I’ll be up front with you: You won’t linger here long. Today’s email has a bunch of links to a bunch of other dare-I-say decent writing I’ve done in the past week or so. Some here, some there, and some about Star Wars.
First and foremost, my friend Shannon Evans very kindly gave me the keys to her Substack this week. I wrote about swim lessons and eye contact and God. You can read the first few paragraphs below, but then I’d encourage you to click through to read the rest and check out Shannon’s quite excellent Substack, “The Rewilded Life.”
There are also some reflections on Star Wars—how and I why Ahsoka is my daughters’ favorite character—Star Trek—why the Ignatian examen is somehow essential to the latest season of Strange New World—and my recent trip to Lisbon, Portugal, where I participated in what I think isn’t wrong to describe as a Jesuit jamboree.
But first…
We arrived at the Y for swim lessons, my three-year-old and I, as we usually do: Elsa towel over one shoulder, sunflower goggles held tightly, the squeak squeak squeak of those slightly-too-big flip flops serenading us as she marched through every poolside puddle possible.
The place was packed, as it often is on a Monday afternoon. Kids splashing, parents watching and real swimmers somehow managing to do laps through the water and sound and chaos.
My daughter and I wandered over to the far side of the pool, the literal deep end, and sat ourselves down on one of the benches to wait.
“I don’t see my teacher,” she said to me.
I shrugged, struggling with her goggles. “I’m sure someone will show up.”
We sat there, her little legs swinging, my less-than-little-legs sweating, and we watched as not a single soul from her class appeared. And the clock struck 4:10 PM Eastern.
Finally, someone showed up—and she looked legit. She was wearing the official Y swimsuit, walked over to us with confidence, and was definitely not one of the high school students we’d come to expect.
As it turned out, she was the regional director of swim lessons. Or, something like that. And she was my daughter’s swim sub.
One of us, though, was not so pleased.
More links, as promised: