A tale of big fish, wardrobe malfunctions, and a boy becoming a man
Dearest friends and family,
As each of you has in some way played a part in creating the extraordinary creature that is Patrick Murphy, I'd like to share a tale of our recent adventures in Florida with you.
A highlight of our recent visit to Florida was an all day boat/snorkeling trip off Key Biscayne in Miami. After a ride that is only remarkable in its uneventful-ness (and for those of you who know Larry that is saying something) to Miami, we put Sue and Larry's as yet unnamed boat into the water. We set off to find "the lighthouse" that existed solidly in Sue and Larry's memory, but proved a bit more difficult to find in real life. After Larry and John did a bit of "fishing" that would make any PETA-member proud, we finally found our destination, a beautiful old lighthouse which although at sea, sat smack dab in the middle of a coral reef.
A bundle of reckless enthusiasm, John, who had never been snorkeling before, was first to gear up and jump in. In a flash he was off, getting that mesmerizing first look at the world that exists under the boat. Larry was next off the boat, and after much trading and compromising we finally found enough snorkels, masks and fins for the rest of us (but not without Kelli squeezing her ballerina feet into fins that were 3 sizes too small, and me wearing Sue's diving fins). For those of you who don't know, unlike lightweight, porous snorkeling fins, meant to help you stay on top of the water, diving fins are heavy, solid rubber and akin to wearing large flat bricks on your feet. In order to keep from sinking straight to the bottom, I was thrown a small, bright orange, floatable cushion that I positioned just under my ample, ummm . . . lungs. The pillow seemed like a good idea until, after swimming around a bit and noticing I was drawing some attention from nearby boaters, Sue informed me I had exposed my ample lungs.
Emma was placed on a "boogie board" which gave her some sense of security and taken out to view the fishies by her able Aunt Sue. To be safe, we buddied up: John with someone we thought was Larry, until we discovered it really wasn't Larry at all, then eventually with the real Larry, Kelli and Sue (and Emma), me and Patrick. All was practically perfect in paradise until someone discovered the boat was adrift.
Larry and John were off having fun somewhere (which believe me they paid for later), so Sue slipped me the Emma float and swam off to save the boat. That would have been fine, but with bricks on my feet and a pillow under my lungs Emma and I were also basically adrift. Eventually, boat secure, Sue returned to save us. I decided I'd be better off with no fins at all, so Sue swam under and removed them for me and handed me the boat's towrope to hold onto. She then went to safer waters with Emma (the towrope had a mind of its own, which was strangely in sync with the current pulling us out into open water). Patrick stayed with me, as by this time all the appropriately wardrobed swimmers were over in safe water near the lighthouse.
Patrick and I continued to watch the fishies out near the boat - until Patrick, snorkel in mouth, started pointing frantically. I pointed, smiled and waved as I always do, pretending I saw what he saw, but then his pointing got pointier. Finally, I turned and saw what he saw, a 2 1/2 ft fish who was circling us at our level. That was about the time I discovered I really only like looking at the fishies when they aren't looking at me. Since this fish was more interested in us than we were in him, and he was ugly, but not exactly barracuda ugly, I quickly surmised he was a shark. When he appeared to be everywhere I looked, or maybe he invited friends, and eventually got between me and the boat, I panicked and let go of the rope.
That's when I discovered the true purpose of fins and that without them, and with my safety cushion acting as a big brake, I had no power against the current that was quickly pulling me out to sea.
Without a thought of saving himself, which I wish I could also say for myself, Patrick held out his hand to me. Next thing I know my son, my hero, was swimming me 30 feet back to the boat against the current. Not only did he swim me back, he lifted me up onto the dive platform (no small feat there). Finally, safely in the boat, recovering composure, and out of breath, he had the presence to say "Mom, cover yourself".
It was a proud moment for all.
PS: As I have never been honored with having a boat (or even a boat sculpture) named after ME (!) I'd like to suggest The Good Ship Patrick as a perfect name for Sue and Larry's boat.
PPS:
Safely back home, we discovered the "shark" was actually a remora - a fish that only eats the stuff off real sharks and is naturally curious. We also got pictures back recently - and yes, my lungs are exposed.
All of our love,
Linda, Patrick and Emma
