I went to Coney Island last year and watched a large group of people go swimming on New Year’s Day — but I didn’t go in. I blogged that I might return and get wet in 2015, but the odds were against it. Subsequently, a few friends said they if I did go back they wanted to come with me. One of them — Nan, who is an unheralded photo-mixologist and former next-door neighbor — said she’d always wanted to swim with the polar bears. In a flash of poor judgment, I said that if she went in, I would too.

That was last spring, when warm weather makes such commitments easy. As summer passed, and fall gave way to the chill of winter, doubts started creeping in. I wasn’t the kind of person who went swimming in cold water. Hell, I’m not even much of a swimmer in warm water! Still, I’d committed and knew I would never hear the end of it if I backed out – even if everyone else did — which was pretty much what happened.

But Nan didn’t, and my wife Dixie said she’d go, but not swimming. Same for my daughter, Sarah, who’s plan was to sit up on the boardwalk with her mother, maybe enjoy a bloody Mary and watch as I made an fool of myself.

Here’s a little movie I made about the day’s outing:

Everything reminds me of something else

When I first waded into the water, it brought to mind Joseph Heller’s great book Catch 22. If you haven’t read it, go get a copy. It’s acclaimed by some as one of the twentieth century’s most significant literarily works.

The book follows bombardier John Yossarian and his fellow airmen, who are deployed on an island in the Mediterranean Sea during WWII. The book is filled with quirky characters and many events are told from varying points of view and unfold out of sequence. In other words, it’s not easy to follow.

It’s an antiwar novel, but deals with broader themes, like the abuse of power and the hypocrisy of bureaucracies rationalizing absurd policies and practices. During the sixties it was embraced by young people who saw it as a reflection of their feelings about Vietnam. I was one of those kids and tried reading it, but had a hard time. I took another swipe at it in college and did better, but it wasn’t until a couple of years ago that I read it again and got a better grasp. I’ll probably have to read it again — which I look forward to.

The first two thirds are funny. Yossarian’s observations of the insanity of the situation he and his fellow airmen find themselves in are spot-on. But as the book moves into the later chapters it gets dark. Many of Yossarian’s friends are killed or disappear, and then there’s the total destruction of a hilltop village, among other terrible things.

As I waded into the cold water of Coney Island, I found myself thinking of the scene where the full details of Snowden’s death are revealed. The young man is horribly injured and Yossarian doesn’t realize it. Snowden keeps saying, “I’m cold. I’m cold,” and Yossarian keeps assuring him that he’s going to be fine. “There, there,” he keeps repeating. “I’m cold, I’m cold,” Snowden repeats, over and over. “There, there,” Yossarian replies again and again.

Mike Nichols made an excellent movie out of Heller’s book back in 1970. It’s worth watching. (Mr. Nichols is one of just a few who won a Oscar, Emmy, Grammy and Tony award.)

Here’s the trailer for Catch 22.

‘Till next time gentle readers.

Joe