October 13: Floating Babies

Have you ever seen a small child floating face down in a body of water? It's terrifying.

When I was younger, my family would take weekend trips to the California/Arizona border where we would camp on the shore of the Colorado River. We didn't camp in a motor home or stay in a hotel. We did it the old fashioned way - in a tent. We went to the bathroom in the woods while flies clung to our bums and we took showers in the fast-moving current of the river. Our site consisted of nothing more than a six-man tent, a collapsible picnic table, our inflatable boat, and a canopy with a few folding chairs beneath it.

We would always arrive at our site late Friday night and set everything up with the help of our trusty Coleman lantern. Before retiring to our extremely hot and uncomfortable tent, we would sit around drinking cold water and take in the sounds of nature.

Saturday always started with the high pitch scream of my dad unzipping the tent at six in the morning before breaking the dawn's silence with the inflating of our boat. We would usually be the first people on the water where we could take advantage of its smooth surface and have the most ideal conditions for water skiing. Mom would be back at camp preparing breakfast for our return, we would eat, put some sunscreen on, and hit the water again until dinner time. We always had steaks and salad as we watched the sun set over the California banks across the river.

Sundays started the same as Saturdays. Dad gets up first and unzips the tent and I follow him to the boat to take advantage of smooth water. Breakfast, sunscreen, skiing. Around noon, we would come back and have a little lunch before beginning to break camp apart. When, I say "we," I mean my mom and dad. Mom would sweep out the tent and Dad would do everything else. Lindsay and I would sit in the chairs under the canopy and splash in the water until it, too, had to be disassembled. It was during one of these Sundays that my sister tried to teach herself how to swim.

The memories are a bit fuzzy, but I remember watching her waddle through the shallow waters as I sat in one of the folding chairs. The next thing I knew, she was lying face down with her arms spread out. I leaped from my chair, ran to the nearest phone booth, stripped off my suit, and flew to her rescue. I grabbed the back of her one-piece and pulled her to safety. The funny thing is that I don't remember her crying. She spit some water out of her mouth and nose and went right back to playing. Mom and Dad never found out. Until tonight.

I will always remember our family camping trips. I remember the cold nights in the mountains and the muggy nights at the river. I remember water skiing and hiking. I remember the little sounds of the tent and the way the handle of our 25 horsepower outboard motor felt in my hand. I don't remember the feeling of crossing a wake on a single ski, but I will never forget how scared I was when I looked down and saw my sister floating there. If you've never seen a child floating face down in water, you have got to experience it. It really is something else.