Saltwater and Second Chances

The Day Me and My Friend Almost Drowned…

It was the summer of 1996…
I had it all figured out—
  until I didn’t…
I thought I could—
  until I couldn’t…

Life shows up at times…
 and will straight wreck your ship—
it’s a beast…
 a leviathan…

You can’t just ebb with the tide…
 if you don’t lead it—
  it will lure you…

Drowning is not an option…
Swim like your life depends on it—
  because it does…

Me…
my friend Terrell…
and his girlfriend Helen
decided to go to Panama City.. Florida
for the weekend…

It was about a six hour drive from Atlanta…
I was really spontaneous back then—
 so were my friends…

We would do crazy stuff on a whim…
 without thinking much about it…
it was Helen’s idea—
 T and me just looked at each other
  and smiled…

Within half an hour…
we were in the car and on the road—
 the highway was our runway…
 we didn’t have a flight plan…

After watching my life race by
like highway lines…
for what felt like eternity—
we finally made it…

That’s a notorious drive…
 it always feels double the time it takes…

So we found our rooms…
 chilled for a short time…
bought beer—
 and headed to the beach…

I didn’t know this but
T brought a funnel…
and he knew I had never done it before—
 so I tried it…
  about choked myself…

No bro…
it’s cool…
thanks anyway…

I like to actually taste
and enjoy a beer—
not shoot it like a rocket…
Down my throat…
to my brain
and insides…

So after a day of brutal heat
and alcohol…
I could hear the Gulf
calling my name—

Deep calls to deep…
 like a favorite song…

The two of us traded
the safety of the sand…
 for liquid turquoise…
oh.. how good it felt
on my body…

Such a beautiful and strange thing—
 is water…
It gives life…
 it can take it too…

We both were excellent swimmers…
 loved it so…
spent a lot of time in the water together—
 we ventured out pretty far…

I started to get a little tired…
Told T we should head back to shore—
 he agreed…
I could tell he was tiring too…

We hit a sandbar…
finally able to stand…
feel the bottom again…

I could feel the alcohol
hitting me more…
 creeping up on me…
  my head was spinning…

As I was bobbing…
 fighting waves…
an undercurrent picked up slightly—
 pulled us off the sandbar…

We could no longer stand…
It was back to treading…

T wasn’t looking good—
 he had way too much to drink…
This was a bad idea…
 things were about to get real…

Suddenly—
we were like two kites
with broken strings…

He started to struggle hard…
 fell below the surface…
  then up again…
   then down once more…

Oh no…
 oh no…

He cried out for me—
 help me…
  then he went under…

I went down after him…
with what strength I had left—
 got him back up…

But he was in survival mode…
 total panic…

He clung to me—
 I couldn’t move
  my arms
  or legs…

Next thing I know…
I was under water…
 he was on top of me…

Stepping all over me—
 his feet pushing me further down
as he fought for his life…
 to stay afloat…

I sank below…

Under water…
 out of strength…
  out of breath…
   far from home…

Fear spun over me
like a dreaded whirlwind—

I thought about the ones I loved…
 my life…
  how I should have done better…

I tried to fight some more—
 but I just had nothing left…
  zero breath…

I noticed the sun above…
 its beams shooting through the water
  all around me…

The fear left…
I was ok now…

I said a prayer…
 then from beneath the ocean…
  I said my goodbyes…

I gave up and breathed in saltwater…

Then—
unexpectedly…

I felt sand under my feet…
With new-found strength—
 I pushed off and up…

My head shot above water…
I found myself again
on the elusive sandbar…

I instantly started coughing…
 spitting out water from my lungs…

I breathed in—
 it was air this time…

I slowly walked
the narrow sandbar
back to shallower water…

I made it back to the beach…

My waterlogged body—
 collapsing…
  surrendering to sleep…

Later that evening…
close to sunset…

I woke…
 I remembered…
  I was so thankful…
   grateful…
    happy to be alive…

But oh my Lord—
 where was T…
  was he ok…

Then—
down the beach…

I saw him
and Helen…

The same thing had happened to him…
He somehow made it to shore…
 passed out…
  and slept…

He had just woken up
the same time I did…

This was all just so unreal…
How blessed
and fortunate
we were to have made it out…

I learned major lessons that day…
 I’m always learning stuff…

My friend T survived the ocean that day…
Only to be shot and killed years later—

Murdered…
 gunned down…
  in cold blood…

Like he was nothing…

over nothing…

He made it out of the water…
 but not the world…

And I’m still out here…

trying to make sense
  of the waves

that never stop coming…

Psalm 42:7 (NIV)


“Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls…
all your waves and breakers have swept over me…”

© 2026 Bryan H. All rights reserved.

Little Grown-Ups…

my life as a Gen X kid…

This song has the “F” word in it… only once… in one line… so you may not want to listen… if it may offend you… 👇

I was born in September of  73`… a Gen X kid…
when I look back now… I realize things…


Yeah maybe I was doing stuff early on that probably could have waited until I was an adult…


but life was different back then…


the world was wider… lighter… rawer… simpler… all at once…


And us kids…


we were all little grown-ups…

From the time I was about eight until I was fourteen…


life couldn’t have been much better…


I grew up in a fairly large community of side by side houses… side by side families…
where everybody knew everybody…
neighbors didn’t just nod — they shared life…
they borrowed sugar…
they brought each other meals…
they sat in yards and talked about real things…
hearts… stories… struggles… faith… loss… laughter…


It wasn’t perfect —
but man… it was real…

My great-grandfather lived with us in those days…


he was one of a kind…


old as dirt… tougher than leather… stubborn as wet cement…


he had lived much…
And he never ran out of stories…


He’d sit outside every day… in this beat up old folding chair…


And half the time.. I’d pull another chair beside him… and just listen…


He was a war veteran — A Purple Heart… other medals he earned through blood and grit…


Infantry…
France…
WW2…


he’d tell me stories of laughing under fire… marching… waiting… freezing… fighting… barely surviving…


And I’d pepper him with a thousand questions… because I couldn’t get enough…

Later.. I found out from my grandmother…
that he had taken many lives in battle…
those stories… he never told…
those belonged to him… and God alone…


What I did see…
was a man who had walked through hell…


And somehow came back kinder…
tougher…


And still able to laugh a little…
And love a lot…


And without making speeches…
without preaching a word…


he was shaping the boy sitting beside him…

In those days…
my parents worked…


so most times I had to fend for myself…


I had a house key… freedom… responsibility…


but there were rules…


Do the right thing when nobody is watching…


Be  about character…
Be about integrity…

Be about it…

Be a decent human being…


And oh yeah…
be home by dark…

On the edge of our community…
the world exploded into a massive forest
deep woods stretching for miles…
thousands of acres…
trees… creeks… hidden lakes… trails… wildlife…


a giant playground for kids who hadn’t yet learned to be afraid of living…


I spent countless days exploring those woods…


fishing…
riding dirt bikes…
shooting guns…


no supervision… no phones… just trust…


Sometimes on Saturdays I’d wake up before the sun…
pack myself a sack lunch and some drinks…
grab my fishing poles and tackle box…
strap it all to the back of my dirt bike…
And disappear into the woods…

All… day… long…


Sometimes friends came along…
sometimes it was just me and the world —
And honestly… those were some of the best days…


Many mornings my great-grandfather would stop me before I left…
hand me his old .22 pistol in a worn leather holster…
And tell me to take it “for protection”…
because us kids needed guns back then haha…
we learned early… how to treat and respect a firearm…
it was a great privilege… responsibility… And it was ours…

I’d strap it to my waist like a cowboy…
fire up that dirt bike…
And ride off into the blue…


Freedom…
Adventure…
Responsibility…
Trust…

A childhood that felt like life training…


And I am grateful… deeply grateful…


Those years shaped me…
they toughened me…
they softened me…
they taught me courage… solitude… resourcefulness… respect… curiosity… wonder… independence…

I didn’t know it then…


but those were Holy days…


And I am thankful I grew up when I did…


in a world… full… of little grown-ups…

`’x.~¡-^;‐

© Bryan H. 2025 — All Rights Reserved

Also… my great-grandfather’s middle name and mine… are the same… Loia… pronounced Loy like Joy…

I forgot to mention my dog… Buck… he was there too… he didn’t live inside a fence… he never knew a leash… he was free to roam… just like me… he followed me everywhere… he loved to swim… while I fished…

I’m the blood on your guitar… I’m that wave You caught back in 1975…

Late Night Confession `.•~

Tell us about your first day at something…

This is about a first day — just not the kind most people mean…

“I lost my innocence early in life… and I continued down that road for many years…
It was nobody’s fault… life will just show up on you…
Some lessons are hard learned in repetition…
And actually… I believe I’m thankful for it…
because it taught me… with beauty… just how special things can be…
differences… in what happens… and what is supposed…”

…¹4³….~[]~→†→/\/\/→| |→~…~→→→’….._::_→\_/→—-→/→/→/→’….< >→←| |→~~’ `.•~ 🏍-¡- -¡°…`

© Bryan H. 2025 — All Rights Reserved