Growing Up

mother let sister and me
share 
her size-eight white-leather ice-skates
until they no longer fit

 

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Room for One More

 

Downtown Hyannis is a mecca for the homeless.  There are bus services and social services, including the only overnight shelter for adults on Cape Cod, all within walking distance for most.  Social services also include transitional assistance, Social Security Administration, unemployment, disability services, legal aid, community action, soup kitchens, thrift shops, food pantries, Red Cross, Catholic Social Services, the Immigration Center, federal health clinics, clinics for treating addiction, etc.  There are a fair number of rooms for rent and lesser expensive hotel rooms off-season.  In the winter especially, one can easily spot those without permanent abodes.

When driving through routinely, one may even come across the same individuals over and over again.  One man carries a long-hike backpack.  I remember him because he looks Asian and that is fairly uncommon.  He wears a bulky green army jacket, construction boots and glasses.  He has a long Fu Manchu.  I have seen him walking Main Street on the many trips through on my way to the pool.

Recently, I saw him outside at the parking lot of my pool.  The next time I saw him inside, then exiting the building.  Today, I almost didn’t recognize him poolside.  It was the first time I saw him without the bulky winter coat.  He is razor-thin, I’d guess about 90 pounds.  He wore jeans, a long-sleeve shirt, bright yellow suspenders, and was barefoot.

He laid on the cabana lounge chair flat on his back and gazed up into the screen of a cell phone.  He unusually faced away from the pool.  Later, he pulled out a clipboard and pencil out of his bag.  “A writer” I thought.  He walked over to the lifeguard and showed him the clipboard and made a few gestures with his hands without uttering a sound.  He left and came back carrying a steaming to-go cup.  Morning java I assume, the way most people start their day.

True Hero

lifesaverA mother and son entered the pool area. The young adult son seemed non-verbal and avoided eye contact. As I was just thinking – no rest for the weary – Mother went straight to a cabana lounge chair, stretched out flat, and immediately closed her eyes. The boy went straight to the water, carrying a bag. Soon, the boy had his collection in hand and a system. He spent a good deal of time carefully moving a small pile of prized possessions from one side of the pool to another. He walked while doing this and never submerged himself in the water. This occupied him for some time.  In one of his crossings, one item fell to the bottom of the pool. He was disturbed as evidenced by an increased frequency in soft moans, which became a cry for help. I looked over and Mother’s eyes remained closed. As I was wondering what to do, a girl was swimming by and noticed the dilemma. I guessed her to be about seven years old. Although she didn’t know this boy and he was different, she took quick personal action, donned her swimming goggles, and dove underwater to fetch the item in question. The boy was immediately calmed and she went about her business as though nothing happened. Another day saved.