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When I was a kid, every summer would find me standing at the end of the high dive, looking down at the water with an ever-growing line behind me.

Often, I would turn around, determined to descend the ladder, go back to the shallow end, perhaps even stop for a hot dog at the concession stand.

Without fail, those beyond me would refuse to let me climb back down.

Although it’s been 30 years, I can hear their voice in my head, “You can do it, just keep it moving. Just jump.”

I think they were motivated not by a desire to inspire or encourage, but simply by a determination to not have to themselves climb down the ladder to let me down.

Every year, I would jump off the diving board at Angela Park or the Conygham Community Park, descend into the clear water, and return to the surface filled with an increased sense of self-esteem and excitement.

For the rest of the summer, I would fearlessly ascend the ladder and jump off the high dive — no big deal.

Years later, when I was buying my first car — a 1987 Subaru Justy with a manual transmission — I was again reminded of the value of doing things the first time.

My “Zizi” (a family name for uncle), after realizing the fear that I felt during the whole process of purchasing the car, buying insurance and learning how to use a stick, sat me down at the picnic table under the green awning after dinner, asking for a few minutes of my attention.

“Once you go through this the first time,” he said, “you’ll never have to go through this again. This is hard, but the next time you buy a car, it will be a piece of cake. Getting through this time will equip you for all the future things you have to do in your life.”

He was right.

And, although he was losing his vision at that time, he taught me how to drive a stick, sitting at that picnic table, envisioning what it would be like when I finally got behind the wheel.

Much like those swimmers that wouldn’t let me back down the ladder, Zizi wasn’t going to let me stop moving forward.

I’ve purchased several cars since that first one, and it has been progressively easier.

Often, doing something for the first time opens the door to future experiences that will enrich your life.

I remember the fear that I felt the first time I wrote an article for the Times Leader.

I pulled into the parking lot of the Wilkes-Barre Township municipal building not knowing what to expect.

They talked about signage, I diligently took notes.

They talked about police matters, I took more notes.

When I got home, I crafted an email striving, most of all, to be accurate.

The next day, there it was — my byline on the third page of the paper.

I wish I could say that all subsequent articles were easier — they were not. But, I was confident as I wrote them, that they would be completed.

Recently, my son Zack and I looked back on his first day of college last year.

He did his first year at East Stroudsburg University, only about an hour away. We both cried.

This year, he’s at Ave Maria University in Florida, more than 1,000 miles away. But now we’re used to it.

As he boarded a plane earlier this month to return to school, we rested in the assurance that we would see each other in the spring.

Getting past “first times” opens up a whole a whole world of future possibilities.

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By Geri Gibbons

[email protected]

Reach Geri Gibbons at 570-991-6117 or on Twitter @TLGGibbons.