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 In the old days, they taught a boy to swim by tossing him into a lake and
telling him he was on his own. Well, that actually happened to me. Dad
took a weekend job with a crew to float a barge sunk in the Pearl River. I
was with him and stood on shore watching. When the barge surfaced, and
the men tied it off, Dad walked casually over to where I stood, picked me up
and tossed me in the river. Then, he sat down on a log and lit up a smoke. To
a six-year-old, the Pearl was a damned big river and no doubt teeming with
sharp-toothed and needle-fanged monsters. I panicked, of course, wailed
and screamed like a banshee, but Dad pretended he didn’t notice. I
beat the surface of the water, clawed at the sky and begged God or anyone to
save me. No good. Finally, I realized no one would come to get
me. I was on my own in that river, so I gave up and started swimming. Somehow,
I flailed and kicked and fought until I crawled ashore soaked and covered with
muddy slime.
- His father’s method for teaching a six-year old to swim would be considered
emotionally abusive by today’s standards. It is also a good example
of the caregiver-perpetrated stressor that can predispose an individual to
the development of posttraumatic stress disorder if exposed to a traumatic
stressor later in life.
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