100 Things About Me #110

If You Knew Sushi Like I Know Sushi
My mother loved the ocean.

I do, too, although I don't like to be in it.

Even at an early age, I questioned the logic of splashing in the waves. Mom would make me bob in the murky surf, but she would not let me wallow in a rat-infested latrine.

What's the difference? It's all debris, danger, and disease waiting to happen.

I used to discuss my observations with her. She'd get indignant and brush me off. I would be really dirty after a swim and require a brooming.

I took Mom to see "Jaws" in the summer of 1975. The scariest part for me was the movie's revelation that most shark attacks occur in three feet of water. I haven't been more than knee deep since.

I also Scotchgard my shins.

Mother didn't comment on "Jaws," other than to make her obligatory after-show remark, "That was cute."

"Jaws" was "cute." Every movie was "cute."

During numerous subsequent beach vacations, however, I never saw Mom swim in the ocean again.

I felt bad for her and very relieved.

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