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JAWS

As I was swimming laps at my town pool, with goggles on, I looked underwater and saw other swimmers' legs and arms mid-stroke, dangling, moving, submerged.  This underwater image of extremities in motion evokes a mild dread, an eerie foreboding, a sense that something terrible is going to happen.

I blame it all on the movie JAWS.  Every last fear, anxiety or minor apprehension about the water: ocean, lakes, you name it.  And as irrational as it is, the movie has even instilled a passing concern about swimming in chlorinated pools!

I grew up swimming in my backyard canal, the bay, the ocean.  Endless salt water surrounded my home, my life.  The hours of a summer day were tracked by the ebb and flow of the tide.

When I was 10, my dad, the fisherman, captain and boater, took me to see JAWS at a huge air-conditioned theatre in Massapequa, N.Y.  It was a hot summer night and I brought along a ziploc bag of semi-stale pretzels from home.

For the entire movie, I sat with my right hand covering my eyes, my fingers spread ever-so-slightly to allow for a very narrow view of the screen, with my left hand - also immobile - sweaty, gripping the bag of pretzels that were now broken salty crumbs.

I've since waterskied, body-surfed, tried windsurfing and treaded water in many bodies of water.  And I've also subjected myself to the JAWS sequels.

But I'll never stop being afraid.

Comments

joy said…
Show me the way to go home. Im tired and i want to go to bed. I had a few drinks about an hour ago and they went right to my head.

Dun nun. Dun nun. Dun nun dunnundunnununununununu!!

Dotty brought potato chips and probably those weight watchers dried fruit thingys.

Im just afraid of all things living and slimey, which are in the sea. Gross.

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