When wrong is right

This is a long post.

There are times when you have to stand up for what is right, especially when it relates to your family. You don’t often get to choose the place or the time. And most of the time, it really isn’t a big deal in the grand scheme of things. But it’s the little things that count. And those are, ironically, the things that people remember for a long time.

The beach house we’re staying in grants us access to the local Country Club in Nags Head. They have a full-sized swimming pool at this club, diving board, the works.

In fact, it’s just like the municipal pool we swim in all summer back home.

So as we’re driving into the parking lot I ask my wife why we flew 2,000 miles just to swim in a pool that’s exactly like the one back home.

“Because,” she says frostily, “the kids like it. And I want to swim some laps.”

That answers that question, I guess.

Properly chastised, I unload the van and we troop into the pool area. Tommy sees the kiddie pool and wants to go there. My wife takes Chris to the larger pool to work on his swimming.

Chris is very close to being able to swim on his own. Last summer he could put together a few strokes in water that was not over his head. We’re thinking by the end of this summer he’ll have it down. So I guess this practice time will be good.

Tommy and I splash around in the kiddie pool. He’s having fun and it’s actually quite nice. About 10 minutes pass when Chris and my wife come by.

“Dad, guess what?” Chris says excitedly. “I went off the diving board!”

I glance at my wife for verification. She nods.

“Tell me about it,” I say to him.

He’s so excited his description is jumbled, but the gist of it is he walked up to the diving board, hopped on, and with my wife treading water beneath him, jumped in. She guided him back to the side, he’s sort of swimming but she’s supporting him.

His grin is so huge I have to shield my eyes from the sunlight bouncing off his teeth. “Want to see me do it, Dad?”

“Of course I do, Chris. Let’s go!”

So we all head over to the big pool and the diving board.

At this time in the afternoon the pool is not very busy. A full complement of lifeguards in chairs survey a pool that is mostly devoid of swimmers. A few groups of people splash about here and there, but this is not a busy day. The lifeguards are bored.

There is nobody in line for the diving board as Chris walks over. My wife gets in the water and swims out to her appointed position. Chris steps onto the board, walks out to the end. He carefully places both feet at the edge of the board, toes hanging over the edge.

He pauses, momentarily, still a bit nervous.

The lifeguard in the chair nearest the board watches. There’s really no one else for him to worry about in this part of the pool.

Tommy takes a breath and leaps. He splashes in, goes under, surfaces. He opens his eyes, spots my wife and starts paddling toward her. She reaches out and slides a hand under him, giving him just a bit of support, and side-strokes toward the side of the pool. Chris is all but doing this by himself. He’s really getting it.

The lifeguard is watching the whole thing, but doesn’t say a word.

Chris and my wife get to the side. He’s so proud and excited, and I’m thrilled for him. It’s a big achievement, and now he’ll always remember this vacation as the place where he first went off a diving board. When we get back home he’ll have something new to tell his friends.

Tommy is watching the whole thing. As Chris pulls himself up out of the pool, Tommy says, “I want to do it, too.”

I look at my wife. She shrugs, nods at me as if to say, ‘You decide.’

Tommy has spent his entire life, all two-plus years of it, trying to keep up with Chris. He watches him do things and tries his hardest to emulate him. He’s often frustrated because he simply cannot, at this point, run as fast, reach as high, and physically perform the same things Chris can. He is angry the Chris ‘gets’ to go to pre-school and he does not. He does not understand why Chris can play on a soccer team, wear a uniform, and he cannot.

So when he sees Chris do something like this, he is bound and determined to do the same thing. Remember, this is the boy who absolutely will not hear anything about being short or small. “I’m a Big Boy,” is his motto (you can read this post in the May archives - 'Little Big Man, May 15).

And I love him for his no quit attitude.

So I’m going to give him this chance to try it. I’ll go in the pool and wait for him under the diving board, and if he’s willing to jump, I’ll catch him and swim him back to the side of the pool.

I say to him, “Okay, Tommy, walk over to the diving board with Mommy, and I’ll catch you when you come in.”

He turns around and marches resolutely to the diving board, not even waiting for my wife. I jump in the pool and swim over to the entry point, and happen to notice the lifeguard staring at Tommy as he climbs on the board.

The lifeguard asks my wife, “Can he swim?”

My wife says “No.”

“Well, then,” he says, “he can’t go off the diving board.”

From the pool I say, “Look, I’ll be right here and catch him, swim him over, it’s no big deal.”

He turns to look at me and says, “The rules are you have to be able to swim to use the diving board. He,” pointing to Chris, “technically shouldn’t have done it either. But this one, I can’t let him go.”

Tommy has heard this whole exchange. I don’t think he quite understands what was said. But he senses there’s a problem. I’ll be damned if I’m just going to let this go down this way. It’s not going to be one more case of ‘Chris can, I can’t.’

I’m not going to let the system crush his spirit if I can help it.

Let me say for the record that I believe in rules. I understand the need for a set of guidelines that everyone must follow. There have to be standards.

But as the saying goes, there’s an exception to every rule. And there are those times when a clear-thinking individual should have the ability, authority and human decency to bend a rule when the consequences are nil.

I swim to the side and climb out of the pool, walk over to his stand. He stays in his tower, so I have to look up at him. He’s a teenager, maybe early twenties. Average looking, average build. He doesn’t seem to have a chip on his shoulder, or an attitude problem. He’s just a guy trying to do a job. I feel a little bad for what I’m about to do.

“I know you have rules to follow. But look around,” I say, surveying to pool, “there’s hardly anyone here, we’re not holding up anyone at waiting for the diving board, and there’s nobody in this end of the pool. What’s the harm in letting him go off the diving board?”

He looks around at the other lifeguards. “He just can’t do it. Those are the rules.”

Then he says, “I’ll get in trouble.”

And that’s the gist of it right there. The truth is he really doesn’t care what we do. But it’s his ass if the Supervisor sees us do this and he doesn’t stop it.

And what’s on the line for him? Plenty. If he loses this job, he’s going to spend the rest of the summer flipping burgers or working retail at the souvenir stand. Compared to just about any other summertime gig, lifeguarding is at the top of the totem pole.

It’s all about liability. I’m no lawyer but I’m sure the reason they have this rule is so they don’t get sued when some kid jumps off and the lifeguards don’t save him.

I know all this. And I am a reasonable guy. But Tommy’s going to jump if he wants to. One way or another. I’m not going to be a jerk, but I’m not going to let Tommy down.

I say to the lifeguard, “I hear you. You’ve told me the rule. You can’t use the diving board if you can’t swim. My son can’t swim. So if someone gives you any trouble over this, you tell them you told me the rule and I told you I understood it.”

I continue, “But right now he’s going off the board, if he wants to. I’m going to catch him and swim him to the side. And when I get out you, or your boss, can toss us all out of the pool. I’m here on vacation, I’m going home in two days, and I could care less what happens after we jump.”

“You’re not going to get in trouble over this.”

I turn away from him. We’re committed. I look back to Tommy. “Are you ready to jump, Tommy?”

He nods. Smiling.

“Hop on the board. I’ll jump in the water, and when I’m ready you jump into my arms, okay?”

He nods.

I jump into the water, swim to my spot. I glance up at the lifeguard. He’s sitting back in his chair, watching. Expressionless.

I call out to Tommy, standing on the back of the board, “Okay, are you ready?”

He walks forward. Nothing tentative about him. We walks right up to the edge, pauses, carefully curls his toes over the edge with one foot, then the other. He looks up at me, smiles a huge smile.

“Whenever you’re ready,” I say to him.

He swings his arms back and flings himself out into space. Arms outstretched, he flies forward, almost overshooting me. I reach up, catch him, sink back into the water, struggling to keep his head from going under. I regain control and begin to swim over to the side.

Tommy is shouting, “I did it! I did it!” He’s thrilled. We pull up to the edge and he starts to tell my wife and Chris all about his big jump.

I look over to the lifeguard. He’s looking away. I look around the rest of the pool. The other lifeguards are all just sitting around. Nothing seems to be happening.

Chris wants to go again, and of course Tommy does too. So they do. Nothing happens. Our lifeguard is staring out into the center of the pool.

After about five jumps each, the boys are tired, we call it a day. Packing up our stuff to leave, I look back on last time at the lifeguard. He’s not paying any attention to us.

What I did was wrong. I bent the rules to suit my needs. Some would call me a hypocrite. I’m no better than anyone else; I should live by the same rules as everyone else.

On the other hand, the pool is virtually empty, nobody got hurt, no damage done.

No harm, no foul.

I would do the same thing again. Tomorrow, if necessary.

But tomorrow, in fact in about seven hours from now, we’re going to scatter my mother’s ashes on the beach at sunrise.

I still have no idea what I am going to say.

But I know what she would have said about this little episode.

“You’re goddamn right Tommy’s going off that diving board!”

He did, mom. He did.

It’s great to be The Family Man.