Ocean
Watch
Monday, July 7, 1997
Jacques Cousteau:
a fan’s appreciation
While driving to town on the freeway two weeks ago, I
heard on the radio that Jacques Cousteau died. I felt sad at first, but
talk of his extraordinary life, which included the invention of scuba
gear, soon brought forth a flood of pleasant memories.
When I was a kid in the late 1950s, I used to sit
cross-legged in front of our little black-and-white television, mesmerized
by a show called "Sea Hunt." I can still see it clearly: Lloyd
Bridges swimming boldly underwater, fighting bad guys who routinely yanked
his regulator out of his mouth or cut his air hose with a wicked-looking
dive knife.
It was scary stuff, but, oh, how I loved the show's
exotic thrills.
Later, along with millions of others, I became a great
fan of Jacques Cousteau's television specials. The marine animals were
fascinating, but the divers held me spellbound. How do they breathe
through that thing in their mouths? Why doesn't water get up their noses?
Isn't it terrifying to be deep in the cold, dark water with all those
weird animals lurking?
I am tempted to say that it was these television shows
of my youth that inspired me to study marine biology and learn to scuba
dive, but it isn't so. The concept of ocean diving was so far from my
small-town Midwest existence, I didn't think it even remotely possible for
an ordinary person like me to do it. It was a sport for men, and special
men at that.
In my heart I didn't believe any of it was real. Fish
don't swim up to people like that, I thought, and you can't be comfortable
underwater. It had to be a setup.
It was a long time before I changed my mind. That
change came from a marine sanctuary in Mexico.
A friend persuaded me to rent gear and try snorkeling
while we vacationed there. I'll always remember the moment I put my face
in that sparkling Caribbean water. A school of bright-blue chromis
happened to be passing, close to my face. Giant parrotfish crunched coral
nearby, and purple sea urchins littered the sea floor beneath me.
I was dumbfounded. Fish, when they're protected from
fishing, do swim up to regular people, even first-timers like me. Also, I
felt warm and was breathing just fine, face down in the water.
Suddenly the possibilities of exploring this new world
seemed endless. I vowed to learn the names and habits of these lovely,
friendly fish and invertebrates. In a move as brave as anything I've ever
done, I learned to scuba dive.
My first dive was in Kaneohe Bay, a simple descent from
a boat into 20 feet of water. There, with my instructor, I breathed for
the first time through a regulator. I, a wimpy Wisconsin woman, could do
it! I emerged grinning from ear to ear feeling like Ms. Sea Hunt. (But
don't yank my regulator from my mouth, please.)
Since he died, a lot has been said about Jacques
Cousteau. He was a poet, an innovator and a renaissance man. He spoke for
a silent world, brought the wonder of the ocean into people's homes and
invented the regulator, a device that allowed nearly anyone to descend and
experience the marine world for oneself.
He also spent much of his life trying to save the
world's oceans from ruin. Cousteau preached conservation and strongly
encouraged the creation of marine sanctuaries. Perhaps because of his
message, that small underwater park in Mexico that so changed my life came
into existence.
The only negative words I ever heard about Cousteau
were that he was not a scientist, meaning he did not have any graduate
degrees in marine biology. Some biologists said his views of the marine
world were "popular," not real science.
Pure jealousy, I believe. Jacques Cousteau probably did
more for the advancement of marine science than all the Ph.D.s on Earth
put together.
His vision changed my life. I will remember him fondly.
