Stick Castle

 

“What’s that you’re building?” I’ve just gotten out of the water and Keller Beach is hopping! Radios blasting Motown, buff boys playing bean bag target practice, and a little girl, sitting with her mom right behind us, balancing a stick in the sand.

            She’s very serious. It is a work of art. Ian chimes in, “It’s a stick tower.”

            Mom chuckles, “A stick fortress”?

            The little girl stares at us all for a moment, then gazes seriously at her stick before announcing “Stick Castle”.

            We all laugh, “Of course,” I say.

            Mom nods, “She knows it!”

            And she does, going back to her balancing of the stick in the sand, carefully bending the top of the stick this way and that to get just the right effect. The stick is maybe 2 feet tall and seemingly nothing special. But she sees something the rest of us don’t.

            A Castle.

            I remember the sandcastles I and my sisters constructed on the shores of Huntington Beach. We’d fill our brightly colored plastic buckets--lime, tangerine, aqua-- full of water and sand, then drain the water out and pack the sand in tight. When it was just right, we’d turn the buckets upside down and create a mound of sand for the castle. We’d continue this process until we had a healthy number of towers, and then we’d create a moat around our castle, letting the sea whoosh in and out of its circular confines.

            There is nothing like being a kid at the beach. And, today, at Keller was no exception.

            “Have you been in the water?” I ask Stick Castle Architect.

            She shakes her head. “My boys already in the water,” Mom announces pointing toward the shore, “but she don’t wanna go in. Last time we brought the boogie boards, the blow-up dolphin. She don’t want none of it. The dolphin, it just sat here on the beach, sunbathing.” She gives a boisterous guffaw.

            I smile, “It’s a beautiful day. The water is warm,” I encourage Stick Castle Girl.

            She stares up at me for a moment, still holding the stick in place, before going back to her castle project.

            Mom is on the phone, “We down here at Keller........ Yeah, you should come down....... No, I don’t care what they say.....there still Corona.....”

            I’m lying in the sun now, covered in towels, thinking about this new day of “Californian is Open”. Of course, I’m happy to not be wearing a mask today. But on the other hand, I have some anxiety over Governor Newsom just announcing several weeks ago that June 15^th would be the day that everything could go back to normal. No more masks. No more social distancing. No more worry.

            Yet....how is this possible? Even with 70% of Californians vaccinated, that leaves 30% who aren’t. The virus is still here. Won’t it just attack this 30%? Or will the 70% keep enough of a barrier so that the 30% will be protected?

            I don’t know. I’m not a scientist. I’m assuming that Newsom has the data. He is always on TV with his pie charts and his experts. They must have all decided that June 15 would be the day for some reason.

            And yet...what of Stick Castle Girl? She can’t possibly be vaccinated. She’s so little. Maybe 4? I know that kids this young won’t have any vaccine till who knows when.  I am relieved that Mom seems aware of the danger. Is keeping her daughter safe.

            But how? The beach is crowded. The kids are running around, laughing and playing as kids do. Even Stick Castle Girl is off down to the water now, running with her brothers. Having a blast.

            And she should. You’re only a kid once. The Beach is the best. A time to run, swim, play and build.

            “You ready to head out?” Ian asks, starting to back up his chair, umbrella, swim gear.

            “Sure.” I’m sitting up now, watching Castle Girl as she comes racing back from the water, a grin so wide that it’s contagious.

            “How’s the water?” I ask her.

            “Good,” she exclaims, before plopping on the blanket next to mom and resuming her work on her castle. 

            

What's the Big Deal?????

The Dream

 

The pool is long and narrow and outdoors, surrounded by a dense forest of redwoods. As I wade into the murky water, I try to keep my distance from the crowds of swimmers and families. No one is wearing a mask. Everyone is pell-mell in the shallow water, laughing, splashing, roughhousing. I feel panicked. I need to get away from these crowds so I can swim. I try to swim through the crowd, but come close to touching people several times. My anxiety builds. Then, I’m out past them and swimming in the long thin pool with the redwoods looming around me. 

The water is shallow and as I swim it becomes shallower and shallower until I’m trying to swim on the grass. This is a common motif in my dreams and even as I dream it I’m aware that it is. So, I turn around and head back toward the crowds where the water slowly appears and I can swim most of the time without hitting the bottom with my hands. Yet as I get closer to the edge of the pool, I have to slow down. It’s just too crowded. I stand and walk, coming up behind a large grey tortoise swimming ahead of me. I am astounded. As I follow the beautiful swimming beast, I see that it is on a leash being pulled by a tall middle-aged man with white hair. Is the tortoise his pet? I walk up closer to the tortoise, smiling and waving at it. It just keeps swimming, busy with its ancient rite of movement through the water.

I hail the man, “Hey! Is this your tortoise?”

He turns and glares at me. “Yes.”

“Cool! What’s his name?”

“It’s a HER. And HER name is Mryna Loy!” he harrumphs.

Myrna Loy the tortoise. I am delighted. As I come up next to her, I give her a nod, “Nice to meet you, Myrna Loy.” She turns her head, her beady eyes ancient and wise—gazes at me for a moment, before the man pulls her toward him. She doesn’t protest or resist, but placidly swims on, heedless of me or any of the other swimmers and families that are now crowding my passage again.

 

            

The Letter

“Ohhhh MY.....GAWD!!!!” I can’t help but exclaim to myself. I’m sitting at the computer, staring at my swimmer’s schedule for Flex Reg on the Richmond City Website. Blurry grey and white boxes swim on the screen, but as I stare at them, my focus sharpens. Yup, here it is in black and blue:

Sunday, May 30^th, Richmond Swim Center:

12:00 p.m. to 12:40 pm: Carol Jameson

12:00 p.m. to 12:40 pm: Ian Lambton

 

I had reserved a lane for both of us! It was their mistake! Part of me is in disbelief. I was so sure, 2 hours earlier, that I had made a mistake. After all, computer systems don’t make mistakes, right? But here it is, both of our names for the time I reserved. What had happened? Now, I was even more livid than before, on the one hand; but on the other hand, I was relieved that I hadn’t blown it. Yet...it was wrong, right? The lifeguard, esp. now that I know I had reserved two lanes, should have let us both swim. He should have given us the benefit of the doubt. The mistake was made. By whom, I don’t know. But I was gonna find out.

            I opened a WORD doc and dashed off an email to Linda.

From: Carol Jameson [mailto:cjameson.jameson@gmail.com]
Sent: Sunday, May 30, 2021 2:15 PM
To: Linda Kennedy-Plunge
Subject: Not allowed to swim at Kennedy on Sunday, May 30th--even though we had paid for 2 people

 

Hi Linda,

 

I've just had a very upsetting experience at Kennedy HS pool today, Sunday, May 30th. The roster showed that I hadn't signed up for the swim today, at noon. I had, in fact, signed up for both myself and my partner, Ian Lambton, for today. I will attach a copy of the schedule for you.

 

The manager wouldn't give us the benefit of the doubt that it may have been a mistake on the system's end. I acknowledged that it could have been my mistake and I only signed up one of us (Ian Lambton), but I was pretty sure that I had paid for both of us. However, I was willing to concede that perhaps I made a mistake. The system is, after all, complicated. I could have goofed.  But...could he give us the benefit of the doubt and let both of us swim?

 

He wouldn't budge. He said that we'd be getting a 'free swim' --even though it turns out that I had paid. (Now that I'm at home and have the schedule in front of me--next time, I'll bring a printout—it certainly looks to me like both of us were signed up for today. Both of our names are listed on this date, May 30^th, for this time, Noon-12:40 pm.)

 

However, this ‘manager’ was only concerned about his 'reputation' and didn't care about us at all. What happened to giving the customer the benefit of the doubt? And if I had made a mistake (which it turned out, I hadn't) what would have been the big deal about letting us share a lane? Ian had his feet in the WATER and this manager wouldn't let him in. The young woman who checked us in and the other lifeguard, another young man, were willing to let us both swim.

 

I’m not sure what can be done now other than crediting me for a swim (or 10 swims!), but I thought you should know that this happened. I get that mistakes are made, but the inflexibility around the ‘rules’ was frankly ridiculous. The lifeguards need to be able to make ‘judgment’ calls around situations like this. If they can’t, they shouldn’t be in

charge.

 

I think that there should be some training with your managers/lifeguards about this possibility. Whether it’s an error in the computer system or human error, the goodwill that could have been nurtured here by letting us both swim, was instead, shot to hell.

 

 

Sincerely,

 

Carol Jameson

 

P.S. I did not get this manager’s name, but I’m sure he’s on your schedule for Kennedy on Sundays. He has dark curly hair, wears glasses and is very ‘by- the- book’---which is maybe what you want? 

 

After I wrote the above missive, I felt a huge release. Writing as therapy. It works! I wasn’t sure if the letter would even get a response, but getting the anger out of my body and onto the page was such a release.

            What swimming is supposed to be for me!

            Hungry and tired, I snapped the computer shut, and headed into the kitchen to make my usual tortilla, spinach, and cheese.

Yet...it was so strange, right? What had happened? How did they show that I wasn’t on the roster? Frankly, even though I was, this was irrelevant. Mistakes get made. I don’t care whose fault it is. The benefit of the doubt and use of judgment should have prevailed today.

Tomorrow was a holiday. I wouldn’t hear from Linda. I finished my tortilla and turned off The Young and the Restless. I was exhausted. Fury can do that, right?

Stumbling into the bedroom, I lay down on the big bed. Clara hopped up beside and curled into a ball. Closing my eyes, darkness took over. I breathed deeply once....twice....thrice....and I was out.....

 

           

 

 Feet in the Water

    by 

Ian Lambton

My feet were already in the water.

And yes, it was pleasant to be at the Kennedy High School swim pool again, with the light cascading through the glass roof stretching dome-like over the four or five massive wooden beams that arch overhead. After a year of pandemic shutdown the pools are finally beginning to open again, although restricted by the clipboard of cautiously bureaucratic rules.

Such as:  

·         Must wear mask (Covid mask, not swim mask) till last minute before entering water;

·         Mask must be kept in plastic bag ready for the moment you get out;

·         No use of changing rooms or restrooms (leading to the unpleasant challenge of driving home wearing wet swim gear, a different wetness danger not involving lifeguards;

·         And of course one person per lane, and must be signed up and paid for through the website ahead of time;

·         Forty minutes maximum, enough for the casual but not enough for the serious swimmers who must rush to squeeze in their swim routine;

·         All rules regimented with whistles and Covid Protocols, and supervised by lifeguards, and the PDM in charge (Personal Distance Monitor).

But… the pool was open. And heated. Much warmer than swimming outdoors in the San Francisco Bay. This had been an adventure, previously considered prohibitively cold, prior to the pandemic. But then for the last year, it had become the only option for desperate swimmers. Driven to leaping like lemmings? Certainly, it was risking hyperthermia, if not sharks, to brave the challenge of a few summer-month-only swims. But now at last, we were back to the luxury of a calm, heated pool – swim bliss.

“Sorry, but you can’t share a lane.” It was the PDM looming over me.

“What? Oh, yeah,” I began to explain. “It’s okay, we’re both signed up, but it seems there was some glitch in the sign-up system. But it’s okay, we can just share a lane,” I said, being Mister Reasonable. “We’re both vaccinated and we’re a couple,” I added, assuming this helped with the lane- sharing common sense, and ready to jump in and enjoy la agua encantadora. “The check-in girl at the desk said to ask the lifeguard and the lifeguard said it was no problemo.”

“No. Sorry. Sharing lanes is not permitted. That would be like getting a free swim.”

“Oh, we can pay the seven bucks, if that’s what the issue is.”

“No. That won’t work because it has to go through the website.”

Carol, my better half and the much more serious swimmer, having already done her first lap was suddenly there, interrupting her every-moment-counts routine. “Wait a minute… this is ridiculous…” she began. As she argued her point I saw that this might get nasty. You do not want to upset Carol, it’s just never worth it. If the young man got bitten, too bad, that was his problem. My problem was that once she gets upset it takes forever for her to regain her equilibrium, one reason why being in the water is so important to maintain the magic, that floating sense of balance. Not that I could explain this to the PDM’s officious effort. I just hoped he saw the obvious, so she could swim without the ripples of frustration, and allowing me to complete my poised plunge.

“I understand your frustration, Ma’am, but…”

”Yes, but surely…”

“No. Sorry, but…”

“Yes but…why not...”

“No. Sorry, but…”

It was like watching ping-pong. Back and forth, her common sense “gimme-a-break” insistence versus the polite but inflexible allocation of regulations. He even said that bending the rules would harm his reputation. The problem was that they had my name on their clipboard list, but that hers was missing, even though she had been the one to sign us both up and pay the fees.

Meanwhile, there was the lure of the water, the ability to have aches and pains and frustrations immediately float away in the moment of submerging. The comforting buoyancy of lovely warm water – there it was, lapping around my feet.

“Okay, okay,” I said, “let her swim, she’s the real swimmer.” Reluctantly I began to climb out.

In these pandemic times I had been essentially forced into early retirement, something I should have welcomed had it been my choice.  But too many things were happening by default, it seemed. I gathered up my swim gear with a sigh, shrugged, and lumbered out to wait in the car. At least I had a good book to read, East of Eden, the John Steinbeck epic.

I do like a swim now and then but luckily I can live without it. But this incident of lap swim deprivation was, as they say, a story with legs – it was gonna go places. I had lost a swim, but at least I had gotten a toe in the water.

What next? Read Carol's version: 

                                      The Tease....

“Do you want to know how It happened?” I’ve got the manager of the Richmond Pools on the line.

“Sure! I’d love to!”

“Well....it all started......

 

24 Hours Earlier

“Hi, how ya doin'?” I greet the young woman checking in the line of swimmers for our Kennedy High School lap swim. During COVID, it’s a process. We have to sign up ahead of time over the ‘system’; we have to pay ahead of time on this system; then we have a lane reserved for us based on our signup. 

When we get to the pool, we all line up outside on the blue tape on the sidewalk that has us socially distanced. We have to wear our masks even though we’re outside, making sure we have our plastic baggie to put our masks in once we’re in the pool.  We give our names to the lifeguard who has our reservations on a clipboard. She asks us if we have had any Covid symptoms or been around anyone that has Covid. Then she gives us our lane number and we’re good to go.

Except for today, this didn’t happen. I give her my name and Ian’s for her to check off and then....

“Uh....it looks like we don’t have you on the list....” Her voice trails off as she continues to stare at her clipboard.

“Really?” I ask. This has never happened before. I am dumbfounded.

“Yes, we have Ian on the list, but not you....”

“Well, I suppose I could have made a mistake....” I think to myself how this is very possible. I sign up for 10 swims in 20 minutes on the reservation system, which is convoluted and tricky. I made the reservations weeks ago. It’s entirely possible that I blew it. But yet.... we’re here. Ready to go.

“Yeah....” She shrugs, not sure what to do with us.

Ian gallantly steps up. “Just let her swim. It’s more important to her. I can go without.”

“Well...” She nods, still unsure.

“Or, can’t we share a lane?” I ask. “I mean, we’re in the same pod.”

“I guess that would be okay....” she murmurs. “Ian is in Lane 8.”

“Great!” I say. “We’ll just share lane 8. Thanks.”

We march in, already I’m rushing to beat the clock. With only a 40-minute window to swim, by the time we get checked in, put our caps and goggles on, plug up the ears, and make our way to the deck, it’s been 2 minutes. I usually get in 38 minutes.  I've never gotten the full 40 minutes. Yet, I’m so happy to be swimming indoors, out of the dive tank, in a warm pool.

As I jump into the pool today, the clock has already ticked 3 minutes. Damn! I need to swim fast to make my mile. Ian’s lagging behind me, not nearly as rigid about the time or the amount he swims. I swim a couple of laps and then notice that he’s still sitting at the edge of the pool, his feet in the water covered in his red fins, holding his mask in his lap. One of the lifeguards is squatting next to him, talking.

What the hell is going on? I wonder.

I stop. “Hey, is there a problem?”

The Lifeguard stares down at me, his beady brown eyes serious behind the gold-rimmed glasses. “We can’t let him swim,” he says.

“What!? Why not?”

“Only one of you paid for the swim, so that means you’d be getting a free swim.”

“I can pay you for the swim,” Ian offers.

“No, that won’t work. You have to pay through the system.”

“Okay, well,” I try, “what if just email Linda (I throw around his boss’ name, hoping to make some headway) and let her know what happened and we can figure it out later.” I glance over at the clock. Already 11 minutes of precious swim time have gone by. “And you can just let us swim for today, okay?”

“I am afraid I can’t do that,” he commands. “You’d be getting a free swim,” he repeats. “I know it’s frustrating. You are here and want to swim, but since you didn’t register ahead of time, there’s no way for me to collect any money from you. And, I have my reputation to consider. I’ve been here a long time and I have two other staff here that would see what’s going on and I can’t let that happen.”

I bang the top of the water with my fists, infuriated. “I won’t tell anyone! Just give us a break today, okay? It’s a Sunday afternoon. There’s room for us to both swim here. The young woman who checked us in said it’d be okay....”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let him swim. It’s against the rules.”

“OH MY GOD!!!!” I scream. “I’m a regular swimmer here. I will contact Linda, okay? I understand that you have ‘rules’ but c’mon, just bend a bit today, okay? Just let us both swim.”

He shakes his head and I can tell he’s not going to budge. I glance over at the clock, now it’s been 14 minutes. Damn! If I’m gonna get a swim in at all, I need to let this go and deal with it later.

“It’s okay,” Ian says, taking off his fins and standing. “You go ahead and enjoy your swim, Carol.”

“I WON’T ENJOY MY SWIM!!!” I holler.

I turn and dive under the water, fuming. I can’t believe that he wouldn’t let Ian swim. There is plenty of room. It isn’t a safety issue. It’s 7 dollars for chrissakes. It’s not like we’re trying to scam the City of Richmond outta a few bucks. We just want to swim! A mistake was made.

What the hell is the Big Deal?

I am so mad, but as I continue my swim, some of the anger dissipates. Or at least the steam coming out of my ears is plugged up!

The whistle blows. I’m outta the pool and off the deck in record time. I ignore Mr. HardAss as I stomp off the deck, heading back through the locker rooms and into the parking lot where Ian is waiting for me in the car.

~~To Be Continued~~