In the depths of my memory, many things I did with my father still live.
In
the
depths
of
my
memory
,
many
things
I
did
with
my
father
still
live
.
These things come to represent, in fact, what I call joy and love.
These
things
come
to
represent
,
in
fact
,
what
I
call
joy
and
love
.
I don't remember my father ever getting into a swimming pool.
I
do
n't
remember
my
father
ever
getting
into
a
swimming
pool
.
But he did love the water.
But
he
did
love
the
water
.
Any kind of boat ride seemed to give him pleasure.
Any
kind
of
boat
ride
seemed
to
give
him
pleasure
.
And he loved to fish; sometimes he took me along.
And
he
loved
to
fish
;
sometimes
he
took
me
along
.
But I never really liked being on the water, the way my father did.
But
I
never
really
liked
being
on
the
water
,
the
way
my
father
did
.
I liked being in the water, moving through it, having it all around me.
I
liked
being
in
the
water
,
moving
through
it
,
having
it
all
around
me
.
I was not a strong swimmer, or one who learned to swim early, for I had my fears.
I
was
not
a
strong
swimmer
,
or
one
who
learned
to
swim
early
,
for
I
had
my
fears
.
But I loved being in the swimming pool close to my father's office and spending those summer days with my father, who would come by on a break.
But
I
loved
being
in
the
swimming
pool
close
to
my
father
's
office
and
spending
those
summer
days
with
my
father
,
who
would
come
by
on
a
break
.
I needed him to see what I could do.
I
needed
him
to
see
what
I
could
do
.
My father would stand there in his suit, the only person not in swimsuit.
My
father
would
stand
there
in
his
suit
,
the
only
person
not
in
swimsuit
.
After swimming, I would go inside his office and sit on the wooden chair in front of his big desk, where he let me play with anything I found in his top desk drawer.
After
swimming
,
I
would
go
inside
his
office
and
sit
on
the
wooden
chair
in
front
of
his
big
desk
,
where
he
let
me
play
with
anything
I
found
in
his
top
desk
drawer
.
Sometimes, if I was left alone at his desk while he worked in the lab, an assistant or a student might come in and tell me perhaps I shouldn't be playing with his office things.
Sometimes
,
if
I
was
left
alone
at
his
desk
while
he
worked
in
the
lab
,
an
assistant
or
a
student
might
come
in
and
tell
me
perhaps
I
should
n't
be
playing
with
his
office
things
.
But my father always showed up and said easily, "Oh, no, it's fine."
But
my
father
always
showed
up
and
said
easily
,
``
Oh
,
no
,
it
's
fine
.
''
Sometimes he handed me coins and told me to get myself an ice cream ...
Sometimes
he
handed
me
coins
and
told
me
to
get
myself
an
ice
cream
...
A poet once said, "We look at life once, in childhood; the rest is memory."
A
poet
once
said
,
``
We
look
at
life
once
,
in
childhood
;
the
rest
is
memory
.
''
And I think it is not only what we "look at once, in childhood" that decides our memories, but who, in that childhood, looks at us.
And
I
think
it
is
not
only
what
we
``
look
at
once
,
in
childhood
''
that
decides
our
memories
,
but
who
,
in
that
childhood
,
looks
at
us
.
In the depths of my memory, many things I did with my father still live. These things come to represent, in fact, what I call joy and love.  I don't remember my father ever getting into a swimming pool. But he did love the water. Any kind of boat ride seemed to give him pleasure. And he loved to fish; sometimes he took me along.  But I never really liked being on the water, the way my father did. I liked being in the water, moving through it, having it all around me. I was not a strong swimmer, or one who learned to swim early, for I had my fears. But I loved being in the swimming pool close to my father's office and spending those summer days with my father, who would come by on a break. I needed him to see what I could do. My father would stand there in his suit, the only person not in swimsuit.  After swimming, I would go inside his office and sit on the wooden chair in front of his big desk, where he let me play with anything I found in his top desk drawer. Sometimes, if I was left alone at his desk while he worked in the lab, an assistant or a student might come in and tell me perhaps I shouldn't be playing with his office things. But my father always showed up and said easily, "Oh, no, it's fine." Sometimes he handed me coins and told me to get myself an ice cream ...  A poet once said, "We look at life once, in childhood; the rest is memory." And I think it is not only what we "look at once, in childhood" that decides our memories, but who, in that childhood, looks at us.