I was 8 years young and already a smartass mentally, but not physically big enough to be impressive to anyone except myself. Also, I carried the physical image of a “husky” boy, as my grandmother, who was a department store buyer for children’s clothing and shoes, would say. My mother and father had managed to organize a family vacation to the Shenandoah Valley, at a natural lake with cabins for families to rent. The lake was the swimming area for cabin renters, and quite a few families were staying during the warm mid-summer time. Lots of people were out for fun in the water. Dad, my mom, me, my brother, and two sisters were playing in the part of the lake roped off for safe swimming, with the water no more than a couple feet deep. I decided, with the help of an auto-tire innertube, that I could safely float into the deep part, past the rope boundary, although I did not yet know how to swim well. I proceeded to do so, feeling puffed up and brave, and then suddenly I was flipped over into the water, and the innertube was being held away from me by my dad. I spluttered, struggled, flailed, and drank in a lot of water before my dad grabbed me and helped me breathe again. The lesson was quite simple: Do Not go in water over your head unless you can swim well. I was embarrassed, angry, and pouted for the rest of the day. I held onto that anger for several years, and let it go long after my dad had passed on. My family did not talk about things much, or perhaps I could have let go of the anger much sooner. Another lesson: when emotion is involved, talk it out as soon as your mind will let you.