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When I tell someone, "I can't swim," they often assume it to mean one of several things, including but not necessarily limited to:
"I'm not a strong swimmer,"
"I could never swim competitively."
"I don't swim fast, cleanly, artfully or well."
Oh, how I wish I could make any of the above claims, particularly since I am the offspring of a super swimmer. My pop worked as a lifeguard at the local YMCA as well as serving as a diver for the Mahoning County Sheriff's Office many moons ago! Swimming was second nature to him. #MyDadWasAquaman
Sigh.
Not to mention the fact that I am also the mother of a web-footed, gill-bearing swimmer who helped break team-event record(s) in both high school and college. Swimming is second nature to him. #MySonIsAquaman
Hmpf.
So, you can imagine that my inability to float successfully for even 4.2 seconds is not something of which I'm particularly proud. Nor is it something I typically discuss.
But truthfully and shamefully, I can't swim. At all. Seriously. In fact, I had a little near-drowning incident in my youth and another in my senior year of high school that solidified my status as an official aquaphobe.
And I, for one, don't appreciation the disparagement toward my brethren from you aqua-lunged wonders. Look people, it's not that we don't want to. It's not that we haven't tried. It's not that we're not dedicated or passionate enough.
It's that we literally physically are not equipped for it.
Ahh. There. It's out in the open now. I feel so liberated. On behalf of my brothers and sisters who, like me, are begrudging cardholders of the "I can't swim" club, allow me to assure you, we're not faking.
I understand how those of you who can float, tread water or swim the English Channel without so much as blinking think we nonswimmers are just lazy slackers who aren't giving it the old college try. But frankly, I feel strongly that college is the culprit.
As in, whenever my super-star swimmer son Kyle competes in a meet, I find myself thinking, maybe it's not too late for me? They make it look so darned easy that I almost ALWAYS leave thinking, "This summer, I'm gonna do it."
And invariably, every summer when Kyle comes home and coaches a local swim team, I attend his meets and see little children in the 8-years-old-and-under category who could handily kick my patootie lapping me in that pool. Or any pool. Or lake. Or ocean. Or, like, bathtub.
Rotten little tadpoles.
I learned the hard way that swimming is not inherited from one generation to another. In fact, it clearly skipped one in the Marinucci casa, since my two siblings and I couldn't make it from one end of the pool to another even if someone paid us a gazillion dollars.
Remember how in the movie "Titanic," Jack told Rose that the diamond in her engagement ring was big enough to take her straight to the bottom of the Atlantic? Think of us as three diamonds, yo.
And as Kyle finishes up his collegiate swimming career with a championship meet this weekend, all I can do is hold my breath.
Hey, just because I can't swim doesn't mean I can't scream my head off supporting my own personal Flipper. I am his biggest fan.
So, one last time, let's hear it for Kyle Kimerer, formerly of Boardman Tennis and Swim Club, and the Boardman High School and Canisius College swim teams.
Swim fast, sweetie … faster than lightning!
Kimerer is a proud swim mom who will stay outside the pool to cheer. Meet her in the shallow end at www.patricia kimerer.com.