, in case anyone needed to be plucked out of the bay. "He was pretty freaked out," my sister said.
Now that I'm a parent, I can understand that. So on this Father's Day, I want to thank my dad for always being on my team. And the next time I do something like the bay swim, I promise to tell him about the helicopters in advance.
