Still Here, In Business

I miscalculated.

I miscalculated the depth of the water at the spot I stopped swimming.

Easing off from the deep end of Ken’s pool, I swam on one breadth toward the shallow end, having not yet learned to breathe in the water while swimming. I thought I had reached the safety of five feet, but hadn’t, so when I sank my feet to touch the bottom, my whole body sank as well. Oh, I should mention I still haven’t mastered treading water. I swallowed a little bit of H2O as I went under the first time.

I’d been in such predicaments before, saving myself from drowning by floating on my back. With Ken treading water nearby, holding a foam kickboard for me to grasp, it was unclear who was more concerned as the situation developed—would I be able to gain control of my equilibrium and float to safety, or would Ken have to go into emergency rescue mode?

A little bit of both, it turned out.

We called it a day after that, but not before Ken complimented me on my swimming form, such that it is. Sooner, rather than later, I hope and Ken assures me, I’ll master breathing and treading water. Until then, Ken is now much more aware of my limitations.


Back to School Business: Lots of articles these days about back to school. From my daily PR inbox here’s a not-so-startling newsflash: Most tweens, 87% according to a Unilever sponsored survey, say they are stressed about going back to school. Tweens (generally defined as children ages 8 to 12) are uptight about “issues ranging from new teachers and classes to forming friendships to keeping up with the latest fashion trends.”

Unilever’s solution is for these sweaty kids to use deodorant, preferably its brands, but let’s not go there for now. I’m more focused on what’s causing the anxiety, that squeamish feeling in the pit of their kishkes.

For me it was that part of the first day of school when everyone introduced themselves and stated what their parents did. We hardly ever had any new kids in our class, so it was superfluous to have to identify oneself to classmates who had already matriculated with you from first to fourth grade (fyi, I skipped kindergarten). What never changed was the angst I felt when I had to explain my parents’ occupations.

At first, I would say they made lingerie, until one year I had to explain lingerie meant half-slips and panties. Tee-hees from the rest of the students embarrassed me into demanding a different vocation from my parents. Instead, they told me to just say they were “in business.”

It must have been a magical solution because no one ever questioned what “in business” meant. They could have been part of a holdover of Murder, Inc. for all the kids knew, Murder, Inc. having been a thriving Jewish-Italian Brooklyn enterprise of the 1920s-1940s.

Whatever. “Business” continued to be my parents’ occupations on all official forms for the rest of their working lives.