Circus Act ?

The most painful and exotic “on the edge” experience I have ever done happened when we lived in Davis, California. I do not remember the exact date but we lived there from 1984 until 1991. The location was the Slide Hill Park swimming pool in north-east Davis, a place we spent many, many summertime hours with our little ones.

Being an inveterate coward, I have always shunned the high diving boards at pools. Once, I think during childhood swimming lessons I had to jump off from one and that experience, I believe, has scarred me and forever since made me leery of the high dive. Happily, our kids were little fish in the water and loved swimming and performing acts of insane daring from the sides of the pool and even the low diving board.

Of course, it was Cecilia who broke the barrier of the high dive taboo, though Daniel and Rebecca later made heavy inroads into that arena. I do not know how many times I watched the little one-piece suited Cece climb the ladder to that dizzying height and hurl herself happily off into the water. I shuddered each time. I also shuddered each time she asked me to go off after her. “Come on, Poppa, its fun!” she would say and I would lamely claim some old war injury or exhaustion or some such excuse that we both knew was not true.

On this day of days, however, Cece’s repeated entreaties somehow broke through the barrier of common sense. Perhaps it was corroboration from my loving spouse, or Dan and Becca looking at me like I was a big chicken. Anyway, I said OK and with trembling knees, climbed the ladder to the top. I could not believe how high I was ! Oh My God! At least the water would be soft. (HA!) I positioned myself on the edge of the board after gaily waving to the clustered vultures (oops…I mean loving, cheering family) down below. Gulping a huge amount of air, I gracefully dove off the edge, knife-like, sharply aimed at the water below. Then it happened…panic set in. “That is going to hurt my head,” I thought, “It would be better to go in feet first.” So, in the middle of my dive, suspended between heaven and earth, I began to unwind and curl around to a straight up-down entry format…or so I thought. Gravity won the race. I hit in the middle of my twist, right on my stomach. That was a killer moment. Stars, bells, whistles blinked, rang and shrieked. Death was present, I thought. But no, pain won out and I knew I was alive. Breath returned slowly to my lungs.

Slowly, oh so slowly, squirming to the edge of the pool, I got out, arms wobbling with the effort. Expecting to be met with loving yet concerned looks and entreaties from my family, I looked over to see all of them doubled up with hilarious laughter at my act. Of such things fame is born, I guess. It must have been quite a show! Over the years I have been reminded of this daredevil act more than once but never, never, NEVER, will I recreate it again. Let my own children and their children be the next pseudo-Olympians!


9-15-2010