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Nancy’s post about her son, Alex, reminded me of George’s lifelong love of swimming.

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Pool time began when he was just nine months old. He wore a little yellow union suit with an inner tube around his middle, and that first summer he reveled in the freedom of floating, arms slapping at the water, squeals rising each time a splash hit his face.

By the summer before his second birthday, Georgie had mastered crawling and would make his way over to his Daddy, saying “Please” (more like “ease”)—his signal for, “Throw me in!” His father would lift him high and launch him across the pool. Delighted, Georgie’s face cracked wide in a grin, four tiny teeth shining. He’d soar skyward, arms flailing, then rocket downward, splashing into the water, usually face up in the middle of the pool. Then he’d paddle back, calling out his full vocabulary: “Dada… ease!… more… (and at last, a new one) again!”

Who could resist? His dad threw him again and again. Georgie’s brothers, Alex and Kyle, cheered and soon begged for turns, until an assembly line of flying boys formed. Their father would toss them one after another until he was exhausted. The older boys moved on to other games, but Georgie always returned, paddling back with a mischievous smile and his irresistible “Ease?”

When Daddy wasn’t around, I joined in, though I could never throw him as high or as far. Georgie never showed disappointment, only delight—and a clear preference for his father when both of us were there. 

Rarely, his acrobatics ended in a heart-stopping moment—Georgie landing upside down, feet in the air, face under. “He’s going to drown!” I’d scream, diving in. But he was stronger than I feared. Kicking hard, he righted himself and swam for the edge, calling out triumphantly, “More! Again! Ease!”

From those early splashes in his yellow suit to the roar of high school crowds, the pool remains one of his favorite places.  A favorite memory was the district championships his senior year. As Georgie took his mark for the 100-meter freestyle, the bleachers erupted: “GEORGE!  GEORGE!  GEORGE!”  The chant thundered as he surged down the lane, faster than we’d ever seen him.  He slapped the wall and punched the air as teammates rushed to high-five him.  He had swum his best race and the crowd’s roar carried him out of the pool, triumphant.