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The Breaststroke…Non-Olympic Style

Story ID:8212
Written by:Charles Dishno (bio, contact, other stories)
Location:Dillon Montana USA
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The Breaststroke…Non-Olympic Style
By Chuck Dishno

Now that we are in the midst of the 2012 Summer Olympics, I had to tell this story.

About 1971, Roz and I moved to a 5-acre place in Clovis, CA. We had lots of room to roam with a couple of dogs, horse and a few barn cats.

I had done a lot of swimming when I was a kid on Oregon on rivers and lakes and I thought it would be nice to have a swimming pool on our property. After a few years of planning and thinking, we finally had company build a 23 x 40 foot one just outside the back door adjoining the patio. It was nice to have a place to cool off on the 100+ days of summer.

I could swim OK but Roz had never done much swimming and wasn’t too sure of the deep end of the pool, so I bought her book on how to swim. We both enjoyed the pool though and had many visitors come over to join in the fun.

In the summer of 1975 we borrowed a tent trailer and along with my son 13-year-old son, Mike took a trip to my hometown of Bly, Oregon. Roz had been there before but I wanted Mike to see where I was born and raised. We camped out in Sprague Canyon where I spent much of my summers swimming and fishing in the Sprague River.

We had a great time and it was fun showing Mike all the things I used to do when I was his age, well maybe not all the things I did, but most of them since I wanted him to know what a great time I had growing up in this unique time and town.

One evening after we had eaten a dinner of fish trout that we had caught that day, Mike was sleeping in one end of the tent trailer and Roz and I in the other. Roz who always had a book in her hand was reading on swimming. She turned to me and said, “Chuck, what is the difference between the breaststroke and the Australian crawl?” I turned to her, reached out and gave her a breast stroke. I then heard Mike let out a snort and say, “Wow, I can hardly wait for the Austrian crawl.” After the laughter had died down, we all went to sleep.

The next day we headed for home with many memories of a good time in Bly.

Roz never did learn to swim but I’m sure Mike never forgot the breaststroke explanation.