It was a brilliant fall day in 1999, as my sons Wade and Clay, along with their friend Tommy, debated about who could perform the best kick-flip on their skateboard. In order to curtail their incessant bickering, I turned to them and announced if they ceased, I would “dare” to dive into Depoe Bay Harbor. As they watched, I walked to the edge of the pier and executed a perfect jackknife, fully-clothed, into the murky waters. The icy cold pierced through my body. I am an excellent swimmer, but as I surfaced and looked back to see the children running down the dock, I realized perhaps this was not such a good idea…

The weight of my clothing, the frigid temperature, and the distance my dive carried me created a difficult swim to shore. I made my way to the boat ramp (literally crawling up the algae-covered cement), and collapsed into the arms of the boys, all of us now soaked This dive would ignite a and laughing hysterically. This dive would ignite a fierce family tradition which came to be known as the “Woodmark Family Dare.”

My husband, John, reigned supreme as the Dare King when, after being dared to run naked seven houses down the cul-de-sac and back in the frosty winter wind, he stripped down to his tennis shoes and took off. Unbeknownst to him, our sons followed via bicycles with flashlights shining brightly on his jaybird body, while chants of “Naked man. running!” reverberated through the neighborhood. Dogs barked. Lights began to brighten windows. The chants soon. diminished to “Naked man. walking,” as John made his way. back home, winded and cold, yet triumphant from his “victory” with all of us cheering his “dare to run.”