The Happiness Equation: Want Nothing + Do Anything = Have Everything

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The childhood trauma that made me quit swimming

Don’t be a wimp. Get down here! Get on the slide!”

Wet bathing suit clinging to my sides, I was sitting on top of the curving blue plastic slide, staring down at the bright baby-blue pool and the open arms of the gigantic burly man with a thick black mustache. He taught with my dad and we were at the annual end-of-year school party at the principal’s house. Teachers were mingling on the patio near the barbecue and everyone was celebrating the start of summer.

“I’ll catch you! Don’t be a wimp!”

I was eight years old and couldn’t swim but had been playing in the shallow end with my sister Nina all afternoon—watching kids climb to the top of the slide and squeal as they slid down feet first, hands first, face first. Sprinkler water sparkled at the top from a garden hose and slick-greased the slide in the scorching sun. It looked inviting.

Conquerable.

Easy.

I had finally decided to climb my way up and give it a shot. My six-year-old sister swam like a fish and my parents were doggie-paddle pros. I was the family anchor.

“I’ll catch you! Don’t be a wimp!”

Looking down at the bright baby-blue pool below, I stared into the eyes of the high school math teacher who worked with my dad. Then I took a deep breath and pushed off.

Wind blew into my face, my stomach lurched, and I watched with excitement and then sudden fear as the burly teacher’s waiting arms suddenly lifted up into the air as he laughed.

He wasn’t going to catch me.

I plunged into the deep end and my vision cut to bright blue horror-film footage. My chest was filling with water and I tried to breathe. Frantically flailing. Hot suffocating pain like I was being smothered by fiery blankets. My eyes lost focus and I was flailing and flailing and flailing until I finally felt big hands grab under my armpits and lift me out.

“See, you can swim!” he screamed. Barbecue smoke, beer bottles, distant laughing. My sister running for my parents. Coughing up water. It felt like glass in my chest.