When I was a boy my dad had this signature whistle that he’d use to call my brother and I in for dinner. It was so loud that, it seemed like, no matter where we were in town, we could hear it. I remember asking him one day how he did it. He proceeded to tell me it took a lot of practice. I remember watching him closely as his tongue squished up, got real fat, an odd crease when through the middle of it and he piped three little whistles through the hole that was left between his lips, “Peep! Peep! Peep!”
“No hands?” I asked, he just smiled and shook his head as he whistled again, “Peep! Peep! Peep!”
I practiced for hours and days. Any moment I could I’d practice. I’d squish up my tongue; look at it in the mirror, force a crease and blow. Until one day, it finally happened. It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t much of anything but a sound did come out and with a little refining I had found my whistle. It never felt quite as loud as Dads but it was happening. He, of course was the first to know.
I never quite put my whistle to use the way my dad did. The occasional whistle at a rock concert or ball game, perhaps showing off to friend down the street as an attempt to embarrass them.
Two weeks ago my dad took the entire family to one of the most beautiful places on earth. Kauai. He loves bringing the family together in beautiful places so we can appreciate God’s beauty and spend quality time all together as one big extended family.
This spot was amazing, a house on the beach. The only thing between the house and the ocean was a patch of grass and a hot tub. It truly was paradise.
I personally was looking forward to this break, to appreciate my family, put my iPhone away for a while and only worry about what food I was going to eat that day or how much sun block I need to put on.
On the afternoon of the third day in paradise I still was not relaxed. I was fed. I was lathered with SPF 60 but I still was not in “vacation mode.” My dad, my 3 year old son and I were lounging in hot tub between the house and water. Someone had turned it up to 103 degrees so we weren’t all the way in it. We were sitting on the edge with only our feet in, sweating. Enjoying silence.
I remember taking one glance at the ocean and thinking, “I can totally hop in that beautiful ocean, cool off, and be back in this same spot doing nothing, in about 90 seconds.” and that’s exactly what I did. I don’t even think I said a thing to my son or my dad. I just hoped out of the sweltering hot tub and walked straight to the water. I remember it feeling good to just walk away and not feel the need to check in with anybody, ask permission or post about it on facebook. It was this feeling of freedom. Perhaps this is just what I needed to get into the vacation mode.
Directly in front of our house was a coral reef so I walked right around the bend. The ocean was deeper here, the waves were big enough to body surf but crashing right on the shore so catching a wave meant a lot of sand in your shorts. I jumped through a big swell and swam out just far enough to be away from the white water.
Ahhh… paradise… It felt awesome.
The water was perfect, just cool enough to be refreshing. The waves were a little big, but nothing I couldn’t handle. As I treaded water a bit I saw a wave with a little white water on it and thought I might be able to body surf it. That did not work. Instead the white cap slapped me in the face like it was saying, “Do you know who your messin with, Cali boy?” I shook it off.
Not long after my slap I remember thinking, that’s probably enough refreshment for one dip its time to head back to that hot tub for more… nothing.
With my head down I took a few breast stroked toward land, attempting to ride the waves rolling in. I swam for about 30 seconds, looked up at shore and saw no change in where I started. “Wow, I am outta shape.” was my first thought.
I shrugged it off and went for another attempt, head down, stroked my hands a few times, 30 seconds more and an attempt to ride in another wave, I looked up.
Still no change in where I was.
Now… I’m winded. A great time for another white cap to slap me in the face, give me a mouthful of salt water and say, “You’re still here, Cali boy?”
I’m still for a moment. Out of breath but enough in me to try again without hesitation. I put my head down and… stroke, stroke, stroke.
My strokes get stronger when a wave comes up as if, again it may help me get to shore but… it passes by me with ease, I stay in the same place as if I were chained to the sea floor.
Now, I’m panting. Now, I’m stuck.
Another white cap attempts to slap me in face but I dodge it this time. Like a boxer getting pummeled in the ring with one last move. That knock out punch missed me, but I’m swaying, I’m seeing stars and my competitor knows it.
This was the first time I felt it. Call it butterflies. Call it panic. Call it a moment of clarity. I’m in trouble. I’m in a lot of trouble. And as always, my stomach let me know first.
I pictured my son in the hot tub 30 yards away with my dad, my wife taking a nap with my daughter. I felt embarrassed that I was here. I felt sad. I felt stupid. I balanced the feelings of clarity and panic that wanted to soak in and take over my thoughts, and take away my precious breath.
They say your life passes before your eyes in moments like this. I guess that’s what happened to me.
I saw my beautiful kids, my amazing wife, I saw myself as child klutzy, uncoordinated. I saw the little things I did that were dumb and embarrassing. I saw this is my final dumbest move of them all.
Dying on a vacation in paradise, what an idiot.
I saw the post on the beach with a safety buoy on it. If only I could reach.
I saw myself wanting to fix this situation, wanting to go back to that hot tub so bad and not have to tell anyone what I got myself into.
Wondering instead, if it will be someone else telling them what they think happened to me.
I saw myself as a nervous kid in school with butterflies in his stomach during role call, I hated raising my hand and saying “Here.” I hated hearing my name yelled out by the teacher and wondering if she was going to call me Bently or Brandon.
I saw my dad showing me how to whistle.
His fat tongue with that weird crease down the middle.
As if queued by God, a couple on the beach 20 yards away, got up from their blanket and begin to walk around the corner.
My last hope. All butterflies, all embarrassment, all pride aside I had a choice to make. Use up precious breath to get their attention or keep doing what was doing.
I fattened my tongue forced a crease, wondered if my whistle could ever be as loud as my dad’s, wondering if I actually had enough breath to try. I let out a peep.
“Peep.”
The couple stopped.
I let out two more peeps back to back, with all the breath I had left.
“Peep. Peep.”
Then my hand went up like a kid in school, it went way, way up. Higher than it ever had in any class I ever took.
The man turned around took two steps towards me held up his hands and said quietly, “Are you serious?” he didn’t yell it, he spoke it, and I heard it.
I collected one more “peep” stretched my arm as high is it would go and he ran into the water and began to swim towards me.
At this point all I could think was, “ I hope I didn’t just kill this guy, I hope he knows what he is doing.”
I then lay on my back, puffed up my chest began to sing an old church hymn “Stop fighting the current.” I heard. “Stop fighting.” And I did.
10 seconds later my feet were on coral and I stood up.
The man, a few feet in front of me had just gotten there, too. I was panting and he asked if I was okay.
I was embarrassed. I was out of breath. I was alive.
We walked towards the shore together, I thanked him 100 hundred times. His willingness to help me, gave me hope. It gave me the calm to lay back, be wrong and allowed me to hear it, “Stop fighting.”
As we stood together on the shore staring at the current he told me he comes here all the time to spear fish. It’s one of the strongest currents around. “It’s a good day for you.” He said.
I shook his hand. And walked humbly back the house.
I guess you can say my “vacation mode” came after that. But not in the way I ever expected it, too. Surprisingly I wasn’t exhilarated, if this were a movie, the character playing me would garner a huge smile, celebrate his second chance at life and throw a party.
The reality was, I felt like I had an open wound that sensed every thing around me. Every touch was tender, every light breeze was cool, and this wound ached while I walked but only as a reminder to me of every part of me that wasn’t injured. The beautiful eyes and lips of my wife, the sound of my sons laugh, my daughters newly formed words, the luxury of our everyday life.
I’ll never forget what happened to me that day in paradise, the man that ran after me, the whistle that was louder than my dads, the words that calmed me, “Stop fighting.” All at one of the prettiest beaches and on one of the most beautiful islands in the world, 30 yards away from the most amazing family I ever could have left.
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