Man Overboard (Adventure Revisited)

In the quest for the daily blog entry, and in order to avoid mentioning poop again (which seemed to have troubled so very many of you), I am using past adventures. Here's one from my pre-teen years. Enjoy - and know that I've already been through therapy for this stuff. "That which does not kill me makes me stronger. That which does not kill me makes me stronger. That which does not ..."

When I was nine years old, my Miami family started sailing together. My Miami family includes my father Manny, my step-mother Billie, my step-sister Robynn and my step-brother Joe. I am considering creating an organizational chart for my family, so look for that in the weeks to come.

I have many, many sailing stories to share. Most include Robynn retching frequently (she becomes violently ill when she even thinks about water). But we took one or two extended trips a year anyway, because, well, two out of three healthy children is pretty good, right?

During each trip, in order to be prepared for anything, my father would run "man overboard drills."

The craziest thing about these drills - and it scares me more to think of it now than it scared me to do it then - was that it wasn't really a drill at all. There were no practice runs with a bouy. Safety measures and back-up plans were never discussed, nor even considered. We did not wear life preservers. It wasn't a "man overboard drill." It was a "child overboard emergency."

My father chose the overboard-er by process of elimination. He had to stay on the boat to steer. Billie couldn't go in because her help was needed in rescuing the child from the water. Joe stayed aboard because he was so little, being four years younger than us girls. Robynn and I took turns being the "man overboard" for those first few summers.

One of us would jump over the side and into the water. Someone remaining on the boat was instructed to do nothing more than keep their eyes on the person in the water. The small rubber dinghy was untied and set free, and the "man overboard" would swim to it and climb inside. My father would navigate back and Billie would retrieve the dinghy and bring the soaking wet, exhausted child on board.

I vividly remember treading water, watching the boat move away, trying desperately not to think of Jaws (which had come out only a few years before) and hoping that my siblings were doing a good job of keeping an eye on me.

A few years later, when he was nine years old, it was Joe's turn. I am happy to report he was rescued intact, but it was too dangerous to do it again. Not dangerous to Joe, but to those of us left onboard with his mother. Billie freaked out as soon as Joe's toes hit the waves. She tried to do everything at once - keep her eyes on Joe, untie the dinghy and steer the ship. At the same time, she screamed at US to keep our eyes on Joe, untie the dinghy and steer the ship - and to do it "Faster! Faster!" We couldn't figure out why she was so insane. After all, she never lost it when Robynn or I went over. And if she was so concerned for his safety, she could have not let him jump into the water in the first place. Robynn, my father and I survived with only minor scrapes and bruises but it wasn't worth the risk to attempt another "Joe everboard."

Billie eventually overboarded too, as we kids grew older. As the years passed, we really did have this thing down.

Then it was my father's turn. Billie was nervous but my brother and sister and I were thrilled. My father jumped off the boat - and landed smack on the back of a shark. Well, that's what he claimed, anyway. No one ever believes this story (even if they don't know that my father was honesty-challenged), and I'm not sure if I believe it either. But consider this: He swam to the dinghy faster than I'd ever seen him move in his life, on land or at sea. He barely even got wet. When we pulled the sailboat alongside him, he was visibly shaken. Without a doubt, something scared him silly. Maybe it was swimming in the open ocean, watching his family sail away, but I had been doing that for years, and I was just a kid. Or maybe he really did jump on a shark. I don't know.

But I do know this: we never had another "man overboard drill" again.