Taking Nothing For Granted

There are a lot of things in life we take for granted. That includes life itself.
That became startlingly apparent to me on a sunny Monday in Lake Tahoe.
We were at that California mountain resort for my niece’s wedding. Two days after her ceremony on a calm, breezy morning, I decided to go for a swim in the lake. It was the same swim I had done the Thursday before with my daughter’s boyfriend, so I didn’t think much of it.
I walked into the calm Tahoe waters with my triathlon shorts on. There is a 75-yard shelf of shallow water before you reach the darker depths. A nice transition to get used to the lake. When I reached waist-level water, I dove in and started my methodical swim. The water was colder than a few days before. That was a warning sign, one I did not heed.
I headed toward a buoy 100 or more yards out. That and back is 200 yards, maybe a little more. Not a long swim for me.
I reached the buoy effortlessly enough, touched it and headed back. However, trouble struck quickly.
Ten yards into my return voyage, both quadriceps cramped, probably from the cold water. My legs became weights instead of limbs to help power my swim. I looked down. The lake bottom was 30 feet below me. I glanced around for a safe haven. There was none. No nearby boats. No dock. No side of the pool. No lifeguard. Nothing.
A thought passed quickly through my mind. I could drown out here and no one would know. I never felt so alone in all my life.
I realized I needed to take action. I harkened back to a Red Cross first aid class from 20 years ago. They had talked about water safety. The instructor had told us if we ever got into trouble in deep water to seek help immediately. You have to give people time to get to you. If you wait until you’re going under, it’s too late. That instructor also said when you call for assistance to yell and wave your arm. Make sure people hear and see you.
So, I waved my arm above my head and shouted “Help!” twice. People on the far-away shore stood up and looked out. Good, I thought, they’ve spotted me.
I began a slow, easy breaststroke away from the buoy, using almost exclusively my arms. I saw someone run into the water. I noticed someone else racing toward a rowboat. OK, I thought, people are headed my way.
I told myself to concentrate. Walls went up inside my head. Thoughts of drowning were blocked. Thoughts of my family sitting back at the cabin were kept out. Spasms of panic were quelled. My life did not flash before my eyes.
Focus on what you need to do, I told myself. You must continue to swim. My arms kept moving in a fluid motion as my legs provided minimal assistance. I felt my calves tighten a bit. I ignored it. Focus, I repeated.
I looked ahead. One younger man was wading out onto the shelf. Another was quickly paddling a rowboat. He was having trouble traveling in a straight line, but his zigzag pattern was at least directed toward me.
Swim, I told myself. Swim toward the people who are trying to help you.
My legs began to loosen a little, but I hardly noticed. I had dug deep into my past where in college cross country races you kept running even when you were dog tired.
I looked around again. The boat wasn’t much closer. But the other man was standing in chest deep water, not that far away. He was beckoning to me with his arms and saying. “You only have to get this far, buddy. You only have to get this far.”
I was almost there. The cramps subsided. I swam the final strokes to the shelf. I was never so happy to feel my feet touch sand. The boat turned back toward the dock. The man who beckoned walked with me to the shore.
It almost seemed ridiculous. I didn’t need anybody to pull me to my feet. I didn’t need oxygen. I wasn’t even that tired. How could I have been fighting for my life a mere two minutes ago?
On the beach, I saw the man in the rowboat walk back toward his cabin. I waved at him in appreciation. I didn’t get to thank him properly. I have no idea who he was or if that was even his rowboat.
The other man let me sit in his hot tub for a brief spell just to be sure I was OK. I didn’t really need it. I thanked him again and walked home. All I know is his name is Bill and even though he isn’t a good swimmer he ventured into the cold waters of Lake Tahoe to see what he could do when he saw someone in distress.
A lot of thoughts have passed since that brief but intense episode. Among them, no more swimming alone in open water and swims in lakes and oceans will be done near the shore. No more out and back courses.
My sister-in-law says her near-drowning in Hawaii more than 30 years ago was a life-changing event. It’s too early to tell if my experience will have the same lasting effect. I do feel an inner calm I didn’t have before. I guess we’ll have to wait for the next traffic jam caused by Caltrans road work to see if that’s a permanent change.
I thought about all that when I went running the following morning on the beach of Lake Tahoe. I thought about the soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan who skirt death on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis. What must that be like?
At the end of the run, I looked into the sun. I felt its warm rays hit my face. I realized I had been given access again to the next 10,000 days. Days to write. Days to joke with co-workers. Days to spend with my wife in our cozy empty nest. Days to watch my two adult daughters grow and prosper. Days to play hide-and-seek with my grandson.
Days I might have lost.

Another Generation of Wounded Soldiers

The headline in the July/August edition of the AARP magazine says it all.
“Who’ll Care For Our Wounded Vets?”
An excellent question. I have an answer.
How about the Baby Boom generation?
There are now more than 30,000 injured soldiers who have come home from the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. That doesn’t even count the estimated 300,000 troops who will suffer from mental health issues the next few years.
The 30,000 are young men and women who have lost limbs, suffered head injuries and sustained other permanent injuries. There are a number of reasons for this high casualty rate.
The insurgents in Iraq and Afghanistan have become experts at planting improvised explosive devices. These are roadside bombs with enough force to knock lumbering tanks onto their sides. In addition, U.S. soldiers are equipped with body armor, high-tech helmets and other equipment that allows them to survive attacks that would have killed men and women in other conflicts. That’s the positive side. The negative side is many of these young troops are returning home with injuries that make it difficult for them to lead a normal life.
The AARP article states that many of the most seriously injured soldiers are being cared for by their parents. In some cases, this has become nearly a full-time job.
As a society, we must take care of all our soldiers who are returning from the battlefront. Whether you were for or against the invasion of Iraq, it’s not right to send young people into a war zone and then not help them when they come back.
This is where the Baby Boom generation can lend a mighty helping hand. Those of us in our late 40s, 50s and early 60s can honor the service of the younger generations now fighting in an unpopular war. We can do so by volunteering in groups that aid these veterans, donating money and other items to worthy causes and even directly helping a family with a wounded vet.
I am in the process of forming a non-profit organization, Boomer Action (boomeraction.org). The overall goal is to encourage Baby Boomers to volunteer and mentor. Our first project will be to convince 30,000 Baby Boomers to sponsor each of the 30,000 injured soldiers from Iraq and Afghanistan.
This would not only provide a tremendous benefit for society, it would give Baby Boomers a chance to redeem themselves after the shoddy way we treated Vietnam War veterans when they returned home. A double bonus.
If we can find the time and inspiration to take on such a task, when someone in the future asks the question, “Who will take care of our wounded vets?” We can say, “We will.”

Back To School

The nation’s community college system is encouraging Baby Boomers to go back to school.
The Association of Community Colleges is launching a 3-year demonstration program at 10 community colleges across the country to attract students over the age of 50.
The “Plus 50 Initiative” is being funded by a $3.2 million grant from The Atlantic Philanthropies.
The organizers say the project is recognizing one of the largest generational shifts in our nation’s history as Baby Boomers approach retirement and want to remain active.
In a story on prnewswire.com, AACC President George R. Boggs is quoted as saying, “The baby boomer generation wants to stay active in retirement and holds a wealth of knowledge and experience that society cannot afford to see leave the talent pool.”
Chaffey Community College in Los Angeles, is starting a new program for Baby Boom volunteers to mentor and tutor under-prepared students.
Clover Park Technical College in Washington, will offer an environmental science program along with a volunteer on-site project for Baby Boomers.
Joliet Junior College in Illinois will start up a work-force skills program for over-50 students who are seeking new careers in health care and education.
This is a great opportunity not only for Baby Boomers but for the community college system as well. It’s a chance for the Baby Boom generation to remain active and expand their horizons. It’s the type of activity Baby Boomers should leap toward. We are not approaching retirement like previous generations and this type of program allows us to pursue goals as we slowly step out of the Monday-Friday working world.
In return, the community college system receives the insight and experience of an aging generation. We should gladly provide these institutions with the help they are requesting and take advantage of the program they are offering.
Seems like a wise choice all the way around.