The Bear Facts

About the Book

In the gentler, less turbulent 1980’s, when global warming still clung to clouds of a distant horizon, The Coney Island Brooklyn NY Polar Bear Club submerged in the sport of ice water swimming. It’s possible they may have heard whispers of the effects of global warming, while many Bears were ‘cold’ and fewer frozen, who answered questions on why they engaged in what some might have thought to be unconventional preoccupation with such responses as: “It’s mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it won’t matter.” “It’s such a high!” Read on what the author has to say in his compiled newsletters from the edge, about the ‘Atlantics’ of his health club’s cohorts, years after Colo’s membership had expired to rural New Fairfield, CT state to later re assemble déjàvu threads, covering approximately a four year window of musings and newsletter reportings, depicted here with photographs to help the story along. His account of more innocent times was ‘too precious to lose, he thought, ‘not to preserve for sharing with younger would be testers of frigid waters, whose determination might well match the stalwart contributions of the Club’s predecessors.’ Immerse yourselves, therefore. Get into the swim with the author, to encounter the shivers felt this side of Polar Bear Country; relive his recordings, what it was like to test below freezing temperatures without becoming a popsicle. Engage in the frivolity, color and splash of the derring-do’s from his VP tenure with the Bears, for avid torch bearers to lift the club’s banner to ever new heights of historic shenenigances, and splendor. Here is his legacy to intern dare devils and some fainter of hearts: “Show next generations what ‘right stuff’ you are made for and capable of,” said he, adding: “Monster hurricane Sandys may occur about every hundred years, to ravage the boardwalks, churn up the beaches, and blow out whatever lay in its windy path. Not to worry, though, but to help contribute yet unwritten chapters for and by the forgers of frontiers without covered wagons, to explore even greater depths of the sport; land-lubbers, yet unborn, are still to be tested. Unite then. Be daring as once we were. Spoil sports are not welcome here! All together now, everybody, into the watering hole! Brrrrrrrrr… . Baby, it’s cold outside… . Grrrrrrr… . ! Come on down…ya gonna like the way goose pimples feel. Ouch!"

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