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Newsletter 2022-03-07

As a parent, a good day is any day when I don’t have to take a kid to the hospital. Thursday was not a good day. The problem actually started two days earlier with a call from the athletic trainer at the high school. I don’t have a kid in high school, but when it comes to injuries, my daughters punch above their weight. My eleven-year-old, Betsy, is on the middle school swim team. They practice at the high school since the middle school doesn’t have a pool. That’s still a step up from when I was in school and we didn’t have a pool at all. We had to practice at the local YMCA first thing in the morning or late at night before or after it was open to the general public. The YMCA staff rightly predicted that letting us swim with the regulars would be a disaster. Despite participating in a sport where being able to get in the water without dying is sort of a prerequisite, I was never far from drowning, and the one lifeguard on duty needed to be able to give me their full attention. Betsy …