Youth In Retrospect

From time to time I think I'll write an essay about my childhood, for myself and for my daughters to discover a little bit about why I am who I am.

My brother Jason and I enjoying a refreshing dip in a water-filled trash can.
 

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Or a water-filled wagon.

My love of water started young.

I grew up in the California sunshine. I spent as much time outside as I possibly could. I remember spending hours alone in my backyard. I would create waterfalls in the orange tree with a sprinkler, and swing on our play-set while singing at the top of my lungs. I took special notice of how my feet looked against the blue sky when I would reach the pinnacle of my rhythm.

Homemade water slide. I named the plastic horse Genie, we shared many wild west adventures together.

Much of my outdoor ventures involved water, inflatable pools, 'slip and slides' made out of tarp, running through the sprinklers and a hose secured to the swing-set slide with a landing in a plastic pool or two.

1987

I loved that pink bathing suit with little white hearts. I can almost smell our dinner cooking in Dad's solar oven, we would take turns rotating it to keep it pointing at the sun

When I wasn't playing in the water at home...I was playing in water at the public pool, Fullertown. All of us Compton kids were on the swim team. We were the Tuna Sharks, the worst ever title for a team. I wanted to be a Dolphin or a Mermaid, even the Stingrays had a cooler team name than Fulletown Tuna Sharks. Yet I was proud to be on the swim team and I loved to race. I was on the team from age 5 to 17( I swam in Missouri too for awhile after we moved).

I'm the confused/nauseous looking little girl sitting in the front on the left, 3rd in. Jason with his glowing blond hair above me, and Jennifer is 2nd row 3rd in from the right.

My memories of my years on the swim team blur together. I recall swim meets on summer Saturdays,the sound of the starting gun, munching on liquorice rope while waiting on sleeping bags for my next race. I remember swimming my races, but whether I won or lost...only one race stands out.

 It was a boys and girls relay race... I was 16. I was the last swimmer which means that I had to make up for any time lost or hold the lead if we had one. I was to race against a teenage boy...his arms were huge and his teammate was ahead of mine. I watched him dive into the water and pound away at the surface...less than graceful but strong. I had streamline in my favor and I intended to swim my lap with one breath. Seconds passed before my teammate's hand touched the wall and I launched myself from the starting block into the pool.

 I swam with everything I had...the young feminist in me had something to prove.

 I was sure he'd looked at my 95 pound frame and wrote me off as a weak little girl, not even competition. I would humble him, I would show him what I was capable of.

My heart pounded, the sound of water flowing past me drowned out  the sound of my cheering team. I was gaining on him but one lap doesn't allow for much time to close a head start. It was going to be close. I was nearly to the wall, he was right next to me. I slammed my hand against the black cross on the opposite end of the pool and looked quickly to my right, he was just slamming his hand against the wall, I won!  I smiled with my whole self, I'll never forget that victory. He was a good sport and reached over the lane rope to shake my hand. Maybe he didn't need to be humbled after all. Perhaps I  had something to prove only to myself, and I think I proved it. I am capable, I am strong, I am valuable and I can overcome difficult odds. 

Once upon a time I had very short hair..and won trophies. Isn't Jeff adorable!

My Mom placed us all on the swim team so we could become strong swimmers ( she has a frightening childhood memory that was her inspiration to do so). But it also provided me with happy memories and opportunities to show myself what I'm made of.