This is my parents’ backyard. And this was my parents’ backyard the other day…filled with canoers rowing through on the world’s toughest canoe race.
And whenever this race happens, once a year, this is what my family does. We sit on the dock and root for the rowers. I missed this year because I was in town for BlogHer food, but my brother sent me this photo. Note the playpen on the dock. Around here, docks and babies go together like peanut butter and jelly.
My dad is the guy standing up. He always roots for the racers the loudest because he knows first-hand how crazy you have to be to row a boat from Central Texas to the Gulf of Mexico…he did the Water Safari in 1966.
That’s my dad on the left. He and a friend made the trip when he was 22 years old…Here’s what he had to say about it.
Me: “So why did you guys do this?”
My dad: “I have no idea. We were young. And stupid. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Me: “Was it a good idea?”
My dad: “Well, I wouldn’t use the word good.”
My brother, David: “That first group we saw this year, I watched them online, and they finished the whole race in 39 hours.”
Me: “39 hours? That was the first group? How long did it take you guys, Dad?”
My dad: “Way longer than that.”
Me: “How long did it take you?”
My dad: “I don’t remember. But it was days. We got lost a few times…we didn’t exactly have iPhones to track our location. We just sort of went. And traveling at night was rough because it turned out our waterproof light wasn’t actually waterproof.”
Me: “That’s never good.”
My dad: “The first night, we were paddling somewhere around Gonzales, and we heard some rushing water. Right as we were on top of it, we realized it was a dam. And, long story short, in the process of not killing ourselves, we capsized. We decided then not to row at night anymore.”
Me: “That’s probably a good policy anyway. … But was it fun?”
My dad: “I’m not sure I’d use the word fun … It was an experience.”
David: “Mom, did you follow him?”
My mom: “No. We were just dating. I figured if he made it back alive, we’d keep dating.”
David: “Well, I’m glad that worked out. For everyone.”
Me: “So, okay, that was 47 years ago. You and David should do the race three years from now to mark the 50th anniversary.”
My dad: “Well. That’s one way to go.”
He’s a man of few words, and I’ll never get the real story out of him. But the Water Safari sounds like a really awesome thing to do in theory and a really difficult and/or dumb thing to do in general…especially pre-everything-electronic. I can totally see my dad doing this though. He’s so in, for whatever, and my brother and sister and I get this honestly. My mother says she has three only children…we’re all completely different…and we’re all totally game.
That said, I can not even imagine just getting in a boat…with no direction or connection…and heading south. But when I think about it, and when I was 22, I did things equally as dumb. Hell, I still do things equally as dumb on the regular.
So I get it. I have it. I like the experience. And I guess I have my dad to thank for this trait. This, sure–let’s do this–why not, trait. This works for and against me, and I’ve capsized just as often (if not more) than not. But life is short, ignorance is bliss, and all’s well until your light goes out or you find a snake in your boat. It happens. You keep going.
So this is what I’ve figured out: Taking risks runs in our family … and if we ever forget that fact…it runs through our backyard every year.