Swim time story.

Not only was this to be the first time swimming since the trauma a few years back. It was also the first extended trip in the new truck. The trip itself, (over the river and through the woods) began well before dawn. And it was a good one.

During the rather long solitary trip, every mile another mile further from home. The comfort zone there slowly being left behind as the drive progressed. Apprehensions crept in. How would they feel about what they saw? Would they be put off by the now broken body tottering about with braces and canes? What would they see? How would the fresh new frailties make them feel? How to react properly to the dramatic changes? A growing self-consciousness about presentation and appearance seemed to fill the truck. It all became rather scary.

Arrival at the lake home occurred mid day. This was to be with Grandma and Grandpa, all the siblings, and dozens of cousins. Quite a houseful in a little cottage. But it was a lovely day. The action was going to be in the lake itself.

After a five hour trip, the first challenge was how to get a most weary body safely inside and just stop moving. Advancing through the greeting line was indeed stressful. The long trip had reduced any semblance of confidence, balance, or muscular control to mere nubbins. The happy gauntlet of gawkers was only going to add to the challenges ahead.

Underfoot, the pathway itself was no more than narrow boards run along the grass. Too narrow to confidently place one cane in front of the other while paying attention to where feet landed. This was not going to be a spot to show off the smooth, controlled, confident gait which the excellent rehab folks had instilled. It would be more like desperate rock climbing. Each move would be purchased at a price. And only through focussed effort. One move at a time. The solution was to place the canes onto the surrounding grasses, come what may with the sturdiness of the soil encountered. Risky business.

The mildly elevated footpath was of sturdy construction and stable enough to navigate. But having one’s canes suddenly become a couple inches shorter than expected added to the growing snowball of challenges. Lay upon this a couple dozen well wishers doing the typical Norwegian exuberant greeting thing. And we have a recipe for disaster. Way out side the comfort zone.

Of course at least one stumble to the ground would occur. And it did. Something didn’t land right. Far too many unique distractions occurring all at once following directly upon a five hour truck trip. Balance was lost. Sensing the breakdown, the mob drew in even tighter. Their impulse was to help. It did not. The canes went out and down goes everything.

No harm done by the fall. Learning how to fall is an essential skill. Retrieving the canes for the climb back to vertical went just fine. Two lucky nieces handed them back. They were beaming for being so very, very helpful. Of course they did not realize that their buoyant greetings were a major contributor to the incident. Nor will they ever. Kids don’t need to know that.

The adults however, being family members, have since been counseled at great lengths to resist that well-meaning herding instinct which they find all but irresistible to ignore. Until we spoke about it directly. They simply did not realize that their well wishing and admirable impulse to hover close about as challenging terrain was being navigated. Was completely counter productive. It is nice to have the emotional support but quite distracting when it comes to solving the physics puzzle of the moment.

No longer having over half of the key ingredients available for balance while ambulating set up their distracting herding, hovering behavior for an inevitable fall. Yes they sincerely and compassionately desired to be helpful. Nothing wrong with that. But the whole deal of distracting tight in close proximity and pleasant, affectionate chatter broke the tenuous grasp of balance available at the time. Not all of this has been resolved to date. But it has gotten better.

The studied climb back to upright commenced. This is done by grabbing both canes firmly midway up the shaft in one hand. The initial notion is to achieve a stable fully erect kneeling position. Draw a breath, focus upon where things are. Look down and inspect, legs not crossed, no crud in the way for the next move, everything looking to be in a stable three-point position. If so continue. If not make adjustments as necessary. Draw in a breath and its time for the alley oop move.

The alley oop move is in some ways similar to that employed by a gymnast when mounting a pommel horse from the center. One employ’s upper body strength to transfer nearly all the weight to the hands and shoulders. Hand strength and shoulders do it all. It is more dramatic, and far easier to accomplish with a solid object firmly in hand. Something like a tractor, or a pommel horse, or a tree. In that setting both legs can return to upright at once. Zippity bip and it is done. Generate a shoulder lift, rotate, and pull up move. Doing this with just canes in free space is a dicier proposition.

Bear in mind that the canes are only there because they are being held there. Change the forces acting upon those slender canes, and they may choose to leave the scene. However, with a bit of practice it too can get the job done.

Then, with this newly formed three point stance made firm. (Two canes held together with both hands, and kneeling.) One can carefully draw one leg forward. It really isn’t difficult. Once this stance is won and stable, it is time for grabbing hold of one cane with each hand by the normal handle. Think strong thoughts. Ignore the attentive crowd. Be in control, and go for it.

In a hippy jiffy quick, transfer more weight on to the well-contained cane supports and thrust vertically upward. Arch the back and pull with the shoulders. It only takes an instant. The leg left behind will follow along. Don’t over do it. For this will lead to a nasty tumble move forward. Still, with practice, just the right energy can be recruited to get back into the vertical. Hunched over of course, but upright. Then it is just stretch out straight, take a breath and back to ambulating. Success brought a sigh of relief from the crowd to an inaudible roar. Ain’t life grand?

The rest of the hundred-foot hike to the cottage proceeded without incident. That is until the three step front stoop was encountered. Not even a hint of a handrail in sight. Hmmmm. This could be interesting.

This too can be figured out. The wooden steps are broad, deep, and sturdy. So it seems one step at a time is the best choice. Just to be on the safe side, a short negotiation with the sturdiest and most experienced of the sisters offered up a completely willing and capable spotter for the coming adventure. She is a nurse after all. We made each other aware of our intended actions and dove right in. It was zero trouble. First step, two canes, one foot. Then two feet. Rebalance, and repeat for the following two. It was a piece of cake. Having the skilled sister right behind was the key to success. For which she was given credit.

Entering the cottage door revealed a freshly waxed hardwood floor with pretty cotton throw rugs scattered here and there. Not good. It was a brand new birch flooring affair with tasteful rugs, splendid color choices, dazzling shine, even beautiful, perhaps. But not good. Not good for walking with canes that is.

The aforementioned sister realized the gaffe and found a way to have those loose throw rugs disappear for the duration of the visit. Bless her. The short walk through the kitchen commenced.

Onwards through the far too shiny kitchen and into the deep pile carpeted main room of the house. Getting away from the distracting dazzle of that immaculate wax job in the kitchen was actually a relief. Yet once in the main room, inspecting and choosing the right seat to occupy became job one.

Too hard, not good, too soft, also not good. The best available padded rocking chair seemed like the right thing. So it was selected.

How does one sit down? It is not that big of a deal, but it takes a snidge of planning to accomplish. First walk straight up to it and address the chair front and center. What is coming ahead is a planned fall. So the feet need to be in the right spot at the get go. Two canes in two hands switches to two canes in one hand. Rotate the torso. Grasp the armrest of the targeted chair with the free hand. Transfer weight from the cane holding hand onto the armrest hand. Settle up and determine to rotate the feet, abandon the canes, and manage the second armrest before the fall gains any serious momentum. Catch the midair position squarely with both shoulders, and skillfully lower down into the chair. Settle in to the right posture and you be there.

Next, collect up the tossed canes so as not to have them in any one else's foot path, and relax. Sit back. Enjoy the conversation.

Family chit chat about little league games, funny stories from work, current events, small jokes, memories of days long past, where interwoven in a casual tapestry. The incidents encountered upon arrival were washing away in this comfortable family setting. All the while final lunch preperations were occuring in the background. It would be ready soon.

A few moments later the bell was rung. Lunch was ready. Story telling paused. The short rest was over. It was time to move again.

Woof.

The transition from the low soft chair into position for walking to the dinner table is fairly straightforward. Arrange the feet directly in front. Place them close together. Get a good firm grasp on both canes. Set them right by the heels. Lean forward, lean them forward, and pull up. What follows is a smooth move which gently stops just as one becomes vertical. Stand fully upright, achieve a good balance, and prepare to do the right foot, left foot drill.

Lunch went just fine. The conversations begun were simply carried along intact to the dinning table. Excellent dinner table chatter abounded. Now that all the kids were present, the braver ones folded their clever stories into the feast. Clearly everyone seated at the tables liked each other. All of this served the growing bubble of comfort and acceptance. A good time was had by all.

A bed pillow was graciously provided for sitting on the sturdy hardwood chair. And it was fine. The spread of wonderfully prepared familiar home cooked food hit the spot. So why not indulge in all the fun Norske food stuff?

Eventually everyone had had their fill. Tables were cleared. With the meal, internal confidence had quietly been replenished. Feeling completely recharged, it was off to the warm Minnesota sun shining down on the lake.

First up of course was to hit the bathroom tend, to bladder business and don a proper swimsuit. Since the backpack, a beloved backpack, is always a companion on every out of the house trip, was still onboard the truck. Summoning a few of the eager nieces to retrieve it for the swimming expedition was a simple thing. It really only took one of them, but three bright shiny faces instantly leaped at the chance to be helpful. This they did in short order.

Inside the backpack, the rather new blue, blue, purple, baggy boxer style suit was right there atop the full array of dry clothes. That particular suit was purchased just for the rehab folks. The gals always needed to see, feel, handle, manipulate skinny thin legs, knobby knees and all. It is completely understandable. It is also a curiously pleasant sensation to be handled by competent hands. So why not pick out something nice looking for those sessions?

Toileting was a bit strange. But only because it was done in a different room than the usual. No grab bar to be found anywhere, yet it was manageable. Transfers to and from any toilet is pretty much the same as with a chair. Only slower. That seat down there is hard. The swimsuit was successfully exchanged without much fuss. All that remains is the walk through the house and down the hundred-yard path to the lake.

On this journey nothing remarkable occurred. Something says that the reliable younger sister swept into a productive herding mode to encourage all the other folks away to provide ample space to allow proper concentration for the short walk to the lake. If so, she wins points.

Navigating the transitions from linoleum (all throw rugs cleverly removed) to carpet, to doorway, to wood deck went smoothly. As did the several no handrail steps down to the path to the lake.

Going down steps is usually more challenging than going up. But not so this time. It was a one step at a time deal unhindered by the gaze of the crowd. The politely inattentive and pleasantly distant well wishers no doubt contributed in their own way to these stair steps. The boat dock was just one step up. It also went fine. The dock itself was perfect for walking. Wide, sturdy and stable, it was accomplished with ease.

Waiting at the end of the dock however was the curious challenge of how to get down into a reasonable seated position for the first plunge. That is a first plunge in a controlled manner, as opposed to toppling in to the drink from a stumble.

It was a simple thing. The same trusted sister made a couple of boat cushions ready. The transition from standing to sitting was accomplished. It is a controlled upper body lifting then gentle lowering down for the last few inches.

Next comes slipping off the shoes so that the braces can be removed. Braces like to come off. On this day, the set worn were of the lightweight milky plastic variety. They have stainless steel ankle joints molded in place. Ripping a few strips of velcro releases their firm grab. Inevitable foot and ankle swelling will require a firm hand to pull them off. But it always works without any tissue damage.

Take both off, place them in a handy position for retrieval. And it is off to the races. Socks and tee shirt also need to disappear for the upcoming plunge. This is done in the ordinary way.

Knowing that the water is plenty deep for a dive in, it is an easy deal to simply lift up with ones hands and propel one forward into the blue. Woo hoo. We be swimming.

If truth be told actually going swimming was the least of the concerns for this small adventure. Having been a boy scout life guard in high school, on an NCAA winning swim team in college, and more recently been a party to an olympic calibre swift water rescue team, the swimming itself wasn’t even a side show. Yet it sure was a welcome release. Most welcome memories returned. A few tears were shed prior to the frolic in the water.

Upon plunging in. It was immediately evident that the water by the dock was too shallow for the proper buoyancy thing to occur. So an akward fumbling hand paddle into deeper waters was in order. That took but a few minutes. When the right depth was achieved, letting go, and just swimming followed right along.

It was great.

No, the now dysfunctional skiny legs with out even a hint of muscle bulk did not contribute to any sort of propulsion forward. But that was not the issue. The issue was achieving freedom to move as one chooses regardless of gravity and boring stuff like that. It went just fine, breast stoke, back stroke, side stroke, and a simple crawl were all diddled with. Call it a random frolic with the cool blue Minnesota waters. Wonderful.

The side stroke worked poorly. The freshly odd uncontrollable buoyancy issues regarding passing one leg over the other did not seem to work that day. Their preference was to sink. The knobby knees kept getting stuck one upon the other. This was disappointing for it had been a perennial favorite. But the others did just fine. It was great.

Following more than enough deep-water frolic time. Returning inland to just chest deep water felt right. Walking about nearly weightless was really cool. At the urging of a few camera toting sisters a few handstands were performed for the grandstand. As was a lengthy period of just lolling about. Their photos are rather comical. They capture nothing but wispy thin and very white legs, flailing all akimbo above the waterline. Silliness. A Kodak moment.

No big deal.

Yes you can, questions and comments are always welcome.


All writing involves Point of View. This means the writer has chosen, based on his/her analysis of the reader and writing situation, a speaker for the ideas presented in the words written. It is a key decision typically made at the very start of any composition. Point of View concerns who is explaining or arguing, and its most important rule involves consistency.

First Person refers to the use of “I” in explaining or arguing out the scene. It tends to be used when the writer narrates personal experience; it can be the perspective of choice because it creates a natural style. It also lends itself to fictional accounts. In those circumstances, a natural, conversational style may be more desirable than the objective tone and style obtained when the writer uses third person.

If the first person is the appropriate Point of View, the writer must remember one point: excessive repetition of “I” in any writing distracts the reader from the issues at hand. That is, there is a danger of drawing away the reader's eye from the events within the story and onto the narrator, or author. It can easily digress into egocentricity. Sometimes this is not desirable

Third Person Point of View can provide a more objective approach to the work. Its value lies in its ability to subordinate the person writing and emphasize the issues being discussed, but it is often a difficult point of view to sustain because writers naturally tend to bring themselves into their prose.

Third Person does not allow for direct self-expression. Hence the complete absence of pronouns like "I", "me", and "mine". An attentive writer can overcome their absence with proper sentence structure. A balance needs to be struck between the use of passive and active structures. Heavy reliance upon the somewhat simpler to develop passive voice tends to dry the thing out. Yet efforts to employ the active voice for impact can sometimes lead to rather awkward sentences. Third Person’s asset is its objectivity in tone and style. Which of necessity imposes a natural distance between the author and the reader.

If examples are to be sought of the Third Person Point of View, look to the novels of: Austen, Dickens, Tolstoy, Flaubert, and Hemingway. In fiction, The First Person Point of View is arguably more common. To see three variants of the First Person Point of View seek out: Melville, "Moby Dick", Conrad "The Heart of Darkness", and Salinger "Catcher in the Rye".

Since this piece was intended to be largely informational. The activities encountered in the story are preeminent. It was desired to write in a style which focussed upon the action itself, and not the author. Hence The Third Person Point of View was chosen.

That's what’s up with that.

Hey Carpenter,
A beautiful piece indeed. Point of view seems to have been chosen with care...
But most of all - a piece which in all its beauty shows how Mt Everest is conquered with the extra load of handling the well-meaning able-bodied gawkers, who see only what isn't there any more. Both challenges require a lot of courage and strength to counter. Congratulations!
Karine

Very nice piece, Carpenter. Thank you for sharing.

Devboy is a dirty bandwidth thief and has no right to complain. On POV, I would disagree that the first person narrative is the most common, especially in more modern works. If you look at, say, the New York Times Bestseller list, probably the vast majority from the past 20 years are written in the third person. I think people tend to choose the third person because you're not as limited on where you can go... you're not stuck in one person's head for the entire novel. Children's books tend to be written in the first person, maybe to make it easier for the kids to relate to the main character.

It's "fun" for writers to play with voice, although it's hard (at least for me) to keep it up for a very long period of time. I don't think I've ever seen an entire book written in a passive voice. Another thing that seemed popular for a while was writing things in the 2nd person, "you". Oddly enough, that's also a popular voice to use in erotic fiction. ("You unzip my pants...")

hey, i'm really not trying to cause trouble or insult people. i do find it interesting. carpenter obviously knows exactly what he's doing in re using third person and passive tense all the time, as evidenced by his very thorough response earlier. and i'm just curious as to what his motivation is for his regular posts... using your explanation above, carpenter, are you trying to make your posts more objective and less personal? and my remark about the periods/commas is also out of curiosity.. you did it again just now: "For a fascinating look at a master playing with point of view. Orson Wells, "Citizen Kane" is the film to watch." I would have used a comma there....

I don't want to imply, carpenter, but in explaining about commas and grammar, you left out a few more, as in...

I really don't wish to generate any strife here. For that is completely counterproductive.

Anyways, you're right that it doesn't matter. I don't even know why I'm pointing this out to you, but it was bothering me.

Let's get back on topic, guys!

Dude, it's just a message board. You don't need to use your new-fangled fancy city grammar on here. It's a lot easier to have a discussion when people just write the way they would talk.

Unless you talk. Like this.