Remembering Dad

As I said in my last blog, I am extending my celebration of my father over the next several weeks and months. Here's installment #1.

My fondest memory is Dad coming to our rescue in an upstate lake. How old was I? 9? 10? 11? I swam out with my sister, Kathy behind me and found I couldn't touch bottom. She grabbed on to me - I knew how to swim and she did not. But I could not move with her hanging on. The bathers on shore just looked and made no motion to come to our aid. But Dad saw what was happening, kicked off his shoes, and came out, clothes and all, pipe in his mouth, to save his girls. I will never never forget the expression on his face as long as I live. My savior! It gives me great hope for any other trouble I will face the rest of my days. Kathy remembers Dad drying out his money after the rescue. I remember that he changed into his bathing suit and wanted us to have a swim lesson. Kathy did. But I wouldn't go near the water for quite some time. Hmmmm...