The Deep End

I never felt I belonged at the shallow end.  I’m never the newbie, the slow one, the less skilled or the also-ran.  I belong at the deep end, the one who takes risks, in the thick of things, always measures up, somehow a step above, a little better than the others.  I was always in honor classes, never late or absent, the top 10% at the very least.

So here I am, at 75, at the shallow end of the pool.  The one who was tossed a life preserver so I wouldn’t drown at the deep end.  The one who felt myself sinking to the bottom.  What an ignominious end, to drown at the “Y” pool!  My friends and I would play underwater games at our childhood pools, jump fearlessly into the deep water, and never fear if boys would push us in (that’s how you knew they liked you, after all).  As an adult, it was nothing to jump off a rowboat in the middle of the pond.  I was never a superior swimmer, but I could tread water, float, backstroke and propel under water and yet here I am, flapping like a fish out of water and not even moving in any direction at all.  We are even given the senior version of floaties:  pool noodles, kick boards and foam weights. 

The exercise is called bicycling:  peddle your legs under the water and move across the pool.  I hate it.  I stay in the shallow end and practice my going nowhere flailing.  There are only a couple of other class members in this area with me; and I know without being told, that these are the ladies who never went in the pool or the ocean and could barely tolerate bathtubs.  I am so deeply ashamed I cringe until it’s finally over.  So I make a decision, verbalizing it to my friend so that it is a real commitment.  I try a couple of times to move in that direction.  Take it as a positive sign that I have not drowned.

And finally, me and my noodle change our tactics.  Big forward pedals and pushing with my up-until now useless arms.  And— (to paraphrase my 5-yr old grandson a year ago) I DID DIT!!  Can I do it without the noodle?  I don’t know, one step at a time.  But I am well on my way to regaining my place in the universe—at the DEEP END!!

 

OUR PUBLIC LIBRARY!!!

 

This is a special place and today was a special day.  Our community came together in support of our library staff and in support of each other.  A very righteous Christian woman(I'll call her Ms. X) lodged a complaint against a display of "Gay Pride" flags behind the library desk.  She was very upset that these flags have been on display for 16 months, long after it was appropriate for Gay Pride month.  As a woman who follows God and Jesus in all things in her life, it was very wrong for a public facility to display a symbol that represented minorities and to further the attempt to "indoctrinate" our young people into their lifestyle.  Ms. X made a point of only facing the Board of Trustees and not the audience.  Not surprised.

She arrived with a contingent of church going supporters (approximately 6 or 7) and was met with a meeting room filled over capacity (maybe 75?) of LGBTQ community members and allies.  As the first speaker to follow her, I noted that everyone did not share her religious views on this issue; after I said that, Ms. X and all 6 or 7 of her supporters got up and left the room.  I guess that's the Christian way of saying "F*** You!"  After my talk, 5 others spoke briefly on the same topic and eloquently and passionately offered their support of diversity and inclusion.  After the meeting, a young man was outside distributing colorful pride pins, stickers and cupcakes.  The love and support was tangible and overwhelming.  

I try hard to understand Ms. X's thought processes and her reactions to the event today.  Initially I would guess anger is the predominant emotion.  She sees all of us as a group of  miscreants, misfits, sinners, and anything but Christian(of course, I'm Jewish but I guess that's not relevant at all).  I don't know if she realized that the Priest of Grace Episcopal Church and many of her parishioners were present and not to support her.  Probably wouldn't matter; I'm guessing Episcopalians don't count (they're almost as bad as Catholics).  Was she embarrassed?  Did she gain any insight?  I'm guessing neither.  Since she didn't stay to hear us, she lost an educational opportunity.  

Will she come back to the library?  Will she come back to the water aerobics class at the Y (several members of today's audience are in that class)?  Only time will tell.  For the rest of us, this is a new beginning to fight for the right of all people to be who they are, proud and out loud!

OUR SACRED TRUST

 

There's so much to say I end up being paralyzed (my hands at least).  So in search of a coherent topic, I spent yesterday as a Poll Worker for the Georgia Primary Election.  I really didn't do it to find a topic, or for the money--but the 14-1/2 hours I spent at 2nd Baptist Church in Waycross turned out to be a very educational experience.

I learned two major things: 1) People really put forth a lot of effort to vote!  There were 599 votes cast at that precinct yesterday, and among them were people with a variety of physical handicaps:  hearing and vision impaired, people in wheelchairs and with walkers, many types of leg braces and canes, and pretty much everything else you could think of, as well as families with infants and small children.  That means that a caregiver has to help the person get in and out of a vehicle, then assist them getting in the polling place and usually with the voting process itself(the caregiver must attest that the voter needs their assistance).  In addition, the voting districts had changed since last year, so a number of people presenting here had to be re-directed to another site.  The large number of voters might have to do with the district or with people feeling that our voting process has been impaired--not sure of that.  I do know the overwhelming majority of those voters were on the Republican ballot.  

2) If our Democracy is to rescued from the constant barrage of threats occurring every day, it will be led by a brave and tireless contingent of Black women.  Of the 7 workers on duty yesterday, 5 were Black women.  I mostly sat back and watched them juggle the many tasks involved in conducting a very accountable election.  Our GOP Poll Watcher (white male) found no fault with any of it and got along very well with the whole crew.  And we all bowed to our 5 fearless leaders.  (The other white worker was a teenage boy).

I also have to give a LOT of credit to the Ware County Election Supervisor, Carlos Nelson.  He runs a tight ship and doesn't miss a step of the process.  

Personally, I still fear for our Democracy.  But I feel extremely positive about the soldiers on the front line.  

My Love/Hate Relationship with Exercise

 

 

                                               

 

                                                                     

           

Someone recently said to me “I’d bet you regularly exercised at some time in your life”.  I don’t know what precipitated that statement because I’m neither particularly toned nor muscular, but my first answer was “definitely not”.

The fact is I have a love/hate relationship with exercise.  I know it’s important for health, especially as we age but the idea of feeling compelled to do healthy things definitely ruffles my feathers, rubs me the wrong way and seriously irritates me.  But the conversation caused me to ponder my statement.

I lives in Brooklyn and Manhattan until I was 25.  If you don’t know, walking is a necessary part of living in those boroughs.  I walked to school, walked up stairs in school, walked to my friends’ houses and to shop.  If you took a subway, you walked to and from the station.  When I was older I walked long distances just to see what I could see.  When I was in college, and lived in Manhattan, I sometimes rode my bike from the lower east side to the 59^th St. Bridge.  I found it relaxing, on Sundays, to ride around the deserted financial district.  Also at the time, my best friend and I went to public folk dances where we danced for at least two hours.

My first stop in Georgia was at UGA where I found walking was necessary no matter where you parked your car and a good bit of it was uphill.  I never felt a need to join organized exercise classes or venues.  Since living in rural Georgia getting exercise as a part of life is really non-existent, unless you’re a farmer or physical laborer.  So recognizing the “should” factor, I have tried.  I have belonged to 5 different gyms.   3 went out of business and I have not been to the other two for quite some time.  At one particularly energetic time in my life I walked regularly at the YMCA outside track.  It was almost fun when the weather was pleasant (which is about 30 minutes a year in Waycross), but when the weather changes…..

I don’t like regular gyms because they are full of people who really exercise.  Also, it gets boring.  I’ve tried watching a movie on my phone, but by the time I get it working, I’ve lost interest.  The gym has many many TVs situated in front of the bikes, but I haven’t figured out how to change channels and the shows that are on are deadly.  I have also tried Yoga on more than one occasion, Zumba, and Curves.  My favorite was Zumba but alas both those things disappeared with the Pandemic (at least the type of Zumba and Yoga that works for me).  Curves or “exercise for idiots” also closed.  I live too far from the Y now, and walking in my current neighborhood is fraught with peril—dogs (who just might be feral) roam freely, cars speed heedlessly, and Confederate flags proudly displayed. 

I’ll probably try again if the right thing comes along.  Fortunately, as a Senior Citizen, insurance provides membership at no cost (or unfortunately, since I have no compelling reason to use the membership).  Hopefully, I’ll still have a salvageable muscle left to tone.