That’s the term canoeists use for a rock-strewn part of the river. As a scoutmaster, I wanted to give my boys the best in outdoor excitement, and the Delaware River, from our departure point at Ten Mile River Scout Camp (NYC Scout Council) to Port Jervis, was good whitewater in the spring. That was the key word, “spring” — plenty of water in the spring.

So I made arrangements for us to use the NY City scout camp the night before our departure, and for the canoe rental and the truck to carry the canoes. What completely escaped me was the temperature of the water in April. Sure, almost all the canoes overturned at some point in the trip, but the boys had to make it ashore in 40 to 50 degree water, Fahrenheit!

There must be a God who guides errant scoutmasters and teachers! The State Park Rangers were patrolling the river in jet boats (no propellers) that morning (I never saw them again) and they picked up my boys. I found about half a dozen of them, and my youngest son, in a Ranger SUV with the heater going. My two assistant scoutmasters and I thought it was a great outing. Little did we realize.

Loretta hates TV, but every once in a while she tells me about a travelogue to Switzerland. As a teacher I didn’t have excess funds in the past, but I did, one summer, take her and my youngest son to Switzerland, which is not overly advertised by the NY Times. She talks about places we saw, some with fun festivals we missed.

Switzerland is not a big place. I covered a good part of it, mostly because I had relatives there who took their American cousin, his wife and son, everywhere. Loretta didn’t know it’s the world’s oldest existing republic (democracy) and that life during World War II was not exactly halcyon. (Forgive me for springing these words on you, but halcyon means peaceful, quiet.) She saw the hidden entrances to the alpine bunkers, though we missed the hangars that opened up on mountain highways.

But there were the beautiful, deep mountain lakes, the quaint architecture, the cheeses and chocolates. I love the mountain smells, even the horse manure. We didn’t see Heidi; she’s my cousin and came to America to marry a Navy vet.

Of course there have been worse things in my life than the coronavirus. First there were the U-boats. I was just a kid, and my mother didn’t tell me they surfaced on moon-lit nights to get a better look at us, there on a neutral Swedish liner in the mid-Atlantic. Then there was polio. It got one of my best friends.

If you don’t believe in God’s providence, I do. My mother, brothers and I made it safely to New York Harbor, and my friend now lives happily with his third wife, having outlived the other two. Life has to be what it is, otherwise it would not be life. And we cry when we lose such a great gift, but I believe life can be eternal.

So much before we keep, as we can, Good Friday and most of all, Easter. I also believe in Easter.

As the man in charge of the four-year-old boys at the day camp (some summers they numbered as many as twenty-four) I divided the swimming class among my two counselors and myself. I took the boys that were closest to swimming, and among them was Clyde, a robust kid who still had his fear of the water.

I had taught him what we called the dead man’s float (face down in the water) and the back float (face up) and he was making progress with strokes, such as the Australian crawl (free style). One overcast day, when kids don’t like to swim, he did it for ten feet. Success!

He took it like a four-year-old — with a serious expression. I don’t know if he’ll even remember my name when he grows up, but I knew it was one of those unacknowledged joys of life.

I was on the check-out line at a supermarket, and I had two gallon jugs of spring water. The clerk was a new lady who picked up one of the jugs and asked, “Are you sure you want distilled water?” Suddenly I remembered my high school science teacher saying, “Distilled water drains the body of minerals, and you don’t want to drink it.” She had saved me from my carelessness, and I didn’t even know her.

There are people like that, and they are, thank God, prevalent in today’s society. I don’t know if the influence of Western Civilization is spreading, but there seem to be less people who think only of themselves. There are fewer “me, me, me” people, so we must be maturing.

In the time of coronavirus, people like that can be lifesavers. I want to use this column to thank them.