Hubris. Such a strange word. Like a mashup of a WASP first name, and a Jewish penis-snipping ceremony that sanctifies a covenant with G-d.
Hubris relates to that innate human tendency to presume we know too much. The Greeks covered this one pretty well with the Icarus myth, and it’s a story continues to be retold through time. (Even by the future giant hairless rats, I’m sure.)
I mention it because it’s the first full week of 2014, and I’ve already found myself in a spot of bother. Totally preventable, of course.
Though I’m sitting at home by the fire, just yesterday, I found myself swimming beside my wife in the steel gray Caribbean Sea. It was no form of azure, as storms had been about all week. The waves were so big the surfers were out, and they’re about as common on the Mayan Riviera as Mafiosi rats. (Another type of giant mostly-hairless rodent.)
There we were, Jessie and I, in the empty ocean. The sky was gray like silver is gray. Or fire smoke. Or hair on an old man’s chest.
The air temperature matched the sea, so it was lovely out there. The shore was so-much-less-compelling to view than the undulating ripples, so I turned away from land. The water shimmered geometrically on every surface as the waves rolled, like perfect fractals of ocean-y goodness.
So beautiful, I thought. So beautiful. I was at peace.
I swam towards the open water. Just a bit, it seemed; seduced by sirens bearing peach margaritas. I floated on my back and lost myself for a minute or two, staring up at those 57 shades of gray.
Finally, I looked back to shore. Jessie was about forty yards closer than I, but we were both further out than I’d ever swam.
Dangerously far, in these conditions. I caught a breath, and noticed the current was actively taking us out to sea.
I high-tailed it in, varying strokes, swimming hard, and barely made a dent in the distance. We yelled to each other, time to get out of here, but ocean merely shrugged.
My folks were back at the apartment with my two kids. What would happen, I thought?
I was genuinely afraid.
I tried to keep calm, and swam as hard as I could, timing my strokes with the incoming waves. Fighting against the amoral current. Finally, I was able to grab hold of a floating rope. Jessie took the free safety’s angle, and met me at the same moment. I thought we were safe.
Then I looked up, and a huge wave was about to crash on our heads. “Dive,” I yelled. We went under, and felt the full force of fury. “Grab the rope,” I yelled. “It’s raking my neck,” she screamed, and she swam away.
After a few more minutes of walking through quicksand, finally, battered, we were ashore. Shaken. The adrenal glands, which fired again later that day at the abysmal #AmericanAirlines counter in Cancun Airport, have left a sour aftertaste with today’s morning coffee.
But my wife and I, thankfully, are none the worse for wear.
Just the day before, I was bragging to her how much experience I had in the water, from summer camps and growing up at the beach. I sounded like a younger, far less macho version of a Jewish Hemingway. (Too bad I hadn’t smoked one of the ubiquitous Cuban Cigars in his honor. Big ups to you, Papa.)
At night, driving home from the airport beneath the half-moon-black-night sky, she asked me if I’d ever been that scared in the ocean. “No,” I replied. Or at least not since the time I tried to body surf shore breakers in Sea Bright, and ended up with pebbles embedded in my forehead, on top of a nearly broken neck. (You can ask my cousin Daniel, if you don’t believe me.)
Do I have a point? It’s this. The New Year is upon us. Whether I ever meant to or not, I’ve turned this column into a space where you can expect to be entertained, and hopefully have your thoughts provoked. (Occasionally, I’ve been known to give unsolicited advice.) We all enjoy looking at the photo books, so don’t worry, the reviews will be back next week, in addition to the usual mix of interviews and travel articles.
But today’s thought is this: why not make a New Year’s resolution that challenges the core of who you are? Clearly, I need to work on my humility. So I’ll give it a try. Where are you weak? How can you strengthen those muscles?
Lastly, I’d like to acknowledge the obvious with our comment section. In 2013, after years of suffering insanely rude reactions to our hard work, we decided to moderate. As such, it’s become a much quieter place.
I’d like to suggest that collectively, we might find ways to use it as a public forum again. One with more behavior restrictions, I readily admit, but wasn’t that what most of us always longed for? Civil discourse?
If it’s possible to revive it as a viable resource for others, I’m willing to chip in. Best wishes, and Happy New Year! (Again with the exclamation points.)
5 Comments
Long time reader, long time lurker, first time commenter. Happy New Year and glad to hear you are still alive and well. Just wanted to first thank you for all the hard work you do here. Of all the blogs I subscribe to (and frankly I subscribe to too many to keep track of…) this is one of the few I always read. I also wanted to mention that, in terms of comments, maybe you can try what they did over at Strobist. Move the comments to Twitter. I think by having your actual name and your Twitter account visible for everything you say, the number of trolls may be cut down significantly? Just a thought. Mainly because I would think moderating would be just as time consuming as writing the articles.
Thanks again for all the time and effort you put into this!!
Thanks for the thoughts, Tim. We’ll have to see if there is any
support for creating dialogue here. It might just be that comment
sections are no longer relevant.
Glad to hear you’ll be keeping the comments section going, particularly when others have chosen to shut down.
As for challenging our very core… sounds good, but you know what they say about setting unrealistic goals- I’ll keep chipping away at the corners.
I want the names of the people who were mean to you!
Ah, but that was the problem. They were anonymous.
Comments are closed for this article!