Coolness?

I have been in a number of situations where the possibility of dying was very real, but only one where I would say that possibility was very close. What happened was, I nearly drowned; not once, but three times. The first one was the traditional sink or learn to swim situation so it doesn't count since whatever danger there might have been was imagined. (Then again, imaginations do inform, and sometimes create, reality.)

The second involved my being unwilling to heed a variety of warnings and insisting on swimming beyond the roped off section of a lake with a “don’t worry, I can swim”; there is this vague recollection of someone shoving a board at me but don’t remember much more than that – or the rest of the day for that matter. I was 16 at the time; had been attending a Tap Room picnic and had drunk a lot of beer. (It was several decades into the future before I could tolerate even the smell of beer.)

Having managed to survive to the age of 21, there was yet another opportunity to do it again. I was stone sober that time. We, that is, myself and a few friends, had trailered a ski boat upriver (the Delaware) just past the NE Philadelphia border,  to a place where there was a public boat ramp that was part of a park with picnic tables and such.  We put the boat in the water and while some of us, myself included, were hanging around the picnic area; others were water skiing.

Somehow or another, the ski line broke and they came close to shore while they tried to fix it. As the former Navy guy with an expert knowledge of knots, I offered to do the fixing. I hadn't planned on swimming that day and was wearing full (long pants) Levi’s. Undeterred, I swam out to the boat and worked on the ski line while the boat, me with it, drifted downriver. Ski line fixed, I prepared to swim back. “Hey, we can take you back in the boat.” I looked towards shore and while it would be a long swim, thought I could make it.

But I couldn't. Hadn't counted on the strong under current; I’d swim towards shore until I was too tired to go on and then float for a while only to find myself back in the middle of the river, some ways further downriver. It became apparent that I wasn't going to be swimming back to shore and it was about time to make a decision. What decision?

Whether to lose my cool and holler for help – or drown. That was a big decision and required a lot of thought. Tried swimming one more time; not even making as much progress as I had the last time I tried. Float and think. Give it another 15 minutes….

Okay, yell; wave my arms and yell some more. Wait a minute, what are those people standing around over on the shore doing? I’m out here drowning and they’re waving at me! I wasn’t saying hello, I was going under!

Of course they weren’t waving at me; they were trying to get the attention of our friends in the boat; which they did. And when they got to me, one guy had to get in the water and pushed while the other guy pulled me into the boat. I couldn’t so much as lift an arm to contribute to the effort. The boat then had to just go around in circles for a good while before I could be assisted to a spot on the grass.  

Just what was it that I had to think about? To appear uncool, or die?

Just what is it to be “cool”?

Is it the well dressed snobs who are one step away from being verbal bullies and seem to smile a lot.

Or the kids in the traditional jeans and leather jackets who may be one step away from being criminals but for surenever seem to smile.

Certainly not the in-between’s trying to stay out of the sights of both of those groups and who are just a few years away from ruling them all. 

It is more than self-image alone; you can’t just decide you’re cool and that will be how others perceive you. Is “cool” a matter of dress? Speech? Attitude? Some combination of all these? It would seem to be ultimately indefinable; you just know it when you encounter an actual example, and even that perception will vary by socioeconomic groups, gender and race.

So what was I thinking? I really have and, most likely had, no idea.