My mother, Marylyn Sims, never learned to swim.  For some reason she had a fear of deep water, although none of us know where it came from.  Sadly, she passed that fear down to me somewhere in my childhood.  Until I was about nine years old,  I buckled myself into ski belts and life jackets every time I went swimming. (The inflatable arm swimmies hadn’t been invented yet.)  I wasn’t afraid of the pool, or of water in general; I just wouldn’t swim.  I played in the creek beside my home almost every day of my life, but the water was shallow.  When my brother or a friend would hassle me about not being able to swim, I just responded with, “So what?  Mom can’t swim either.”  I had made up my mind that swimming wasn’t for me.  And that’s the way it was until the Lady of the Lake changed everything.

To be fair, my Mom didn’t want me to share her fear of deep water.  She realized how important it was for a young boy to learn how to swim, so I took swimming lessons at the Ashland city pool every summer for at least three years– maybe four.  I learned the technique well, and could do it in shallow water, but swimming was out of the question when  the water was over my head.

I did, however, feel that I gained a lot from those multiple years of swimming lessons.  They really helped my breathing technique when I bobbed for apples at Halloween, and I was a really good dog-paddler while wearing a life jacket.  Whoopee.

One of my closest childhood friends in those days was Lee Hardegree. We remain friends today.  Lee’s family owned a lake house on Lake Martin, about an hour from Ashland.  I joined Lee often during the summer months at their cabin on the lake.  It was a blast.  We went on boat rides, and played in the shallow water near the dock.  I was no doubt a hinderance to Lee, since he was part fish and was allowed to swim in the deep water.  I could only join him while wrapped up in floating gear.  Still, spending time in the summer with the Hardegree’s at the lake is one of my fondest childhood memories.

During one of my visits to Lake Martin, Lee and I played for hours in the shallow water with a new toy he had ordered from Texaco.  It was a Texaco oil tanker with a battery operated propeller– advertised on TV.  Incredible!   The problem was that the boat was fast enough to get away from us and move out into deep water.  Lee was constantly having to swim after it, leaving me in the shallows as a spectator.  It would have been more fun if we could both have enjoyed the Texaco tanker in deeper water– but it was out of the question for me.

Lee’s Mom, Ann Hardegree, called us in for lunch and for our “rest” time.  There was an unwritten rule in those days that you had to wait an hour after eating before you went swimming.  I’m not sure if there is science behind it, but Mrs. Hardegree was a firm believer in giving food digestion its proper space.  When the hour was up we begged to go back to the water and play.  Mrs. Hardegree dutifully slathered on the Coppertone suntan lotion (later called “sunscreen”) that I required per my mom.  I was a white boy in more ways than one, burning easily in the summer sun.  Lee, on the other hand, was conditioned for the sun and got to avoid the time-consuming ritual of lotion slathering.

Lee grabbed his Texaco boat while I lugged my multiple floating devices behind me as we headed to the water.  Just before I began belting them on my stark white frame, Mrs. Hardegree hurried down to the dock and got our attention.

“Wait just a minute boys.  Both of you come with me out onto the boat dock.  I want to show you something.”  We dutifully obeyed, walking together to the end of the long dock that extended out into the lake water.  I set my life jacket down on the dock as Lee’s mom squatted down and looked at me squarely in the face.

“Mark, you think you don’t know how to swim, but I think you do.”  With that she gave me a quick push, toppling me into the deep water!  Lee jumped in along side me.  It was sheer terror as I plunged all the way under the water. “Swim Mark Swim!  Mrs. Hardegree cajoled me over and over with a big smile on her face. Then without the aid of a life jacket– I came up swimming.

Eureka!  I could swim!  It was perhaps the most satisfying accomplishment  in my life since becoming potty trained.  From that day I joined the ranks of the “fish,”  just like Lee.  And my visits to the Lake were destined to be even more fun than ever.  Hey, I even got six hours of credit for advanced swimming in college!  OK, I was never a pro, but I could swim, and swim well– thanks to the courageous and kind Lady of the Lake–  Ann Hardegree.  

I enjoyed talking with Mrs. Hardegree a couple of weeks ago about it.  She informed me that my Mom and Dad had ok’d the deal before it ever happened.   And Lee let me know that I’m not the only one that ever got a “push” from the Lady of the Lake.  Several people owe their swimming awards to Ann Hardegree.  She’s in her nineties now, and still sharp and classy.  An incredible lady she is, and an important person in the wonderful network of family friends who helped shape my life.

Thank you, sweet “Lady of the Lake.”

“Wounds from a friend can be trusted, but an enemy multiplies kisses.”  Proverbs 27:6