Well, this past Saturday was interesting! One of my sons is up from Pittsburgh to attend the graduation party of his first cousin. The Friday night prior, my son asks my wife if she’d like to come take a walk on the beach to keep an eye on him while he swims at Presque Isle. He’s been training for a triathlon competition and needed to do a swim in something other than a health club pool. Well, as he’s asking my wife, I’m behind her waving my arms as I want to go too. It turns out that she ended up being a little tired and I was the “go to” guy with my son. Now, I like to think of myself as an athlete, but swimming is definitely out of my league. I figure I can take a cell phone along, keep an eye out and it’ll be no problem.
We get up around 6:15am and head north to Presque Isle. We make a quick stop at the drive-through of McDonalds for some coffee, because anyone that knows me knows that I’m not good for much before my morning brew. We get to the parking area on the beach and my son suits up in his wet suit since the lake water is still quite cold. My son forgot his contact lenses and hands me his glasses to hold while he swims. We saunter onto the sand and he heads for the water and I head for the lifeguard chair. The weather is absolutely beautiful. Sun is up and there is a cool lake breeze. Birds are everywhere engaged in all sorts of chatter this June morning. I saw cardinals, yellow finches and I think some kind of tanager with a bright orange body and brown wings. The beach is empty except for a park employee who is using a piece of equipment that cleans and smoothes the sand. So, everything is good!
Off he goes into the lake. He’s moving with the tide and as I sip my coffee, I watch him very gradually get smaller and smaller as he swims parallel to the beach inside the breakers. As he gets smaller, all you can see are his arm motions. Then a time comes when you can’t make out his arms from the motion of the waves.
And that’s when it hits me, WHAT THE HELL, I CAN’T SEE HIM ANYMORE!! I thought he would swim out and when he got to a point that he had trouble seeing me, he would just head back in my direction. So, I begin the process of what George Herbert Mead refers to as minded deliberations trying to determine what my next course of action should be. Five minutes go by and then it is 10 and I’m fighting off what starts out as annoying anxiety. But by about 20 minutes, the anxiety is beginning to mount. I begin racking my brain wondering if I had misunderstood my instructions. I silently pray asking God to protect my son. At 25 minutes, I’m starting to have those crazy thoughts everyone gets when they imagine seeing the car they are driving along side the road, crashed with lots of mangled bodies hanging out. You see yourself, your spouse and your children all laying their dead. The function of the crazy thought is that it encourages cautiousness and you slow down to a more reasonable speed. I’m seeing Tom with some gash on his head kind of like the movie “Deliverance” with his arm twisted up around his back drowned in some crazy position. At 30 minutes, I realize that maybe I should get out of the lifeguard chair and speed walk in the direction he swam, hoping he was on his way back and we would connect that way.
As I’m walking, the broader implications of the situation are beginning to dawn on me. I’m going to have to do something more if I don’t come across him soon. I put that thought out of my head and climb up into the lifeguard chairs that are positioned equidistant intervals along the beach. I get up as high as I can, but I still can’t see him. I continue. As I’m problem solving this situation, I wonder if maybe Tom got out of the water and went to the path to get back to the car. He’s planning on a 20 mile bike ride following his swim. “That’s it!” I thought. So, I move off the beach and onto the path that goes back to where the parking area is. When I get to the car, his bike is still there and no son. My heart sank. I’m fighting off thoughts of planning his funeral as the crazy thoughts intensify.
I know now I have to call his mother, my wife. It takes me back to when I was watching the boys and my wife had gone out to shop or exercise and I had “daddy duty.” In one instance, the boys are rough housing and one falls into the fireplace mantle. Blood starts squirting and I did what any rational, sane father. I panicked and called my wife. I thought I was done having to put the proverbial tail between my legs when the kids got hurt and I was in charge. In this case the child is almost 25 years old. I can hear my wife now. I’m dead meat!
Well, I played with the cell phone for a minute or so and then looked at my watch. It had been 40 minutes since I last saw my son. I called. It was still early. There’s no answer when I call. The answering machine begins and when I hear the beep, I leave this message. “Cindy. It’s me. Can you pick up the phone? I really need you to pick up the phone.” I hang up, pause and dial again. This time she picks up immediately.
“Cindy, I can’t find Tommy.”
She responds, “What? What do you mean you can’t find Tommy? You’re supposed to be walking right along side him as he swims!”
“I didn’t know that. I sat on the lifeguard chair and watched him swim from there. I figured he’d keep track of me and turn around.”
She interrupts, “Buzz, last night Tommy explained what he needed. Why do you think he asked me if I’d like to take a walk along the beach?”
Now I’m thinking, I would interpret that walk along the beach thing very differently. My idea of a walk along the beach is to walk out onto the beach and sit. You sit on a blanket, you sit at a picnic table and in this instance you sit on the tall lifeguard chair.
Cindy continues, “You’ve got to call the Coast Guard right now! What beach are you on?”
I respond, “Beach, beach, I’m on the beach.”
Cindy fires back in that “momma bear” tone, “Are you telling me you don’t even know what beach you’re on?”
I realize the beaches are numbered and she is trying to get me to get the right information for the Coast Guard. I continue, “Ok…ok… I’ll run out to the parking area and get the beach number and call the Coast Guard. Then I’ll call back after I’ve talked with them.” I run as fast as I can to the sign and it says Beach 6. I dial 911 for the first time in my life.
And the female operator asks, “What’s your situation?”
I ask, “Can you patch me through to the Coast Guard?”
The operator asks me again, “What’s your situation?” implying she isn’t going to do anything unless she knows specifically what is going on.
I communicate, “My son is training for a triathlon and I haven’t seen him in 40 minutes. He’s swimming in the lake.”
Operator communicates, “I’ll call the Coast Guard.”
A male voice asks me the same thing as the 911 operator, “What’s the situation?”
I repeat the same thing, “My son is training for a triathlon and I haven’t seen him in 40 minutes. He’s swimming in the lake.”
The serviceman from the Coast Guard repeats in small phrases the same thing I am saying to him and it is obvious he is on the radio to whoever they are going to send in for a search and rescue.
The Coast Guard dispatcher asks me, “what does your son looks like?”
I calmly report, “He’s a big guy, about 6’3”. He’s wearing a black wet suit. You can’t miss him.” As soon as I made the last statement, I realize how stupid it sounds. I missed him. And I ask myself, How could I miss him, you big dummy?
The dispatcher asks me for my name and I tell him, “My name is Tom Matta.” He pauses and I can hear him talking in a muffled tone to the people that he will send out. “Do you have everything ready to roll there? On my signal you’ll proceed to Beach 6.”
Now this phone conversation is taking place all the while I am walking back to the beach from the Beach 6 sign on the far end of the parking lot. So, I am now facing the direction that I’m expecting the Coast Guard boats to come.
As I hear him continue to bark out orders, my attention shifts from my looking at my feet as I walk in the sand to a person I see way off in the distance. The person is walking toward me and I can see that the upper portion of a wet suit is hanging down in front. And at that moment, the person begins to use both arms to wave at me to get my attention. It’s my son! Tommy! I yell into the phone, “I found him. It’s him. He’s waving to me.”
The Coast Guard dispatcher, asks “ is he still in the water or is he waving from the beach?”
I answer back, “He’s on the beach. He’s on the beach! Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so-o much!”
“That’s all right, Tom. That’s what we’re here for.”
I hang up the phone and make a beeline to my son. I call my wife in the meantime to share the good news. I start to tear up and then catch myself. We meet and stop looking at each other quizzically.
I begin, “You almost got picked up by the Coast Guard.”
We both recognized some serious miscommunication took place and each of us took responsibility for the part we each played in this fiasco. When we got back to the house, I found myself asking both sons, “are you hungry for some breakfast? How about some good coffee? Another cup? I just wanted to wait on them and serve them.
I honestly cannot remember the last time I was that frightened. I also felt “dumb as a box of rocks.” I think of myself as a good parent, but watch out for the lapses!
Hats off to the 911 operator and the Coast Guard dispatcher! Thanks again.
2 Comments
June 10, 2008 at 2:24 pm
I still feel bad for putting him through that experience – and not having any eyewear that put me at 20×20 made the situation even worse. Whenever I would look to the shore, I couldn’t tell the difference between a blurry lifeguard chair and a blurry person standing on the beach. So I kept swimming and figured he was there until I got to a point where there were no more phantoms on the shore. Then I thought he must have gone to the bathroom.
The other reason I swam out of sight so quickly was that I was swimming with the current away from my dad, and then swimming against the current towards him.
Maybe I should buy him a pair of binoculars for Father’s Day.
Tom (the swimmer from the story)
June 15, 2008 at 9:01 am
What a crazy experience! Poor dad! I’m just glad that they didn’t actually send out the coast guard! Although, it would’ve added to the story…