Growing up in rural Texas in the 70's was a hoot for a kid. My parents allowed free roam of the neighborhood with the only caveat being that I had to be indoors by the time the street lamps shined. For a kid of only six, the freedom was sometimes daunting and often dangerous.
In the fall, just before school began, I learned the nearby community pool had been drained. I had been to the pool many times. The idea of seeing the deep end with no water fascinated me, and I was determined to get to the bottom of it.
Back in those days there was no razor wire around the community pool, only a standard 10 foot wooden fence. I wasn't big enough to climb the fence, but I knew where to find a few loose pickets.
I convinced my young friend, Caroline, that seeing the bottom of the empty pool could change our lives forever. My four year old sister tagged along, sworn to secrecy. We were just small enough to shimmy through the loose pickets and into the community facility. The pool looked vast as we ran to the edge.
We descended the concrete steps on the shallow end and shuffled along investigating every crack in the pool bottom. And there it was ......... the deep end. The steep slope before us looked as enticing as a playground slide. At the bottom of the slide, even more alluring, was the big drain. A simple must see for any six year old is the big drain at the bottom of the deep end.
I wasn't allowed in the deep end. My mother didn't trust my swimming skills, so I was restricted to the shallows and kiddie pools. I grinned as I slid down the slope to the drain. I had thwarted my mother's protective nature. I put my eyes up to the drain and saw blackness. I put my hand down through the metal bars and felt damp air. My friend did the same and then we were bored. Nothing else to do here.
I started up the slope to head out and with sudden fear realized that it was too steep. I slid back down toward the drain. I tried again but I was too small to get the momentum required to get up the slope. As I stood on top of the drain gazing up at the clear blue sky, I notice the number 12 painted along the edge of the top of the pool. Three little kids, 12 feet down, on the drain and no way out.
Caroline started to cry. Little sis just stood there staring at me with her thumb in her mouth. They were not going to be any help. It was up to me. Since little sis was the smallest I tried to lift her up to edge of the slope but she still couldn't reach the edge. We slid back down the slope landing in a heap near the drain.
I shushed Caroline. I couldn't think with all that wailing. She shut up for a minute or two. I leaned again the cement slope. I instructed Caroline to climb up onto my shoulders. She did so kicking me not so gingerly in the ear. Next I had little sis climb our human ladder to Caroline's shoulders. Caroline put her hands under the four year old's feet and shoved her over the edge. She was out.
Since I knew she wasn't big enough to reach down to pull Caroline out, I gave her clear instruction to go get help from anyone but Mom. Off she went. She waved to us from 12 feet up. I screamed at her to get away from the edge.
"If you fall in, " I yelled, "we will all die in here. We will never get out! Go get help."
Caroline was sobbing again. I told her crying wasn't helping and shushed her again.
I am not sure how long we waited. Time is different when you are six, even slower when you are stuck in an empty pool. I was sure we had waited for hours, when at last I heard the laughter of two teen-age boys that Sis had rounded up in the park nearby. They stood there chuckling at our situation. I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. One of the boys slid down the slope, hoisted me onto to his back, and ran up the slope, his friend grabbing his hand at the top and pulling him over. Then he went back down to get the crybaby.
We were rescued. We thanked our heroes who still hadn't stopped laughing. The boys jumped the fence and we slid back through our loose pickets. We three swore a pact to never tell our parents, keeping the secret for over 20 years.
When I contemplate what could have happened that day, it's disturbing. We could have been there a long time had I simply sat down and cried like my friend. The slope was too high and steep and we were too small. We needed help.
I think perhaps in some ways I was more in tune when I was six. I can't count the number of times since then that I have sunk to the bottom of life only to sit and whine about it. Despite the fact that I am very aware that rescue always involves someone else, I hesitate to ask for help concerned that asking for help leaves me vulnerable (and it does.) Conversely, I am the same person who rarely waivers when asked to help someone else.
THOUGHT FOR THE DAY:
Self sufficiency has no solution for one who is stuck 12 feet down in the deep end.
Peace! lw
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