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I was probably about 3 or 4 years old. We lived in South Florida and my Dad and I were going into my grandfather's pool. When we got to poolside, my dad had to use the restroom and sternly admonished me "Don't go in the pool until I come back".

Well, you see, I was going to be a "big boy". I didn't need my daddy to watch me while I went in the pool!

So I eased my way over the edge and into the pool, let go of the wall, and immediately began to drown. The panic and helplessness was the strangest sensation I've ever felt.

As I was beginning to be resigned to my fate, suddenly a strong arm—my father's—plunged into the water, grabbed one of my flailing limbs, and yanked me out of the pool to safety. Another 30 seconds and I probably would have been dead.

What I had experienced was punishment enough. I believe the lesson was something along the lines of: "If you don't know how to swim, don't go swimming."

"Drowning is the leading cause of injury death among children ages 1–4 in Florida. Florida's drowning death rate among children ages 1–4 is the highest in the nation."

If I had died that day, I would have been the second consecutive child that my father lost at that house. A couple of years before I was born—in a front yard full of adults—a 2 year old who would have been my older brother was struck and killed by an automobile when he tried to cross the street after a neighborhood boy waved to him...