...Ruby lips above the water/Blowing bubbles, soft and fine/But, alas, I was no swimmer/So I lost my Clementine.....
"I can't swim" has got to be about the lamest thing I've ever heard. Okay, if you live in a desert and the largest body of water is a raindrop, maybe I would consider letting it pass. But on a shoreline state? In a neighborhood where there are pools? What the hell are you thinking?
Close behind are "I don't know CPR" and "I can't drive a stickshift."
Learn, damn you. It might be important.
(Oh My Darling Clementine; Percy Montrose or Barker Bradford, 1884)
2 comments:
Some of us can swim, but not well and have a deep seated fear of the water despite having grown up on the shore of a lake.
Maybe it has something to do with older siblings thinking it was funny to tell gruesome stories of drowning, then dunking their little brother repeatedly...
On the other hand, I can drive a manual transmission, cook an excellent meal from scratch, change a diaper, design machines, play guitar, read tarot cards, write fiction, bandage a wound, build a fire, comfort the hurting, give orders, take orders, cooperate, act alone and live gallantly. Specialization is for insects.
Paul, if you can rescue a drowning child, help someone breathe until the EMTs arrive or drive someone else's car to the hospital, you qualify as an asset to the human race.
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