It seems as if after every summer long weekend, especially here in the Kawarthas, sadly, there are drownings. Whenever I hear the news, I’m reminded of a story from long ago.

Once the last day of school arrived, I knew it wouldn’t be long until we went up to Lake Simcoe, where we rented a cottage every year. Our time at the cottage was pretty much perfect, reading comics, playing badminton, except for one thing — swimming lessons. My mother insisted that my brothers and I take the free lessons that were offered at the beach every morning. I dreaded getting into the cold water beside the green, slimy dock, shivering in the weeds, my feet sinking into the muddy bottom. We’d practice the arm movements in the air, and then the instructor would tell us to put our heads under the water and open our eyes. He’d go in front of each swimmer to ask how........

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