WHENEVER I am stressed, tired, or unhappy, there?s no place I would rather be than out in the ocean. I?ve been a scuba-diver for the last 20 years, and my idea of bliss is sitting in a boat in the middle of the sea, lazing around between dives, and jumping into the salty blue water. I have a great respect for all sea creatures, and am passionate about protecting the marine environment.

I love the water, feel very much at home in it, and cannot imagine my life without it.

It wasn?t always that way.

I remember two instances when I thought water would kill me. I was about six, and my brothers, who were carrying me in a swimming pool in water over my head, started fighting over me ? and proceeded to drop the object of their tussle. I remember my muffled scream, and how I thought I would pass out before I was hastily plucked out. I had nightmares of being underwater for weeks.

Another time, in a second-grade classmate?s swimming party in a country club, the other girls taunted me about hanging on to the side of the pool. When one girl came close to me, I jumped on her and both of us swallowed a lot of water before I scrambled back to the gutter. I swore off swimming parties after that.

Scared

I was 11 when my parents decided to enroll me in swimming lessons at what used to be the Ace Health Club in White Plains. I had by then come to dread the smell of chlorine, and since Ace had an indoor pool, the smell was magnified several times over.

On the first day of class one summer afternoon, I was one of only two girls and five boys, but all of the other kids were younger than I ? there was even a baby! I sat apprehensively in the shallow side, wondering where the teacher was. Then, a dark man with a mop of straight hair and large, penetrating eyes splashed noisily into the pool. It was Bert Lozada, our swimming teacher. He scared the hell out of me.

Out came the kickboards, styrofoam boards you hung on to while kicking from one end of the pool to the other. After several turns, the boys started to falter, and that was when I first heard Bert?s loud voice boom across the place like it was judgment day: ?Langoy!? I figured out early on that I had better do what the man says.

I also soon figured out that Bert was gentle with students who listened, but could make crybabies cry even more.

He took me aside in our second class and showed me how to dog paddle, then watched intently as I crossed to the deep end of the pool, my heart beating hard as I tried to focus on my breathing and prayed that he wouldn?t yell at me. When I made it, he smiled. ?O, you see? Sige, keep practicing.?

Six-month-old

In the days that followed, the same scenes would be replayed. One minute, Bert would be holding a sniffling 10-year-old boy by the hands and pulling him into the water as the kid called for his mother; the next minute, I would pause from my constant dog paddling to watch in awe as he gently led a six-month-old baby boy into the water, making him float on his back. ?He?s going to have a swimming party for his first birthday,? Bert said with a chuckle.

Several minutes later, just when the baby had calmed down, Bert picked him up and threw him a short distance into the water, as the baby?s mother, sitting poolside, covered her eyes to keep from shrieking. The baby cried again for a few minutes, but in no time was gurgling and floating like he was back in the womb.

By the end of the sessions, I was dog-paddling with abandon, and had even begun to try a few strokes. Bert would hand us a spoon we would pass from one hand to the other when our fingers lined up between alternating strokes, keeping each stroke long and relaxed.

A few months later, I swam out into the ocean for the first time by myself, in deep water.

I was free; it was that simple.

Middle of Tubbataha

Fast-forward to today, May 2009. Just a month ago, I was in the middle of the Tubbataha Reefs in Sulu Sea, diving a hundred feet down to chase sharks and manta rays and barracudas. On the surface, I floated around in water that was probably thousands of feet deep, and I wondered how I had ever been afraid of being there.

Last May 4, the man who taught me how to swim, Remberto ?Bert? Lozada, died of pancreatic cancer at Fuda Cancer Hospital in China, where he was receiving treatment. He was 68.

?He was actually diagnosed in May 2007, and was given only until December of that year to live,? says his eldest son, Anthony, who has been helping his father teach since he was 11; he?s now 42. ?But with prayers and good doctors, he lasted this long.?

I can almost imagine Bert glaring at the disease with those bulging eyes, and sending the cancer cells shirking into remission, albeit temporarily.

Stopped throwing babies

With sons Anthony and Angelo helping him out ? daughter Suzie now lives in the US ?
Bert transformed the school he had inherited from his father into the Bert Lozada Swimming School (BLSS), a national institution, with classes being taught in pools all over the country.

They stopped throwing babies into the water after Anthony learned the new technology for teaching infants with their parents in HK and the US.

In June, BLSS will launch its Miracle Swimming Program for teaching adults how to swim, in a system tailored to each student?s concerns and needs.

The school also holds regular outreach programs in depressed areas like Smokey Mountain. Few things gave his father more joy, Anthony says, than seeing an underprivileged student earn an athletic scholarship because he had learned how to swim, and swim fast.

BLSS is a member of the US Swim School Association, and some of its coaches have been certified by the Australian Council for the Teaching of Swimming and Water Safety.

The original Lozada swimming school was established in 1950 by Captain Catalino Lozada, Bert?s father, a motorcycle policeman who had become concerned over the growing number of deaths due to drowning.

?That?s why my father was also a disciplinarian, because of his own father,? says Anthony. ?Even at this age, we were afraid of him; he could give you that look of his. Like many dads, he wasn?t very expressive with words, but when we were growing up, he would hug us, make us sit on his lap. I have a very clear memory of him helping me fly my kite.?

Zenas and music

Bert was an even bigger pussycat, however, when it came to his wife of 43 years, the renowned concert pianist Zenas Reyes-Lozada. ?He was very submissive and patient with our mom,? Anthony recalls.

When Zenas was artistic director of Puerta Real in Intramuros, Bert would attend all the performances and even help out backstage with the technical details.

Although I met Zenas years ago, it was only later that I learned she was Bert?s wife. ?Your husband taught me how to swim ? he changed my life!? I told her once.

?It was a perfect marriage of sports and music,? Anthony says of the relationship.

Bert Lozada started swimming at age 12 and became a member of the Philippine national team, competing at the Asian Games in 1958 and 1962.

It was as teacher, however, that he made his mark and touched countless lives.

Swimming champions Eric Buhain and Ryan Papa were among his students. ?My dream is to see a swim-loving Filipino population, and for swimming to become the preferred sport and pastime across all ages in the country,? Bert has been quoted as saying.

?I think that?s why he never really trained us, his kids, to be competitive swimmers; he taught us to be teachers,? Anthony says. ?He knew the objectives and the rewards would be greater, and we could reach out to more people this way.?

Although Bert retired in 2007, he never quite left the pool, Anthony reveals. ?We would call him Mr. Kickboard, because even coming out of the ICU, he would be asking if the students already had their kickboards.?

Once, when a friend said his child was really afraid of the water, Bert dropped in on the lessons and carried the child out to the pool himself before endorsing him to one of the coaches. ?His legacy has been to always keep kids safe in the water, and to teach people everywhere to truly enjoy the water, as well,? Anthony says.

People like me. I never got to thank him, but I trust Zenas delivered the message.

Godspeed, Sir Bert. I?ll think of you next time I?m happily floating in the middle of the sea somewhere, and I?ll always be grateful for this wonderful world that you opened up for me.

Still afraid of the water? Get over it! Check out www.bertlozadaswimschool.com.