Over at Write Brainers I'm doing a series of questions to the group about childhood memories. Since I've not settled on a project to work on next, ruminating on those little gold nuggets of childhood are helpful. The things I remember are sometimes surprising and many times inspire new ideas. Anyway it's never time wasted, since my own childhood is one of my favorite places to cuddle up and spend some time. So here's a little nugget, in the spirit of the upcoming season. :o)
My parents were both teachers, so summer was a special time when I was growing up. Particularly the last day of school. We would go out to eat and my parents would be in great moods. I still love the last day of school, it makes me get the same happy feeling even now. Summer was mostly a blast. And then there were swimming lessons. . . .
My mother took me to classes at an outdoor community pool, taught by a stern woman we called Miss Jean. She was a drill Sargent and didn't hold with namby pamby students who complained about the cold. We were in northern Michigan and summer sees it's share of cold days. No matter. When Miss Jean said, put your face in the water, there was no question you would do it. I learned to swim out of the simple fear Miss Jean might drown me if I disobeyed. She shouted stroke counts above your head as you fought your way across the pool. There was no encouragement, unless you count things like, "You're SINKING!" and "Get your BUTT up!"
My parents were both teachers, so summer was a special time when I was growing up. Particularly the last day of school. We would go out to eat and my parents would be in great moods. I still love the last day of school, it makes me get the same happy feeling even now. Summer was mostly a blast. And then there were swimming lessons. . . .
My mother took me to classes at an outdoor community pool, taught by a stern woman we called Miss Jean. She was a drill Sargent and didn't hold with namby pamby students who complained about the cold. We were in northern Michigan and summer sees it's share of cold days. No matter. When Miss Jean said, put your face in the water, there was no question you would do it. I learned to swim out of the simple fear Miss Jean might drown me if I disobeyed. She shouted stroke counts above your head as you fought your way across the pool. There was no encouragement, unless you count things like, "You're SINKING!" and "Get your BUTT up!"
I was a miserable swimmer. There was no hope of impressing Miss Jean. I knew this. And, at eleven, I looked emaciated in my bathing suit besides. The boys in the class called me Lori Dean the String Bean. Though I had an appreciation for alliteration even then, this did not give me comfort under the circumstances. I felt like a stick bug trying to be a fish. I continued to sink, much to Miss Jean's disgust. Then, one day after a successful prone kick and fin she said dryly, "Well, now you've got it."
I never made it past the Red Cross "Advanced Beginner" level, but I do thank Miss Jean, who ultimately had a heart of gold, for bringing me that far. She was hard to impress which I found magnetic. She taught me that there was a time to be serious and do the work, and she made me work harder. She didn't reward you simply for showing up. And her compliments were few, which made them precious indeed.
What is your favorite summertime memory?
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