The Swimming Pool II
Over the years I worked at the pool with a lot of different people. I met Terry Conrad while working at the pool. Terry was a lifeguard along with me and he attended high school at WACO. Terry was very bright and loved technology. He was always fiddling with old radios and gadgets like that.
Terry had a great sense of humor and was always coming up with cleaver tricks and practical jokes. In the filter room there was a huge over flow tank. It was round and about three feet in diameter and six feet tall. Near the bottom of the tank was a three-inch pipe with a small wheel valve. The pipe led directly to the main line just before the large filters. Over it was an eight-inch pipe with a large wheel valve. That line is what we used to add city water to the pool. It came from a well not far from the pool.
In the heat of the summer when the pool water temperature was too warm to be comfortable we sometimes added well water to cool it down some. It really didn’t help much but it was better than nothing. One very hot summer day we got the idea that we could really cool down by crawling in that big tank. We would open the bottom valve full blast and the top valve and the tank would look like a boiling caldron of water. It was far from being hot with the water temperature about 60 degrees.
Once, on a hot afternoon after we had backwashed the filters Terry decided to get into the tank before going out to guard the pool. As often happened there were four or five kids at the top of the steps watching us work. The kids were shocked to see Terry crawl in the big tank with the water swirling around. Terry seized the moment and begin acting like the water was pulling him under. The kids imagined that the tank went deep into the floor of the room and eventually into the pool. Terry struggled, screamed and disappeared. The kids were screaming frantically. I yelled at them to run out and see if he came out in the bottom of the pool. By the time they came back Terry and I were laughing hysterically.Those kids went and got their friends and we did it again. We replayed the trick over and over. We even fooled a few of the female lifeguards with that trick.
Although this may have sounded risky it really wasn’t. The suction out the side pipe was minimal and both Terry and I could hold our breath for quite awhile. Some of our other escapades were really risky.
We challenged each other to see who could hold their breath the longest. We would both swim the length of the pool under water and start back the other way sometimes getting as much as halfway back.
We tried diving from the back rail of the diving board stand. That meant the diver had to clear about 12 feet of the deck to get to the water. The diver would stand on the top of the rail with the other person bracing him. We easily cleared the deck so naturally we moved about four feet back to the deck rail. Miraculously we both cleared the deck that way, a full 16 feet. We only did that once each! If you think this is crazy wait until you hear the next story.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Sunday, October 22, 2006
The Swimming Pool
I worked at the Mt. Pleasant Pool every summer from age 13 through my first year of college. I started as the basket boy for the morning Red Cross lessons and ended being assistant manager. I usually worked six days a week and many times seven. During the six weeks of Red Cross lessons, work started at 9 am and didn’t end until we closed the pool at 9 pm. I usually had an hour for lunch and supper but usually taught private lessons during those times. Needless to say I didn’t have much of a social life except when it rained. Those days we closed and we usually went to a movie or something like that.
People used to ask me if I ever saved anybody. I would usually say that I pulled someone out on an almost weekly basis. Did that mean I saved them? Well, I always thought that if I hadn’t done it someone else would have. That sort of thing is fairly common at most pools. Someone gets in over their head and needs a little help getting out.
It wasn’t quite as common to have someone slip under the water and not be noticed. Lifeguards are all about prevention and using rescue as little as possible. When it was necessary the guard would try to extend something to the swimmer or throw a life ring to them. We were to only enter the water as a last resort. On one occasion we had to use the resuscitator. As it turned out the person was having a seizure. We used it to provide oxygen. I don’t think he was ever in serious danger. Although I practiced it a thousand times, I never had to use CPR.
The pool was divided into areas with a guard responsible for each one. The areas were deliberately overlapping to make sure we had complete coverage of the entire pool. We practiced scanning our areas in patterns and then reversing the pattern and scanning again. That went on over and over all day long. It is so hard wired into my head today that I find myself doing it every time I am around people who are in the water. It is kind of a curse to always be looking for trouble.
In all of those years at the swimming pool we had some great times. I swam everyday and became a strong swimmer. At the annual swimming meet every summer I was undefeated, even swimming against swimmers two or three years older than me. It was the one area of my life that I had great success.
At every swimming meet the guards put on a show. We usually dressed up in crazy outfits and did crazy things off the diving boards. One trick was to line six guys up on the very end of the board and all dive in at exactly the same time. It was dangerous and tricky but I don’t think anyone ever got hurt. I still have the picture of us doing it that was on the front page of the newspaper.
Sometimes on hot summer nights some of us would stick around after the pool closed and go for a moonlight swim. It was cool to have the whole pool to ourselves. We often ordered pizza and had our own small party. Sometimes the police would stop in and check to make sure we were pool employees.
The police checked the pool after hours regularly throughout the season. It wasn’t unusual for us to find clothing left behind by skinny dippers who had climbed over the fence the night before. Sometime we had vandalism or damage to the pool. On a few occasions they broke into the bathhouse and would take whatever they wanted. Sometimes we were very frustrated.
We cooked up schemes to get back at the scoundrels. We put jelly on the counter we knew they would crawl over to get into the bathhouse once and the intruders left a messy trail but probably just washed it all off in the pool so we weren’t ahead much. Once we hid in the bathhouse until the swimmers snuck in and then turned on all the lights. When we realized how many of them there were and how big they looked we called the police. Fortunately, they left before anything happened.
We spent the night a few times at the pool waiting up most of the night to catch intruders. That didn’t work to well because we scared ourselves more than anyone else that came along. I’ll tell some more about that in the next installment.
People used to ask me if I ever saved anybody. I would usually say that I pulled someone out on an almost weekly basis. Did that mean I saved them? Well, I always thought that if I hadn’t done it someone else would have. That sort of thing is fairly common at most pools. Someone gets in over their head and needs a little help getting out.
It wasn’t quite as common to have someone slip under the water and not be noticed. Lifeguards are all about prevention and using rescue as little as possible. When it was necessary the guard would try to extend something to the swimmer or throw a life ring to them. We were to only enter the water as a last resort. On one occasion we had to use the resuscitator. As it turned out the person was having a seizure. We used it to provide oxygen. I don’t think he was ever in serious danger. Although I practiced it a thousand times, I never had to use CPR.
The pool was divided into areas with a guard responsible for each one. The areas were deliberately overlapping to make sure we had complete coverage of the entire pool. We practiced scanning our areas in patterns and then reversing the pattern and scanning again. That went on over and over all day long. It is so hard wired into my head today that I find myself doing it every time I am around people who are in the water. It is kind of a curse to always be looking for trouble.
In all of those years at the swimming pool we had some great times. I swam everyday and became a strong swimmer. At the annual swimming meet every summer I was undefeated, even swimming against swimmers two or three years older than me. It was the one area of my life that I had great success.
At every swimming meet the guards put on a show. We usually dressed up in crazy outfits and did crazy things off the diving boards. One trick was to line six guys up on the very end of the board and all dive in at exactly the same time. It was dangerous and tricky but I don’t think anyone ever got hurt. I still have the picture of us doing it that was on the front page of the newspaper.
Sometimes on hot summer nights some of us would stick around after the pool closed and go for a moonlight swim. It was cool to have the whole pool to ourselves. We often ordered pizza and had our own small party. Sometimes the police would stop in and check to make sure we were pool employees.
The police checked the pool after hours regularly throughout the season. It wasn’t unusual for us to find clothing left behind by skinny dippers who had climbed over the fence the night before. Sometime we had vandalism or damage to the pool. On a few occasions they broke into the bathhouse and would take whatever they wanted. Sometimes we were very frustrated.
We cooked up schemes to get back at the scoundrels. We put jelly on the counter we knew they would crawl over to get into the bathhouse once and the intruders left a messy trail but probably just washed it all off in the pool so we weren’t ahead much. Once we hid in the bathhouse until the swimmers snuck in and then turned on all the lights. When we realized how many of them there were and how big they looked we called the police. Fortunately, they left before anything happened.
We spent the night a few times at the pool waiting up most of the night to catch intruders. That didn’t work to well because we scared ourselves more than anyone else that came along. I’ll tell some more about that in the next installment.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Collections
My family has always collected things! I collected arrowheads, marbles, buttons, iron toys, coins and gadgets. I still do. I have expanded to old tools, unusual musical instruments and harmonicas. If I think about it very long I am sure I could think of a couple more.
I don’t know what possesses people to collect things but some people do and some don’t. It is almost a curse. I am sure some of the folks who declutter houses would have a field day with me. It is not all my fault! It’s genetic! Yes, it came down from both sides of my family.
My Mother has always collected things. I remember when she collected apple dolls. She made them and still has many. She collected different kinds of dishes and then Avon collectables. She has a collection of dolls, trivets and I am sure she has a collection of many other things.
And books, oh, my family collected books. My family has such a profound respect for a good book, fiction or non-fiction, that they can hardly bare to give them up even after they have read them.
My Dad was the worst! He, of course, had a large collection of arrowheads, which he shared with hundreds, maybe thousands. Many others things he tucked away somewhere. He had a button collection, an old map collection, an old tool collection, and more. He clipped articles from all sources and pasted them in scrapbooks. He collected historical information about areas of the county and put them in three ring binders. He was almost always looking for something.
One winter, when it had been particularly dry for sometime, we went to Merrimac. Much of the river bottom was exposed. First we collected a large spike that was part of the 1855 dam and then two boards from the Mill that was there in 1841. Dad also had a brick from that mill.
Dad had a brick from the Trenton Institute of Science that was built in 1868. I remember seeing the building when I was growing up. At some point the building was torn down but Dad made sure he got that brick.
He had a spindle from the stairway of the hotel that was in Rome. He used to hold it in his hand and say, “Think of the stories that piece of wood could tell!” and then he would tell me the hotel had a reputation for being a wild place.
Dad collected boards because good lumber was hard to come by and expensive, too. The walls of the garage are lined with those boards today. You never know when you might need a good board for something?
Besides the arrowheads, bones of prehistoric creatures and all of the other stuff, we collected rocks. All kinds of rocks! We found geodes, fossils, and just interesting looking rocks. If we could lift it we would bring it home. We piled them in stacks in the yard. Many are still visible there and others have sunk into the ground. Dad speculated that archaeologists a thousand years from now would be baffled by the odd assortment of rocks in the location of our house.
Even though this seems like a lot of stuff there is more! I don’t know how many collections we have or even why? I just know we are collectors.
I don’t know what possesses people to collect things but some people do and some don’t. It is almost a curse. I am sure some of the folks who declutter houses would have a field day with me. It is not all my fault! It’s genetic! Yes, it came down from both sides of my family.
My Mother has always collected things. I remember when she collected apple dolls. She made them and still has many. She collected different kinds of dishes and then Avon collectables. She has a collection of dolls, trivets and I am sure she has a collection of many other things.
And books, oh, my family collected books. My family has such a profound respect for a good book, fiction or non-fiction, that they can hardly bare to give them up even after they have read them.
My Dad was the worst! He, of course, had a large collection of arrowheads, which he shared with hundreds, maybe thousands. Many others things he tucked away somewhere. He had a button collection, an old map collection, an old tool collection, and more. He clipped articles from all sources and pasted them in scrapbooks. He collected historical information about areas of the county and put them in three ring binders. He was almost always looking for something.
One winter, when it had been particularly dry for sometime, we went to Merrimac. Much of the river bottom was exposed. First we collected a large spike that was part of the 1855 dam and then two boards from the Mill that was there in 1841. Dad also had a brick from that mill.
Dad had a brick from the Trenton Institute of Science that was built in 1868. I remember seeing the building when I was growing up. At some point the building was torn down but Dad made sure he got that brick.
He had a spindle from the stairway of the hotel that was in Rome. He used to hold it in his hand and say, “Think of the stories that piece of wood could tell!” and then he would tell me the hotel had a reputation for being a wild place.
Dad collected boards because good lumber was hard to come by and expensive, too. The walls of the garage are lined with those boards today. You never know when you might need a good board for something?
Besides the arrowheads, bones of prehistoric creatures and all of the other stuff, we collected rocks. All kinds of rocks! We found geodes, fossils, and just interesting looking rocks. If we could lift it we would bring it home. We piled them in stacks in the yard. Many are still visible there and others have sunk into the ground. Dad speculated that archaeologists a thousand years from now would be baffled by the odd assortment of rocks in the location of our house.
Even though this seems like a lot of stuff there is more! I don’t know how many collections we have or even why? I just know we are collectors.
Monday, October 09, 2006
National Aquatic School
During my senior year in high school the Henry County Red Cross decided they wanted to send me to National Aquatic School. It was partly because they wanted to reward me for loyal service and partly because they had never sent anyone before, had the money and thought it was a novel idea.
There were schools located in four or five places across the country. The nearest was at a place called Little Grassy Lake Campus near Carbondale, Illinois. It was part of the campus of Southern Illinois University. In those days the Red Cross had a big office in St Louis and some of the national leaders were involved in this school because St. Louis was only about 130 miles west of Carbondale. The one I attended lasted 10 days and while I was there I focused on becoming certified as a Handicapped Swimmer Instructor because I was already certified as a Water Safety Instructor.
One of the instructors was a person named Walter Housganick. I don’t think I have spelled his last name right but he was a famous man in the Red Cross. He was retired by this time and came to our school to teach for a few days that summer. He had done many movies for the Red Cross on how to do different water safety and rescues.
Walter was not much more than five feet tall. He was not a big man in any way except his belly. It stuck right out like he was ten months pregnant. His favorite way to teach was flat on his back in the water. He would float on his back, that huge belly sticking out like a whale and lecture away at us for an hour. He was fascinating to listen to and had story after story about daring rescues and what did or what should have happened.
The curriculum was rigorous and focused on classroom activities and practical application of the training in the water. We had the classroom part in the morning usually and were in the water all afternoon. Many times the instructors would teach from the dock while the students treaded water or floated. We were in about 20 feet of water so there was no rest. By the end of the camp I could tread water for couple hours without much problem. You learn to minimize your effort and maximize your buoyancy.
To better understand being disabled we simulated different kind of problems. We tied an arm or both arms to our side and then tried to figure out the best ways to move through the water. I was the one who had to try it without arms and legs so my arms were tied to my side. A board was placed between my legs and then my legs were tied together. They shoved me off the dock before I was ready and I was on my own. I was able to roll over relax and my face came out of the water just enough to gasp of a bit of air. Fortunately, they fished me out soon after that but the feeling of helplessness was horrible. I have never forgotten it.
Another, not so traumatic, activity that we did was called the “blind man swim.” In that activity a blind folded swimmer was paired with another swimmer. We were told to swim to the sound of a bell about a quarter of a mile away. The other swimmer was there to help if the blind folded swimmer got way off course. Once we swam around the bell a different bell sounded back where we had started. Each person took a turn with the blindfold and as the escort. I hated being blind folded and swam as fast as I could to get it over with. My escort couldn’t keep up with me but it didn’t really matter cause I swam right to the bell and then back.
I graduated in June of 1967, about a month after I graduated from high school. The trip by Trailways bus to Carbondale and then back home was quite an experience for me and something I will write about another time.
There were schools located in four or five places across the country. The nearest was at a place called Little Grassy Lake Campus near Carbondale, Illinois. It was part of the campus of Southern Illinois University. In those days the Red Cross had a big office in St Louis and some of the national leaders were involved in this school because St. Louis was only about 130 miles west of Carbondale. The one I attended lasted 10 days and while I was there I focused on becoming certified as a Handicapped Swimmer Instructor because I was already certified as a Water Safety Instructor.
One of the instructors was a person named Walter Housganick. I don’t think I have spelled his last name right but he was a famous man in the Red Cross. He was retired by this time and came to our school to teach for a few days that summer. He had done many movies for the Red Cross on how to do different water safety and rescues.
Walter was not much more than five feet tall. He was not a big man in any way except his belly. It stuck right out like he was ten months pregnant. His favorite way to teach was flat on his back in the water. He would float on his back, that huge belly sticking out like a whale and lecture away at us for an hour. He was fascinating to listen to and had story after story about daring rescues and what did or what should have happened.
The curriculum was rigorous and focused on classroom activities and practical application of the training in the water. We had the classroom part in the morning usually and were in the water all afternoon. Many times the instructors would teach from the dock while the students treaded water or floated. We were in about 20 feet of water so there was no rest. By the end of the camp I could tread water for couple hours without much problem. You learn to minimize your effort and maximize your buoyancy.
To better understand being disabled we simulated different kind of problems. We tied an arm or both arms to our side and then tried to figure out the best ways to move through the water. I was the one who had to try it without arms and legs so my arms were tied to my side. A board was placed between my legs and then my legs were tied together. They shoved me off the dock before I was ready and I was on my own. I was able to roll over relax and my face came out of the water just enough to gasp of a bit of air. Fortunately, they fished me out soon after that but the feeling of helplessness was horrible. I have never forgotten it.
Another, not so traumatic, activity that we did was called the “blind man swim.” In that activity a blind folded swimmer was paired with another swimmer. We were told to swim to the sound of a bell about a quarter of a mile away. The other swimmer was there to help if the blind folded swimmer got way off course. Once we swam around the bell a different bell sounded back where we had started. Each person took a turn with the blindfold and as the escort. I hated being blind folded and swam as fast as I could to get it over with. My escort couldn’t keep up with me but it didn’t really matter cause I swam right to the bell and then back.
I graduated in June of 1967, about a month after I graduated from high school. The trip by Trailways bus to Carbondale and then back home was quite an experience for me and something I will write about another time.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Berkshires Barbershop
Barbershops have been gathering places for a long time. Usually, men gather in places like that to talk over the issues of the day or gossip about anyone who is not there. Eventually conversations turn to sports.
Berkshires Barber shop in Mt, Pleasant was no different. In the daytime there was almost always someone hanging around there to share or pick-up on the latest. In the evening it was no different. The crowd was much younger in the evening though.
My cousin, Terry Ross, cleaned the barbershop in the evenings for Wayne Berkshire. He wasn’t supposed to let anyone in while he did that but you know how that goes. Everybody knew where to find Terry from about 6:30 top 8:30 on Sunday through Thursday night. Friday nights Wayne just swept up a little after the shop closed at 9:00 and besides Terry was otherwise occupied on Fridays. The same was true for Terry on Saturday nights. Cleaning the barbershop was the last thing on his mind. That is why he waited until Sunday evening to clean it.
Terry was one of the hardest workers I have ever known. He took great pride in cleaning the barbershop. It had been remodeled just prior to him starting there. It had shiny chrome fixtures and chairs. It had huge mirrors across the wall behind the chairs and another large one across from the chairs. I remember Terry polishing those chairs to perfection. More than once I waited for him to finish up and on the way out the door he would notice something that wasn’t just right. Outside the shop he would look back in the big front window. If he saw anything that wasn’t perfect he would unlock the door and go back in and fix it.
I subbed for Terry a few times when he was unable to be there to clean the shop. I don’t think I ever lived up to the expectation but it was good money so I didn’t turn down the opportunity.
Terry was masterful at using the reflection in store windows across the street to see who was coming down the street on foot or by car. He knew you were coming before you got there. Sometimes he would run out and stop a friend in a car if he had something important to share.
Terry played as hard as he worked. After finishing up at the shop we would sometimes go out and get in mischief somewhere. We never did do anything terribly wrong but definitely did things we shouldn’t be doing.
Once we chased around some out of town thugs until they decided to chase us. We were in my parents car and headed out into the country and eventually down a very muddy road. Of course, we got stuck and so did the other guys. Since we were in front we talked them into helping push us out and promised to have a nearby farmer come and pull them out. They helped us get out and we left them there. I don’t know how they ever got out but I do know they were pretty mad when they did.
Berkshires Barber shop in Mt, Pleasant was no different. In the daytime there was almost always someone hanging around there to share or pick-up on the latest. In the evening it was no different. The crowd was much younger in the evening though.
My cousin, Terry Ross, cleaned the barbershop in the evenings for Wayne Berkshire. He wasn’t supposed to let anyone in while he did that but you know how that goes. Everybody knew where to find Terry from about 6:30 top 8:30 on Sunday through Thursday night. Friday nights Wayne just swept up a little after the shop closed at 9:00 and besides Terry was otherwise occupied on Fridays. The same was true for Terry on Saturday nights. Cleaning the barbershop was the last thing on his mind. That is why he waited until Sunday evening to clean it.
Terry was one of the hardest workers I have ever known. He took great pride in cleaning the barbershop. It had been remodeled just prior to him starting there. It had shiny chrome fixtures and chairs. It had huge mirrors across the wall behind the chairs and another large one across from the chairs. I remember Terry polishing those chairs to perfection. More than once I waited for him to finish up and on the way out the door he would notice something that wasn’t just right. Outside the shop he would look back in the big front window. If he saw anything that wasn’t perfect he would unlock the door and go back in and fix it.
I subbed for Terry a few times when he was unable to be there to clean the shop. I don’t think I ever lived up to the expectation but it was good money so I didn’t turn down the opportunity.
Terry was masterful at using the reflection in store windows across the street to see who was coming down the street on foot or by car. He knew you were coming before you got there. Sometimes he would run out and stop a friend in a car if he had something important to share.
Terry played as hard as he worked. After finishing up at the shop we would sometimes go out and get in mischief somewhere. We never did do anything terribly wrong but definitely did things we shouldn’t be doing.
Once we chased around some out of town thugs until they decided to chase us. We were in my parents car and headed out into the country and eventually down a very muddy road. Of course, we got stuck and so did the other guys. Since we were in front we talked them into helping push us out and promised to have a nearby farmer come and pull them out. They helped us get out and we left them there. I don’t know how they ever got out but I do know they were pretty mad when they did.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)