It was the summer before I left for college. Thirteen
cousins were over for the week, and mom had some things she needed to get done
at the house. So the younger kids were at another aunt's house for the
afternoon and the rest of us decided to spend one afternoon at the public pool.
Mom dropped us off planning to join in a couple hours.
A group of
us rushed, without running, toward the diving board. The concrete was rough and
sediment-y under my toes. I could feel the sun baking my skin. We stood in line
at the diving board, making half of the line ourselves, and called out types of
jump suggestions to each other. "Cannon
Ball!", "Can you do a jacknife?", "Dive as far down
as you can!" and so on. Finally we went back to our chairs full of damp
towels for a rest.
A group of
them were sitting there, doing nothing.
"Come
on!" I challenged one cousin who was probably seven at the time, "Why
aren't you swimming?" I expected a complaint about the water being too
cold.
"The
lifeguard told me I couldn't." She mumbled.
"What?
Why?"
She
shrugged.
"Which
one? Take me to her?" I followed, not sure what to expect. Her older
sister followed, too. She stopped next to a lifeguard on the edge of the pool,
far enough away to stay out of it and let me get between her and the life
guard. "Hi, my cousin said you told her she couldn't swim? Why not?"
I was completely confused. And out of my element.
"T-shirts
aren't allowed in the pool." The lifeguard responded.
I wish I
could tell you what the lifeguard looked like but I have no idea. I'm not even
completely sure it wasn't a he. I was too focused on trying to breathe steadily
and understand what was going on and avoiding confrontation.
"But
they have to wear T-shirts-- it's a family rule." I tried to explain.
I'm a
dedicated introvert. I don't like standing out, I don't like being the center
of attention, and I really don't like talking to strangers or being wrong.
Generally, I feel drained by people and I need to get alone to recharge and
feel more like myself. But there is no rule saying introverts have to hide away
and stay out of conversations and stay away from people. I do enjoy being
around people, to an extent. I like small groups of people where I don't feel
challenged. But this was not the case that summer day. I was not able to ignore
the problem and go on swimming or hide under my towel. If I didn't stand up for
my cousins, there was no one here who would.
The
lifeguard tried to get back to watching the swimmers. "Sorry, it's a pool
rule."
"I
don't understand." Why was it such a big deal to them?
"Would
you like to talk to the manager?"
No. "Yes," I said,
ignoring myself. My cousins were here for one week, we wanted to swim, my mom
wasn't going to be back for a couple hours-- we weren't going to just sit under
an umbrella that whole time, and we weren't about to go swimming without our
cousins who had to wear T-shirts.
I followed
the life guard inside to where the offices were, and a couple sisters and
cousins followed me. I'm not sure who all followed, I wasn't paying attention.
I was too concerned about standing up to a stranger about established policies.
The
lifeguard went into a room and came out with the manager. She was in her early
twenties I think, and was wearing a lifeguard T-shirt, a name tag I didn't
read, shorts, and one of those red lifeguard fanny packs.
"What's
the problem?" She asked, seeming genuine. The lifeguard left to get back
to her post outside.
I took a
deep breath and tried to go slow. "My cousins were told they can't wear
their T-shirts in the pool, but it's a family rule and their parents aren't
here so they can't like ask for permission or anything." I held my arm. It
was cold in this air-conditioned hallway.
"Let
me explain. We have this rule for a couple reasons. First, we have to know the
swimmers are actually wearing a swimsuit, so white T-shirts are ok."
I-- yes me-- actually interrupted. "But
that defeats the purpose."
"Actually,
white T-shirts still keep you from being burned."
"I
didn't know that, that's cool. But the whole thing is it's a modesty issue and
a white T-Shirt does nothing for modesty."
She wanted
to explain the rest of the reasons. "The fibers on the T-shirts will also
get caught on the water slide and will slow it down, and also potentially rip
the T-Shirt."
Interrupting
seems to be habit forming. "OK, I could tell them they can't go on the
water slide. I think they'd be willing to do that…"
"Well
alright, but there's still the dyes in the T-shirts. They leak into the pool,
and although they won't necessarily change the color of the water, we have to keep the pool at a specific pH and
if we let everyone wear T-shirts it will be nearly impossible to keep up with
it."
By this
point I was just indignant. I didn't understand why this lady couldn't just let
my cousins swim. I didn't care that my face was red and that my palms were
sweaty, I was too busy defending my cousins.
"There
are only five of them here- that can't be enough to mess it up…"
She seemed
to be surprised that I was being so persistent. Or maybe it was just me that
was surprised. At any rate, she said "I just can't let you do this all
summer-"
I was so
close. "They're only here for the week, and we're only planning to be here
today and only for a few hours." It came out in a rush.
"And
no water slide."
I nodded.
"Alright
then. Just for today."
"Thank
you!"
She went
back into the room, and we went back outside. I remember we were all excited,
glad we had been given permission, glad I had somehow succeeded. We gave the OK
to the cousins who hadn't heard the news yet, with the caution that they could
not go down the slide. They scampered away smiling, but I just sat in the chair
wrapped in a towel, trying to calm my heartbeat, wishing I hadn't needed to
talk to anyone.
Life after her father's passing became rough because her mother was unable to find a job in such a small, mountain town. "But we had books and an occasional movie in nearby Grundy," White says. She and her sisters particularly liked Doris Day, Debbie Reynolds, Roy Rogers, Dale Evans and Gene Autrey. Then, she and her sisters acted out scenes from these movies, and from books, to make their own fun. White comments that they "became creative by necessity." When I asked her how she kept track of all her memories for use in her books, White said, "I really don't know how I keep track of all those memories, but whenever I need one, it's out there."
White recently published a love story for adults that she says is based on her "mother's early years living on an isolated mountaintop in Southwest Virginia." It is called Diary of a Wildflower, and can be found on Kindle.
