My Biggest Fear S. Cat Sept 22/03 My fear of the water, is not due to scary movies or books I've read. While I get chills hearing the *Jaws* soundtrack, I don't stay away from the water because of that song.   There are actually a couple of reasons. When I was younger, I loved to waterski, I thought nothing of spending my summer days, waterlogged for hours on end, enjoying the exhilaration of skimming across the waves, feeling the wind blowing in my face, my hair streaming out behind. A feeling of pure freedom, at one with the wind and waves, nothing felt better. I'm most comfortable when near the water, I get such a sense of peace and contentment. I'd hound family to come down to the dock and take me out for a spin around the islands. Luckily they love the water as much as I. While this area of what I call "Gawd's country" is pure enjoyment for skiing, I had the misfortune to travel with my cousin to another lake some distance away, near Peterborough. Our first day there, we all get in the boat and go out first for a spin, I noticed this lake wasn't clear and beautiful like Georgian Bay. You couldn't even swim very far, there was a very small roped off area, that was set up for people to swim. This lake was a mass of weeds, like the lake was being choked by them. As I'm not a very good swimmer, I decided then and there, I wouldn't bother to try skiing, I felt very nervous about this lake. The next day we again went out for a boat ride, and when we got out far enough, a few decided they wanted to ski, so I agreed to be the spotter. Everything went fine, they made a few trips around the lake and had no problems. Then someone decided, that I should try my hand at skiing, I protested and told them I didn't feel comfortable. As I didn't know this group of people real well, they were all friends of my cousin, I hoped they would listen and accept my plea to stay in the boat. Unfortunately, one thought it would be funny to toss me overboard with the skis and let me try my hand at it. Before anyone could react I was picked up and tossed overboard. Needless to say, I went down, way down as they had tossed hard and I got tangled in the weeds. I struggled and twisted in vain, panic set in, the more I tried to free myself, the more I got tangled. My chest wall felt like it was going to burst, I was running out of breath as I hadn't been given much of a chance to take a deep one, before being tossed in. Two of the people on the boat, realized what had happened and they jumped in and managed to cut me free. It wasn't a very long time I was caught, but when you're panic-striken, seconds seem like minutes and minutes like hours. The person that caused this, felt very badly, apologized profusely, realizing this could so easily have ended in tragedy. While I forgave them for their thoughtlessness, I can't forget that I no longer ski, I refuse to go in the lake, except to wade near the shoreline. My pleasure was stripped away from me, by a thoughtless moment. While I can swim in a pool and have no fear of the water, I'll always have a fear of swimming in lakes. As I mentioned, I feared lakes, sooooo.... We had travelled to Florida, specifically the western coast, some islands off St. Petes. The weather was bad, for the first couple of days, and the wind caused the waves to wash so much sand up on the beach that what was once 12 steps down to the beach, now became 3 as the rest of the steps were now buried. I'd walk the shoreline, feeling the wind blowing, calming my spirit, a sense of peace. I hadn't been near an ocean in many years and I was thrilled to smell the sea and watch the endless waves pounding the shore. A short walk up the beach from the cottage, there was this gigantic pier, jutting out, it seemed like miles into the Gulf. I wandered along the pier, watching the people catching fish, some were so large, I didn't know how they could possibly reel them in. After all, I'm used to the fish they catch in northern lakes, not these monsters they were catching off the docks here. I watched in fascination one being lifted out of the water. Amazed at the size, the fish from top to bottom was very large, but looking at it straight on, it was extremely thin, the gills large and ruffled, it almost looked like crimson velvet, layer upon layer. All the fish that they advertised could be caught off the dock, seemed large but fairly harmless. The next day, the weather cleared and I decided to venture out into the warm waters of the Gulf. It wasn't a lake, so I thought maybe, just maybe, swimming here, might help me get over my fear. Just a short bit out, in less then 4 feet of water, there are posts, so I decided I'd go as far as this and no further. As I was floating around near the posts, a young girl came by on an inflatable raft. We chatted for a few moments, and then she asked if I'd stay out in the water with her. I saw no reason not to, so I readily agreed. I was within a very short distance to shore, a smooth sandy bottom and the water translucent. It was sheer heaven, floating around, feeling the buoyancy of being in salt water. I kept fairly close to the marker in the water and occassionally would clutch it, just letting my body drift upwards, swaying in the waves. The young girl turned to me and said, "maybe you shouldn't stay so close to that marker". "Why not, " I inquired. She proceeded to tell me that a few days prior to my arrival, a man was out in the water, at this very marker when a shark came after him. The answer chilled me. I grabbed that kids raft and I don't think I've ever managed to swim to shore so fast in my life, dragging her and the raft along with me. I literally flew into shore and I refuse to set foot in another ocean. I didn't realize I was in the sharks dinner table range, as I mistakenly thought they would be much farther out. The fishing business, run off that dock, didn't advertise it, but sharks were often caught off that pier. Give me a pool, please!!!