Standing My Ground

Memoir: Being Sixteen

My most difficult accomplishment, the one I’m most proud of before adulthood, came in the form of a challenge. Someone told me emphatically I couldn’t, or wouldn’t be able, to do something.

Growing up in a large family, money was always tight. If I needed new sneakers, I knew I would eventually get them, but only if one of my other siblings didn’t need a pair more than I did at the moment.

I looked forward to turning sixteen and getting a driver’s license and my first job, so I could make my own spending money. My sixteenth birthday was just around the corner in August.

One morning in July, like most summer days, my family piled into our station wagon and headed to a popular lake just outside of town. It had a sandy beach, lifeguards, slides, and two long piers out to the low and high diving boards.

There was also a dance pavilion, a covered picnic area with tables and grills, a baseball diamond, a volleyball net, and a scenic walking path around the lake.

My youngest brother and sister were taking Red Cross swimming lessons there every morning. The rest of us dived and swam, or just worked on our tans.

While walking through the bath house to the lake one morning, I noticed a sign taped to the wall:

“Do You Have What it Takes to be a Lifeguard?
Would You Like to Teach Swimming Lessons?
4-week Red Cross Lifeguard and Swim Instructor Course.
Begins August 1. Sign Up Today.”

(I’m a good, strong swimmer and I love children. I can do that!)

I pointed to the sign and told my parents I wanted to sign up for the course. The course was Monday through Friday mornings for four weeks. The hours would work, because we would already be there for swimming lessons.

I went up to the window and asked the woman where I could sign up for the course. She disappeared and a former high school football player I recognized appeared in the window.

David informed me I couldn’t sign up for the course — I was a girl. This was a physically challenging course and I would not be able to do it. He was looking for boys to sign up, preferably boys who would be on the football team.

Dejected, I thanked him and went outside to share what I found out with my parents. After hearing what David said, my father asked, “Do you really want to be a lifeguard?”

“Yes!”

“So, are you going to let what he said stop you from even trying?”

I had to think about that for a minute …

It did make me angry to be told I couldn’t do something, just because I was a girl. After all, my parents raised me to never give up: “Girls can do anything boys can do, except stand up to potty.”

I marched back in the bath house and up to the window. I asked to see David again. Then I asked him to show me the sign up sheet. “Where does it say girls aren’t allowed?”

I was the only girl in a class of fifteen to take the Red Cross Lifeguard and Swim Instructor Course that summer. It was the most difficult thing I had ever done up to that point in my life.

David was one of two instructors and I was soon aware that what he demanded of me was far more difficult than what he had the boys do during the course. He seemed hell-bent on making me quit, which made me even more determined not to.

When he threw a concrete cinder block into the deep end for a boy to retrieve, he threw mine out farther, deeper. When we had to swim laps on our backs between the piers, I had to swim my laps with my arms out of the water, using only my legs. All the while, I repeated a mantra over and over in my mind:

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this, I can do this, I can do this …

The day of the final test came. The class size had dwindled from fifteen to nine, over the past four weeks.

David stood at the head of one line, Mitch at the head of another. They told us one of them would be out in the water, thrashing like a man drowning. One by one, we would be called to ‘rescue’ him. The other one would put us through our other skills test with strength-swimming and diving. It would be a Pass or Fail final test.

When our name was called, we were to run down the pier closest to the drowning man, jump in, keeping our heads above water, as we were taught, so our eyes never left the victim. Then using the swimming and rescue skills we were taught, bring him to the steps of the closest pier.

In my mind, I reviewed what he taught us, “Be aware, a drowning victim will be terrified and thrashing wildly. He thinks he’s dying and will use any means of saving himself, even climbing up your body, if he has to! Try and calm him but do whatever it takes to save him.”

I had made it this far, I can do this, too.

I waited for my turn. I watched, as four boys tried and passed. I listened while four boys tried and failed. Oh my God. I was the last one. Why had David made me wait until last?

“Catherine!”

I jumped up and ran down the pier. Directly across from him, I jumped in, swimming hard the last three feet to him. Like he said he would, he was thrashing wildly.

I scissor-kicked hard to put myself behind him, reached out and grabbed him securely by throwing my arm across his chest, my wrist under his armpit, and I held on tight, pulling him toward me. This forced his body to a floating position and I began the hardest swim strokes I had ever done toward the ladder on the pier while using words to calm him.

Suddenly, he did an about face and broke my hold. Then he pushed me under water, still thrashing and yelling, “Help! Help Me!”

Wait! He didn’t do that with the others! His words came back to me, “Do whatever it takes to save someone who may be drowning!”

Again I maneuvered around behind him and used the same rescue hold. He was fighting me, and this time I dug my fingernails deep into the skin just behind his armpit and never broke my stride. I continued to swim, pulling him along on his back, working as hard as I could.

I could feel the muscles in my arms and legs screaming, but I would not give up, even though it was a constant battle all the way to the pier.

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this, I can do this, I can do this …

Finally, I reached the pier and guided him to the steps. He sputtered and yelled, “You used your fingernails! You cheated!”

Exhausted and angry, I yelled back, “You TOLD us to do whatever it takes to save someone from drowning! THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I DID!”

After a long pause, he shrugged his shoulders. Then he smiled.

“Pass.”

CJ’s World is reader supported.
If you enjoy my writing,
consider upgrading to
a paid subscription.
Thank you.