Two older members of the Hoffman Estates Boys Club went rowing with me one evening on Big Bass Lake once the speedboats were in for the night. I asked them to take notice of my rowing strokes cutting deep into the water ever so slowly. It hardly made even a ripple on the surface of the water.
I then asked them to examine the back of my stroke as tiny whirlpools emerged from the oar. The whole movement caused us to slide along the lake as if we were on a sheer sheet of ice. In turn each boy tried their hand at this rowing technique but with less than stellar efforts. Their attempts were frustrated by unequal strokes which caused large splashes and sharp turns of the boat.
What they had failed to realize was the gliding stroke of the oar in concert one with the other. I told them this takes practice but they were not up to the task of patience and asked what good that type of stroke was for. I told them it was mastery of the rowboat on a sea of tranquility but that was totally lost on teenage minds.
I often equate that type of rowing as gliding on silk on a sea of glass. Maybe next time they will do better?