Since I’m a 31 y.o. dude, you’re probably thinking that my “Learning To Swim” title is an artistic reference to becoming free or liberated in something. No. I was a 31 y.o. dude that was very good at drowning!
Brown people don’t swim. That’s the truth. Since we grew up in predominantly poor neighborhoods, no one has the luxury of owning a swimming pool, leaving near a park that has a swimming pool, or living next to a natural body of water (ocean, lakes, rivers, etc).
Added to that, the fact that I have banged-up, arthritic joints due to my hemophilia, I was a fish with broken fins, destined to fail.
Here’s how poor I was. A few blocks down from my neighborhood, lived our good friends and my parents compadres*, the Gonzalez’. They were and still are, like our extended family. Well there house just so happened to be right next to a canal. You’re thinking Oh no, well I’m here to say Oh yes, we used that thing as a Water Park. Looking back, it was extremely dangerous, unsanitary, and just plain stupid. To me, however, it still brings a smile to my face. There truly is something special about being the children of immigrant parents in America. You get great stories like these. We even had a funny name for our “Water Park”, Chicano Big Surf. Good times.

