Sink or Swim

You were stolen and murdered by monsters in the most unfathomable manner possible.

We – as a large and loving community, are all grieving your loss. Your partner Manny and your 4 babies are too.

What a gentle, beautiful girl you were. A proud mother, partner, and symbol of elegance and grace, you will always be in our hearts, Faye.

You were one of many, many cygnets who gently swam in the Village of Manlius’ Swan Pond in its 100-year history, and we hope you won’t be the last.

courtesy Manlius Historical Society

You, Manny, and so many of your duck friends created so much joy and fond memories. It was a tradition for many of us to visit The Swan Pond, especially after getting ice cream at Sno-Top just a short walk away.

Photo by Traci

You taught us to appreciate – and respect – nature. Sadly, not everyone is capable of that – which is why we need to step up to protect future generations.

You were the newest angel in a long tradition, Faye, and now, you really are one. Please keep watch over Manny and your babies, and you’ll never be forgotten.

Photo courtesy Elizabeth Stanistreet

When was the last time you received a nice, handwritten, call it – old-fashioned – note or letter from someone?

I got to thinking of the various letters I received from my grandfather when I was a child. His artistic, Catholic school handwriting on sheets of legal size paper (yes, he was an attorney!) should’ve been donated to the Handwriting Museum of the World, if there was one. He would write from his winter home in Florida, and always give me some sort of assignment, be it a book to read and report on (which I disliked doing in school because I had to), or pick a subject and write about it. I don’t think I have any of them due to the countless moves I’ve made over the years, but his handwriting was just amazing. That’s something that saddens me – to think cursive is no longer taught in school. Handwritten letters, especially in beautiful cursive, seem so archaic, but they still warm my heart.

Later, in my teenage years, I attended an overnight camp called YMCA Camp Tousey for several years, and forged some great friendships. Mind you, this was in the 1970’s when there was no Social Media or texting, so letters from friends I met at Tousey were a treasure (and quite possibly the early stages of social media). Phone calls weren’t really a thing, as my father worked from home and was constantly on our house phone. I would run to the mailbox daily, hoping I would get letters from the “faraway places” they lived. Truth is, faraway in my young mind was actually across town, or in some rare cases, out of state. A letter with good gossip, or what they were up to during the school year, was always a fascination.

My mother always made my siblings and I write the dreaded Thank You Letter when we received a gift, no matter the occasion, or dollar amount. Ugh! Come full circle, I instilled the same value in our kids. Not sure if they will keep the tradition alive – as a mere text message seems to fit the rule of today. Sigh.

The interesting thing about my mom is that she was kind of a packrat. Well, let’s just say the Depression Era caused her to “save” A LOT of…well…stuff. She saved some letters and notes from my years at Camp Tousey – as well as from my 4 years at SUNY-Oswego in the 1980’s.

I recently discovered them and happily recalled that they were brief, and rather to the point:

Camp Tousey letter: “Camp is fun. Please send chocolate chip cookies.” (I made many friends that way)

College Letter: “Can’t write much, on my way to swim practice. PLEASE send money.” (no explanation needed)

My father would respond to the latter request with a crisp $20 or a check – and best of all – a handwritten letter with his unique sense of humor.

If you still have some treasured letters, why not take some time on a rainy day, open them up and enjoy? They are likely there for the reading and the remembrance of some kinder, gentler times – and may even provide some comfort and joy in your life.

Now it’s time to see if I can still write my name in cursive…..

Did you ever have “Rain Man Moments,” and certain numbers are locked in your brain? Sure, there are birthdates and dates of family passings, and even your parents encouraged you to memorize your Social Security number, but there are other numbers that are still significant – or even sentimental.  So, in no particular order, here are some examples: 

7-3943 – my home phone number during my childhood. That’s it, although eventually the prefix “NE” was added, and it became 637-3943.  This is not to be confused with “867-5309” (that’s Jenny’s number!)

125 1/2 – the street number to my college apartment in Oswego. It wasn’t half a house, just a walk-up flat. Does the U.S. Post Office even allow this half-address anymore? I may have to go up there this summer and investigate. I’ll check the front door, and while I’m at it, I’ll visit my favorite breakfast place – Wade’s – with my “Forever” college swim coach, Grace. Road trip! (I’m an excellent driver…)

The Babbitt Brothers take on Vegas in “Rain Man”

12:21 am and 7:32 pm – the times my kids were born. ‘Nuff said, although I know their length and weight too. As a toddler, my son would see 7:32 on the clock and would always utter, “Mama, it’s ‘theven firty two.” Gulp.

“14” – the age our then-precocious 3-year-old daughter told us when we asked what her age was. Wise beyond her years!

59.3 – the first time I “broke a minute” in the 100-yard Freestyle during my high school swimming days.  It was kind of a big deal back then, although now – breaking that time is not a big deal at all. It’s quite slow! The Raymond Babbitt in me remembers my fastest times from my college swimming days, but I won’t delve into that.

In the pool, and thinking that K-Mart sucks

48 – this time, it was for “breaking 50” for 9 holes in golf. This is also clear evidence that I’m not a very good golfer.

3-5-9-and 24 (with spotty reception)- the broadcast TV channels we had growing up in Central New York – and it just so happens that I worked at 2 of the 4 stations. Fun fact: as a news producer, I quickly learned that a newscast is only 11 minutes of news (unless you steal time from the weather girl and the sports guys)

25 or 6 to 4 – one of the best songs ever from the band Chicago, and now it’s in my head (“dadadadadah…dadadadadah…dadadadadah…dadadadadadadada…waiting for the break of day…searching for something to say…”) Sorry!

If you have any significant numbers in your life that bring you joy and allow some brief reminiscing, cherish them always. I sure do. Just don’t count cards if you decide to gamble.

Now it’s time to go – one minute to Wapner!

Here comes The Judge!

Home to me…is being in the water as it’s my sanctuary, my safe space. It’s not having a care in the world for a short amount of time, not hearing the ringing in my ears from my ongoing tinnitus nor dealing with a hectic work environment.

What is “home” to you? Share your thoughts and enjoy!

The “happy” swim season has begun for many of us in the Northeast, where high school swim teams get ready for fall swim competition, thus, our area pool temperatures have dropped significantly.

LOVE-LOVE-LOVE IT!!!

So, I just had to share on social media just how ecstatic I was. There are several social media pages I could’ve posted my joy, but I stuck solely to those of us who enjoy swimming laps in a pool.

Unfortunately, this post about swimming in cooler water landed me in some rather hot water.

It created a firestorm between the competitive swimming purists who train and compete more efficiently in temperatures ranging from the mid/high 70s to 80 degrees, versus the folks who faithfully lap swim, but due to health conditions (i.e. arthritis), prefer water in the mid 80s – and above.

There were so many great points about the benefits to swimming in both cool and warm water. Yet, the debate raged on and on.

Another spark in my social media firestorm – let’s call it the true gasoline on the fire – was when I added an all- joking, yet snarky comment that read:

“Sorry, water aerobics ladies.” (complete with the smiling purple devil and laugh-out-loud emoji)

While this drew many “thumbs up,” laughs, hearts and supportive comments, I also upset several people, who felt the term Water Aerobics Ladies was, well, offensive. I’m not sure why simply because the women at our pool call themselves Water Aerobics Ladies. Those who found it humorous added other nicknames, and some even poked fun at themselves with terms like “Noodle Ladies” and “Aqua Fitness Gals.” Sadly, we seem to be in an era where comedians get cancelled and hypersensitivity runs rampant. How many times have you heard a young person say, “That offends me” or “Why can’t you be more politically correct?” Goodness, gracious!

So I deleted the post, and re-posted a very heartfelt apology, complete with a peace sign. But – I did not apologize for my preference of cooler water while swimming. While it drew even more Thumbs Up, hearts and also Care emojis, the Cool v. Warm Prizefight continued, and does to this day.

My Saturday 9:15 a.m. group of women all have their preferences, and out of the 5 of us, 4 are Team Cool. The Team Warm soloist complains a bit, but she manages to get in but makes sure we don’t rest much or she will get chilled and will cut short her practice with us.

We competitive swimmers will always have to deal with a variety of water temperatures and conditions that we simply do not like.  I regret that I drew the ire of “People Who Do Not Swim Competitively” – or however you wish to classify them.  Maybe we shouldn’t even label ourselves as “Competitive Swimmers” in this highly sensitive world we now live in.  

Kumbaya, everyone, or as I wrote in my apology post, Peace out!

If you’ve ever gone “coastal,” you know that under the sunny skies and below the foamy waves, there are some natural dangers in the oceans and nearby waterways.  Take for example the recent killing of a young man in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina by an alligator. It’s a rare occurrence, but this victim made a very tragic choice to look for his frisbee in a pond, even though signs are always in these areas to keep out.  Forget the darn frisbee, avoid the gator-infested pond – and keep your small (or large) dog away from it – puh-lease!

With warmer water temperatures come those odd-looking sea creatures we know as jellyfish.  One jellyfish, which was actually a good size one, wrapped its tentacles around a young family member’s leg years ago.  She almost had to go to the hospital, but was treated quickly and was left with some nasty scars for a long time.  Some creatures just can’t be avoided.

Sharks are hunting and breeding closer to the shoreline, and everyone knows what happened in “Jaws.” Yikes!  A story by reporter Jennifer Waugh of WJXT-TV in Jacksonville, Florida, suggested what colors to wear and not wear when in the ocean that will make one less “attractive” to sharks.

Wait, what?

Wetsuits have traditionally been black or dark gray, but maybe there’s some validity in this color choice story.  First of all, DO NOT WEAR YELLOW!  And no bright fingernail or toenail polish! And NO flashy jewelry (which you should not wear anyway because you’ll just lose it in the ocean).

The color of choice to keep them away is Basic Black. The secret is out for Instant shark repellent (kind of)?

I was given the chance to take SCUBA lessons, and passed that opportunity for just a snorkel and fins when in The Cayman Islands.  Amazing sights, but going too deep for the best views never appealed to me.  I did play with the stingrays which was super fun, and would definitely do it again.

Don’t get me wrong.  I was a lifeguard and Water Safety Instructor for years. I  used to enjoy the ocean – all the time. Body surfing, exploring sandbars and minnows, boogie boarding, looking for dolphins frolicking behind a fishing boat, you name it, we spent hours with our kids in the Atlantic surf.  Still, I seem to be apprehensive lately about the ocean.  Nothing bad ever happened personally, but I feel my days in the ocean are sadly dwindling.  

Self-preservation? Nervousness? Just plain wimpy? Highly likely!

Call me an “old biddy,” (because I guess I am), but the sanctity and safety of a pool seems very attractive these days.  The dark stripe at the bottom of the pool gives me the guidance I need for staying straight in a lane. The flags near each end and crosses at each endwall provide that same stability.

What was very impressive to witness at a recent coastal pool workout were the dozen-plus local firefighters who spent a hot Sunday morning, dressed in full rescue gear (boots, helmets and oxygen tanks too), and jumped in the pool for a full day of training. The combined weight of this attire, when wet, was well over 100 pounds.  Put that on a guy who is skin, bones, and muscle, thus, who likely doesn’t swim or float very well, and you’ve got a challenging situation. But  – they all climbed on a starting block, jumped in, and performed a grueling swim from the deep end to the shallow end. 

Repeatedly! 

Impressive, but necessary when you are a firefighter in a coastal community.  Kudos to these First Responders.

It saddens me to think there is a lifeguard shortage going on throughout the country.  But, I DO understand why.  A lifeguarding job was always thought of as a “glamorous” job – when it really isn’t (thanks to “Baywatch”, David Hasselhoff and Pamela Anderson, ugh!).  It’s a critical position where many of these recently trained teenagers are actual first responders, and in this day and age, many of our teenagers and young adults seem too vulnerable or nervous about anything, let alone saving a drowning victim, performing CPR, or simply having the maturity to tolerate children who won’t obey the rules.  Try rationalizing with a drunk adult at the beach when you’re 18. Not fun.

So, friends, be safe out there – no matter what you’re doing in or near the water. In the meantime, I’ll put on my brave face and work on not being too timid in my older age, and attempt to embrace all that nature’s lakes and oceans – and man-made pools – have to offer.

For the past 4 years, returning to the competition pool has been an amazing experience. Freestyling or “Flying,” blowing off Covid and work stress, feeling fit, forging new friendships, you name it, swimming has been the complete package of that term we now call Self-Care.

Workouts and tallied-up miles are in 2 of my IPhone apps, letting me know what strokes were done and even what my times were. Looking at it gives me a true sense of accomplishment, as at one point while training, I wasn’t too far off the distance I swam back in college. Hooray for me.

To think that Little Old CS would even consider swimming in a meet after 33 years was insane. But U.S. Masters Swimming and my Saturday 9:15 a.m. Crew embraced all of that. A New York State Championship meet record was broken after several years, and my Old Person Personal Best Times improved along the way. There is gratitude beyond words for what’s happened in these 4 years.

But, my shoulders and back hurt. More than ever. Remember, I am not 20 years old, I’m triple that, so with age, comes triple the aches and pains. Stretching is a daily occurrence, but twinges and the sounds of joints cracking are ever-present.

Excuse time: There are currently no meets, so why even train? The pool water has been really, really warm lately too. It’s kind of yucky, to be honest. And speaking of honest, well, honestly, my noggin isn’t on straight, either. A lot is currently happening with work, home, kids, and dogs, so lately, when I’ve gone to swim, I almost get out right after I warm up. Ugh!

Could this be…burnout? It’s not the burnout you may have experienced as a kid. Perhaps you had a son who hung up his hockey skates as a teenager, or a daughter who couldn’t handle the pressure with the high standards of playing piano. It’s the feeling that swimming has become more of a chore than enjoyment.

The remedy?

Time to take a breather. Not quit, but just reduce the time in the pool, and supplement with something else. A recent article in AARP magazine suggested that an hour of weight training can help reduce the risk of Alzheimer’s, so maybe that’s the route. It’s also golf season, and more time spent at the range before the weekly 9 hole Twilight league could also reduce the embarrassment on the course with my friends. Cross training? Ah-ha…in fact, yesterday – as much as it hurt my posterior – I sat on a spin bike at the Y, and the “5 minute plan” turned to 10, then 15, then downstairs to change and a hop in the pool for a quick 1,000. Maybe that’s the way to go.

Time will tell whether I’ll start really missing the rather intense swims I’ve had with my friends. But feeling burned out has not been a picnic. Stay tuned, or better yet – look for me taking the dog for a walk, no cap or goggles required!

In a recent issue of SWIMMER Magazine, writer Thomas Roddy Jr. shared that he stretches early, every morning, because he’s stiff from what his friend Bill refers to as “sleep injuries.”

Sleep Injuries? That is actually a brilliant term.

Most of us Baby Boomers can relate to Sleep Injuries, especially this boomer-slash-swimmer who recently had a big birthday. (WhooHoo for me).

Here’s how it works:

You get into bed, watch some Johnny Carson reruns (if you can stay up past 10 p.m.), finally fall asleep, and when you wake up, you feel like you’ve been run over by a truck. A BIG truck. Alas, Sleep Injuries have struck! The aches and pains invaded the body once again. Great. It’s Groundhog Day.

So you slowly rise, roll over, and rotate your neck, arms, ankles and legs.

Then you carefully slide off the bed, pause for a moment, stand up, and pray to The Good Lord Above you can properly walk to the bathroom to do whatever needs to be done. Ouch. Perhaps after brushing your teeth, taking your vitamins and all the other things you may need, you start walking normally.

Kind of.

Time for some coffee, and before you must start your day, you stretch for a good 5-10 minutes…just to function, like Thomas Roddy points out. Adding some strengthening exercises help, like some squats and sit-ups (although any goals I have to obtain a washboard stomach are more like a wash-TUB stomach, and washed-UP).

While doing that morning wake-up routine, one can’t help but wonder if those “things that go bump in the night” are really Sleep Injuries? If they really exist, what do they look like?

To combat the aches and pains of daily life, many people choose to take pain medications, yet many don’t – and for very good reasons. Too scary to mix with other meds, super dangerous and costly these days. Stretching is great, but swimming greatly helps reduce whatever seems to ail an older body. Why are the water exercise classes always so crowded? Those people know that’s one of the secrets to combating Sleep Injuries. For lap swimmers, the constant range of motion, strengthening drills and aerobic activity makes it easier to simply function. When it gets tiring, one of the best parts of swimming laps is when you are done with the workout and climb up the ladder to get out. Wait – a ladder? Yes – this Sleep Injury victim refuses to perform the “big pull up” at the end of the lane – just to get out!

That is when Awake Injuries happen. Be smart! And we, or should it be – I – have enough trouble just getting through the day without stubbing a toe or brushing into a wall.

So, sleep well, everyone…may Sleep Injuries never invade your body overnight like it does for so many of us. If they do cause you those morning ouchies, take it slow…stretch a lot, pray a lot (if you pray), swim if you can, and…just hang in there.

Namaste, Sleep Injuries!

While lying in bed at 4:30 this morning, my 2-year old invisible stepchild named Tinnitus was ringing in my ear. So rather than dwell on that constant whizzing sound, I got to thinking about my mother – and also about names…like people’s names and their history in my life. (Tinnitus is not one of those names…ugh)

I thought back to my youth, where some of my classmates didn’t really have names, just initials. There was C.R., and R.J., and J.D. I thought that was very cool, and other kids did too. I probably could’ve been C.R. (No, I’m not sharing my middle name), but since C.R. was already taken, I decided to cut my full name of Caroline short and have my friends call me “Carol.”

Just Carol…so back then, my name was Carol Coley. You could almost say it as one word. It gives me hives just to think of it. My mother had the foresight to tell me that one day I would go back to Caroline. She was a smart woman.

Caroline, however, is pronounced like Carolyn. So, people who know me pronounce it correctly. My mother was very Kennedy-esque, since her name was Jacqueline (and called Jackie later in her life), so I never asked her why it was spelled one way and pronounced the other. Since I changed it, waywayway back, like post-college, Caroline has been paired with practically a lifetime of pronunciation corrections. When you add either my maiden or married name to it, there have been some very creative, fun spellings and interpretations:

Cardine – when someone thought the “o” and the “l” was a “d.”

Carololine Cooley – Truth! Last name is a common misspelling. This was also a favorite on Junk Mail envelopes

Carly Stainstreet – Ha! Everyone likes to switch the “n” and the “i”

Many of my friends have – shall I call them – “normal” names? But – they too have returned to the Land of Formality. My friend Sue is back to Susan, which is what she was always called in her household. Becky is Rebecca, Cindy is Cynthia – and so on.

The names of my past were pretty easy – although my mother would often mention that people would change their children’s names to make them unique or in her descriptive word,”cutsie.” For example:

Adding “e”‘s at the end of names, like Anne and Lynne, or removing a letter, like Elliot instead of Elliott.

Kathy – would change to Kathi or Kathie (When growing up, there were lots of Kathys – I knew a Nice Kathy and a Mean Kathy, just as an aside). Debbie was Debby, Debbi or even Debi – my mother would deliberately pronounce the names ending in “i” like “eye” – resulting in “Deb-eye.” Also, my boss’ wife was named “Carole” so Mom would say, “I recently saw Ca-Role With An ‘E‘!”

Gosh, I truly miss her sense of humor.

There are so many nicknames for Elizabeth (sometimes spelled Elisabeth, or Lizbeth), like Liz, Eliza, Liza, Lisa, Beth, Ellie, and more non-traditional nicknames, including “Buffy” (remember the 1960’s TV show “Family Affair?”) and also Tibbi – a friend from high school. As for boys names, our son Sean has the traditional Gaelic spelling, but there is also Shawn and Shaun, and in the past couple of decades, letters have been added – like college football player Tashawn Manning, and NFL player Deshaun Watson, whose first name is really Derrick. As for my mom, well, she thought there was a place for certain nicknames, but wasn’t having any of that in our household.

Today’s names have fluctuated from trendy to traditional. During my twenties, no one in their right mind would have ever thought of naming their daughters Madison – but if you saw the 1984 movie “Splash,” you’ll know why (Tom Hanks jested, “Madison’s not a name!”). But it’s incredibly popular now. The traditional names are currently “hot” – with what my mom would also refer to as “biblical names” – Jonah, Elijah, Jacob, Mary, and names of our ancestors – Charles, Anthony, Olivia, Noah, Emily, Lucas, Melissa, Henry, and even Hazel (another 60’s TV show).

If you had the chance to alter your name or re-name yourself, or your children, would you? Or do you perceive yourself just the way you were named? And here’s another question – do people “look” like a Kevin, a Kelly, or – dare I say it – a Karen?!! I always thought if I had taken the big leap to change from Caroline to Carolyn, my mother would’ve given me the dreaded “stink eye.”

I’m grateful that I’m here to even ponder these silly questions about names. But it’s kind of a fun thing to think about, especially when you miss your mom and you can’t sleep.

So sleep well, my friends, even if my mom would’ve thought you had a “cutsie” name.

🙂

2022 is here, and as the late, great Karen Carpenter once sang, “we’ve only just begun!”

As a self-proclaimed pool regular, I know that the beginning of my annual “January Plan” remains the same, which involves swimming, cutting out alcohol (yes, and for a whole month!) and eliminating sugar – as best I can. 

It seems that every January brings some laughs for me while I’m at the pool, while I’m doing my thing.  

Perhaps the same thing happens at your gym or fitness club. 

So, what is the thing I’m referring to? Well, the “things” are actually people. And you know exactly who they are…..

“They” are….

The New Year’s Resolution Workout Warriors!! (Run – RUN for your lives!!)

Let’s call them WWs for short, kind of like how Oprah changed Weight Watchers.

You know them, they are the set of folks who join the gym (or pool) in an attempt to miraculously transform themselves from “fat to flat” in a short amount of time. They wear their brand new sneakers (I still cannot call them athletic shoes), and fancy, colorful attire (Lululemon comes to mind). The subset of WW swimmers have new suits and expensive swim goggles which they don’t know how to adjust (some are tricky, admittedly). They want to own the place with their 3-month memberships, yet they wreak havoc in the pool and with the fitness equipment.  

Wait a minute – am I being too snarky or harsh? 

They cram the pool lanes, refuse to share a lane, and if they do, they take their half out of the middle.  They won’t return a kick board to the rack, figuring it’s the lifeguard’s job to do.  Whatever they tried to do with the “white foam thingy,” (it’s called a pull buoy), there it is, untouched at the end of the lane, waiting to go back to the bin with the others.  Thanks, lifeguards, you get to put up with the WWs too.

Ugh!

If it’s a fitness center we are talking about, the WWs don’t exactly bring any etiquette there either. Or perhaps they just don’t know how to use the equipment (see below). If it’s a 20-minute walk on the treadmill, a 10-minute spin, or a “session” with the free weights, they don’t spray and wipe off the rails, bars, or seats.  YUCK!

So – what can be done? Just laugh. Then laugh some more. After all, the WW’s will quit in 3 weeks, or reduce their visits significantly, only to invade your space next year. 

Happy New Year to all – and watch out for the WWs!!