Mom made us go to swim practice. I hated it. But she was convinced that we would drown otherwise.

We’d head off to the public pool in our wood-paneled station wagon. My favorite place to sit was above the armrests between the front driver’s and passenger’s seats. Not only could I see everything from there, but I could play with the buttons on the radio.

Sometimes Mom would suddenly brake—only because of other drivers. Her right arm would immediately lock in place to brace me.