Five Years Ago

I jumped into the pool three stories below the corner of 24^th and Lexington, and before I finished the first length, it came back to me: I really love to swim. I love the feeling of the cool water flowing over my body as I glide through it from one end to the other, the buoyancy of the water holding me up, even the smell of chlorine. It all just felt so right. That was December 30, 2004, exactly five years ago, and I am not exaggerating to say that day—that moment—changed my life.

I had known about Team New York Aquatics (TNYA) for years, having seen them in Gay Pride marches mainly. A combination of factors helped me to finally screw up my courage to give it a try that day: After many years of inactivity, I had been working out at a gym for a year, so I was in decent enough shape; at the same time, I had grown bored with the gym, and was looking for a way to vary my exercise routine; and I had had a conversation the week before with a stranger at a party who swam for another swim team, which somehow made the whole “masters swimming” thing feel a little more approachable for me.

That first day, though, I was nervous—not so much about swimming but about showing up and joining a group of strangers. And in a swimsuit, no less. But TNYA’s web site said they welcomed new members anytime; all I had to do was arrive a little early the first time. What I found was a group of people, most of whom didn’t seem to notice me, but enough of whom said hello that I felt welcome.

The pool was divided by speed, just like the team I had swum on briefly as a teen, so I found my way to the slowest lane. The water was both exhilarating and calming. I soon remembered how to count by 25s, the order of an individual medley, even how to swim butterfly. The coach kept giving us more sets, and I kept swimming. I managed to stay in for the full 90-minute practice, and was amazed to have swum 2,800 meters. I was completely exhausted. And I was hooked.

I went again the next week, and signed up for two practices a week, figuring I could go to the gym two or three times a week and swim twice. Pretty soon, though, I felt like twice a week was not enough, and before long I was swimming three, four, sometimes five times a week. The gym fell off the schedule (I’ll get back soon, really I will).

There is almost always a group of people going out for dinner after practice, and TNYA has become the center of my social life. Partly that’s because it’s where I am most weekday evenings; partly it’s because on the whole, swimmers are smart, interesting people. Mostly it’s because I feel like I belong there, in a way that I don’t feel anywhere else.

After five years on the team, being a swimmer has become a central part of my self-image. Before I joined, I didn’t understand people who were so committed to working out. Now, if I don’t swim for a few days in a row, I get anxious, even depressed. At 40, I am in much better shape than I was at 20, or at any time in my life. But more important than that, becoming a swimmer has changed the way I think of myself. I was never a jock before. Like many gay kids, high school gym class was a nightmare for me. I wasn’t good at any sports; I didn’t have any interest in watching sports. I swam on a city team for a while, and I was briefly on my high school rowing team, but left both because I didn’t fit in with the macho jock culture. For me, being on a gay team makes it possible for me to be a part of group athletics, and to enjoy it, for the first time in my life, and I love it.

And that feeling I had on the first day comes back to me every time I get in the pool.

The Nobel Peace Prize

I've been thinking a lot about the Nobel Peace Prize going to President Obama, and getting a little pissed off by the many criticisms coming from the left. Here's the way I see it: Barack Obama almost singlehandedly turned the most powerful country in the world from a big dumb bully to a thoughtful member of the international community.

After seven years of a "war on terror" that looked an awful lot like a war on Islam, he went to Cairo and made a big public effort to engage the Muslims of the world rather than alienate them.

Breaking from the previous regime's simplistic and damaging approach of "with us or against us," he has pledged to negotiate with those who disagree with us, like the current government of Iran, rather than going for the guns at the first opportunity.

He has publicly stated that he wants to live in a world without nuclear weapons!

To me, it comes down to this: Arguably the most powerful person in the world has consistently refused to simply throw around the weight of the United States' money and military, and instead has insisted on negotiation and engagement. He has chosen to manage conflicts peacefully. So yeah, I think he deserves the respect of the world for that.

I've been repeating this to myself and to my friends for the last few days. And then I had a realization: President Obama has been doing the same thing domestically, and I've been criticizing him for it.

I am really upset about how most of the domestic policy issues have turned out since January. The stimulus package was way too small, so now we're likely to have years of high unemployment, which means huge suffering for millions of people. Whatever health care reform eventually gets passed will probably not include a public option and will probably still leave millions of people uninsured. Don't Ask Don't Tell and the Defense of Marriage Act are still the law of the land, with no end in sight.

All of these shortcomings are the result of concessions to the right-wing minority in Congress, largely because of ridiculous rules in the Senate that mean we can't really do anything without 60 votes, which we don't quite have. Don't get me wrong: this pisses me off, and I stand by my anger at the Republican and "moderate" Democratic lawmakers who put corporate profits and bigotry ahead of fairness and compassion at every opportunity. But I have also been upset with the president and the rest of the Democratic leadership for hesitating to throw their power around as much as I would have liked. We won the election, and we won big, so we should be able to do what we want, right?

Well, maybe not. Didn't I just say that I think President Obama deserves the Nobel Peace Prize for refusing to simply use his (our) power as he sees fit, and instead engaging with the rest of the world? I really do believe that searching for commonalities and treating people with respect, even when they're acting hatefully, is the peaceful way to manage conflict. If that's the right way to deal with Ahmadinejad, maybe it's the right way to deal with the GOP too.

I still believe that he has let down LGBT people by refusing to put our rights on the agenda. And I still believe that he could be pushing harder for better health care and better economic policies. But maybe I'll ease up on his tactics for a while.

Shalom aleichem

As-salaam aleikum

Purim

I've never been a big fan of Purim. Although I'm a big fan of cookies and drinking, the two pillars of Purim celebration, the story that goes along with the revelry has never sat well with me. Today I re-read said story, the Book of Esther. In many ways, the Purim story follows the standard template of Jewish holidays: Bad guys tried to kill off the Jews; through our wits and strength and the intervention of G-d, we were not annihilated; let's eat! In this case, the bad guy, Haman, literally wanted to kill off all the Jews in the empire, i.e., genocide, mainly so that he and his people could take our money and stuff. Not nice.

But here's where the story loses me. After the lovely Queen Esther and her cousin Mordechai foil the evil Haman's plans, what do they do? Well, with the help of the king, they turn it around on him, killing Haman, his ten sons, and 75,000 other people! Now I know this is fiction, but I refuse to celebrate collective punishment and mass murder. While the story rubbed me the wrong way from the first time I heard it, it is especially troubling to me now, because it seems so much like what Jews did so recently in Gaza, with similar rationale. So count me out.

Instead, my observance of Purim consisted of making a donation to Human Rights Watch, my former employer, in honor of Alison Des Forges, who was killed in a plane crash a few weeks ago. I only met Alison a couple of times, but she was legendary for her tenacity in documenting the horrors of the Rwandan genocide, so it seemed fitting to me to honor her on this day.