A Glove for Asymmetry

I swam competitively as a kid. We drove all over the state of Iowa in the summer. It was hot. I remember teammates and competitors eating raw Jell-O in the shade as they’d wait their event, one bright red finger going back and forth from box to mouth. (This might have been pre-Fun Dip.) Somewhere at a swim meet (Cedar Rapids?) my parents got me a t-shirt. It said INSTANT SWIMMER on the front and on the back it said JUST ADD WATER. I thought it was super cool until I wore it at school and other kids were like, “What about spit?”

But I digress.

In high school boys swimming is a winter sport. So it was cold and dark when practice started in the morning and again at night when it ended. Your hair froze going from the locker room to the car. Haircicles. And Jell-O packs were no longer a thing. Parents took turns coming in at the end of morning practice with breakfast. Sometimes it was a huge cereal bar. Sometimes pancakes and sausages. Sometimes is was an ocean of Egg McMuffins.

But I wax nostalgic and digress again.

My dad would come upstairs in the morning and rouse me out of bed. I think he had a kind of giddy pride that his kid was an ‘athlete’.

“C’mon, Butch. Let’s go.”

And then 10 minutes later, his steps louder outside my door…