September 2006                                                  The Megaphone                                                               Page 4

The Jacket

 by Julie (Stout) Crim

  The Jacket was white with patches sewn on the front and back and on both sleeves. It was a one of a kind jacket and I was prouder of that jacket than anything I ever owned . . . and here is why, The Rest of the Story.

  The first day of school, first grade, I walked the nine blocks with my daddy. Only when I was older did I realize he had taken the morning off work to do this. After arriving at Osborn Elementary School in Elwood, Indiana, we proceeded to the one and only first grade class. I don't remember much about that day but later when I was older I heard the story of why my dad went to school with me that day.

   I was born left handed and my daddy didn't want me to be encouraged to write with my right hand. He told Mrs. Wacknitz, the first grade teacher, in no uncertain terms she was to say nothing about me being different than the majority of the other children. I heard the word "different" and wondered what he meant. But I was only six years old.

  School was difficult. Neither parent ever encouraged me to study. When I brought home bad grades I got a spanking from both my mother and father. Sadly, fear didn't motivate me and that scene was repeated time and time again, year after year. The last day of school each year was always horrible. I was worried sick that I had failed. I would get my report card and walk home alone on that last day. When I was sure no one was around I would pull out the card and look at the back to see if I had passed or failed that year. Sometimes I was so relieved I'd sit right down in the grass and cried. I never did fail but I was always on the edge looking in. I remember walking home from school one day with a bunch of kids that lived in my general area. I’ll never forget what one of them said to me. At the time, using just last names was cool some thought. “Stout,” someone said, “I can’t figure you out. Either you’re really stupid or really smart.” I remember smiling and keeping my mouth shut. It felt like a reprieve and that was a lesson. As long as my mouth was shut, I could pretend I was smart

  In the sixth grade, right in the month of May, my class had the opportunity to take swimming lessons. I thought this was wonderful. My parents said I could go so for one week we rode a school bus from our school to the neighboring town of Anderson. Now Anderson had an inside pool at their YMCA and for most of us it was our first and last experience riding a school bus. In our small town we walked almost everywhere. The only exception I can think of was out of town sporting events for those who participated in later years or contests and field trips.

   It's been over 50 years, but I can still remember the bathing suit I wore that week. I was so excited to be at that inside pool and about to learn how to swim. I listened carefully. I did everything I was supposed to do and then I sank. I sank, every time. I could float, no problem, but when I raised my arms to swim, down I'd go . . . gurgle, gurgle. Still, I worked very hard. I just knew I would get the hang of it sooner or later. All the other kids seemed to be doing OK and I knew I would too. I just had to work harder, pay closer attention and listen better. I can do this, I know I can do this!

   On Thursday we were told that tomorrow was the final day of lessons and there would be a swimming party, after the test. The test was to swim across the pool at the deep end. Once we did that we would be free to play and swim as we pleased. I just knew by then I would pass and finally be one of the gang and as good as they were.

  Well, Friday came and I sank. Try as I might, I sank. The instructor said I could play in the shallow end but “Don't go near the deep end.” I was mortified beyond words. How could I live with such embarrassment? I refused to go to the shallow end and sat there watching all the rest of my class romping and splashing as they played in the deep end.

   After a while I noticed no one was watching me. It was as though I wasn't even there. Without thinking about what I was about to do or the possible consequences, I slipped into the water, holding on to the side and continued watching. No one noticed me. Again, without thinking of the consequences, I let go of the pool side and with my feet pushed away from the wall. Now I was in water over my head and could not reach the comforting side of the pool. I'll never forget that moment. I stretched my arm out and pulled a handful of water toward me. Then I did the same with the other arm . . . so far so good. I kicked a little but not much. Before I knew it I was at the other side of the pool. I turned around and swam back. Four laps later someone noticed and said I must have been fooling them and pretending I couldn't swim and that wasn't a nice thing to do.

  I don't remember what happened after that. I do know I could hardly wait until our local pool opened that summer. My dad took me and I proudly swam for him. My heart almost burst, I was so happy to finally be able to show him something I could do well. Well, not all that good . . . but I knew I would get better.

  Better happened! I loved the water and loved being a the pool. At age 14 I took the Junior Life Saving class and passed. At that same age I became a Junior Lifeguard at the Elwood Swimming Pool. I had earned my first badge. It said Junior Lifeguard in embroidered red letters on a white background. I sewed it onto the leg of my swim suit. Gosh, was I proud of that badge! At age 16 I took the Senior Life Saving class and passed, becoming a Senior Lifeguard. Eventually I was employed at the swimming pool longer than any other lifeguard, so from then on I was known as the Head Lifeguard. For a little girl with a big self esteem problem this was golden nectar.

  At age 18 the Red Cross sent me to Aquatic School where I learned how to teach water safety and lifesaving classes. Upon graduation I had earned and received the biggest patch of all. This one said Water Safety Instructor. To this day I have never received an honor that meant more to me than that patch. At Aquatic School I also was given a white patch with a green cross for swimming the optional five miles. Another patch depicted the Polar Bear Club I joined by getting up in the middle of the night and swimming in cold water.

  Throughout the years I've taught a lot of swimming classes along with private one on one instruction. In the early days the mayor of Elwood thought it was a good idea if every policeman and fireman knew how to swim. For the few that didn't I taught them . . . and they learned. To this day I have never met a person that could not learn how to save themselves in water over their head. I can't always make a person enjoy the water; however, I can take away the fear of drowning.

  In the 1980s I worked as an OB tech and assisted in delivering babies. We did a few under water births and they were amazing. The baby was born with no crying and relaxed. The cord was cut and tied underwater. A gentle hand brought the baby's head out of the water for the first breath of air. Call it natural instinct but after that first breath the baby knew to hold its breath until its head was out of the water once more. I do believe those babies had a better start in life. Water, what an amazing ingredient throughout life.

  And the jacket? All the swimming badges were sewn on it and there were a lot that covered a lot of years. But finally it was retired and spent many years stored in a box throughout busy decades. I hoped that one day I might have a child that would inherit my love of the water  . . . but it never happened. I still swim for my own pleasure and help others perfect their strokes when the need arises. 

Julie (Stout) Crim '62