Keepsakes - to a time when I did something right

Yesterday while searching through my filing cabinet of old files looking for something, I stumbled upon something else; a file of my "working" days as a city lifeguard. In the file was an envelope full of accolades and papers regarding an incident that occurred one day while I was on duty. I opened it and went through it, and when I was done strolling down memory lane, I put it aside to blog about it because one, while I remember the incident very clearly I hadn't remembered all of the nice cards I received from it, and two, because while my girls have heard the story about what happened they haven't seen all of this stuff.

As I go through my mother's keepsakes and memories I wish I knew more of the story behind things. As a kid I knew my mother was once a teacher, but to grasp who she was or what she did as a teacher wasn't something I could fully understand as a child. And while I got it more as an adult and listened more to her stories, I still don't know it all.

I know the same holds true for my girls. They see me as "mom" the woman who cooks and cleans, carts them around town, and loves them unconditionally. I'm not a working person in their eyes and so to understand who I was before I became their mom isn't something they spend a lot of time thinking about. I get it. I understand because I'm not that same person that I was back in those days either. Finding these keepsakes, and not remembering a lot of it, got me thinking that I really should share the information with them so that someday they too wouldn't wonder. And then I thought, "What the hell, I have a blog. I'll toot my own horn on it and they will then be able to look back on it!" So here is a new theme: Keepsakes and here is the first entry:

To a time when I was at the right place at the right time and I did it right:

I was on deck lifeguarding in 1993. The swim team was practicing with its junior coach while the head coach was off in our shelter having a meeting with parents. The junior coach had the kids racing to see how far they could get without taking a breath. It's one of the things I hate that swim coaches do, and it's something I did not do when I was coaching. I hated it before then and I really hate it now. In fact Darcy doesn't usually tell me when they do it because she knows it makes me come unhinged.

One of the swimmers, a young girl that I had taught a few years back and had recommended for the swim team, dove off and started swimming. I watched her swim 25 yards without a breath, flip, and start back. More than halfway through the second 25 yards I think she lost her breath, but her body kept on going. When she got to the wall her arms kept moving, and I can remember the junior coach leaning over the block to yell at her, asking her what she was doing. That's when she began to sink. I will never forget the look on the coach's face as he looked up at me with a huge question mark.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I was out of my guard chair, kicking off my sandals, and blowing the whistle for back-up from the guard house. I remembered yelling that I needed help. I remember yelling at the coach to grab her arms. I remember running around the diving area, pushing the coach, who was frozen, out of my way, climbing over the rope that hadn't been taken down from across the starting blocks, lying on my front and reaching down into the pool for the child's arms. I remember talking aloud as I went through the procedures that I had taught so many times to students in my lifeguarding class; pull out the child, watch her head, get her on land. I had to pull her under the stupid rope and over the ledge of the pool. I got her on her back and knelt down to assess her. She wasn't breathing and her lips and the skin around her lips were blue. I remember thinking that she could not die on me as I had known her too long.

The junior coach, and by now the head coach, and the other swimmers were crowded around us. I tilted her head back as I had practiced so many times before, and I went through everything I had been taught and that I had taught for so many years. As I bent over to begin breathing for her, the opening of her airway by my tilting her head gave her enough air and she sucked in a breath, but there was too much water and she choked. I turned her on her side and helped her expel the water, but she wasn't breathing again. I turned her back and repeated my opening of the airway, pinching of the nose, leaning over to breath, and suddenly she inhaled. Her eyes popped open and she sat up her arms taking over in the crawl stroke as if she were still in the pool.

Everything after that is a blur. My co-workers got her to her feet and took her inside to the guard station and called 911. The fire department just across the parking lot and the paramedics were there in an instant, but they didn't have a pediatric cuff and had to call another squad so that our parking lot was full of fire engines and ambulances. I remember shaking so uncontrollably that the paramedics took a look at me. I remember them shaking my hand and telling me I had done a remarkable thing; that most of the time when they got those calls it was too late. The child's grandfather, who was always her ride to swim team was there, but was very confused about what had happened. The one thing I will not forget is the girl's mother arriving.

She came into the guard room running, screaming her daughter's name, her eyes wild. She threw her arms around her daughter, and then when she realized her kid was just fine, she looked around the room quickly. When her eyes landed on me, she was running again, and she threw her arms around me and hugged me tighter than I have ever been hugged before. She thanked me and thanked me and thanked me. I remember feeling embarrassed and telling her it was my job. I remember her pulling back, looking at me with tears running down her cheeks, and telling me I had saved her child from death. She told me she would never forget what I had done. Then I was in tears and we stood that way for a long time hugging and crying.

I had nightmares for several days. It was certainly not my first rescue, and it wouldn't be my last, but it was by far the most serious one. I was nominated and then honored as the city's Employee of the Quarter. The newspaper wrote a blurb about it, misspelling Cara with Kara. Eventually I would be honored as the city's Employee of the Year and have to travel around to various organizations to accept certificates and plaques and eat a lot of rubber chicken. I used it as a platform to speak about lifeguarding, something I don't think other winners had done. I gave multiple speeches and they were damn good and wouldn't you know it, those aren't in the file.

What was in the file were the clippings, the program from the banquets, my commendation letter, the various letters announcing my selections, and congratulation cards from family and friends. I didn't remember any of it. There was a nice card and message from my brother. A card from my sister. And a card from a former co-worker and a friend who wrote this:

"You're mom called me Thursday to tell me about your rescue. I thought I was going to cry --it's just so scary when you think about how close a child has come. I can't even imagine all the things you must have been and still are feeling. (I hope I never really have to find out for myself). "Congratulations" didn't really seem like exactly the right word...I always felt like you could handle it...you always worked well under pressure or in a panic. I'm just so glad you were there! If only all lifeguards really took this job as seriously as you do (as they should) it'd be so much safer! Really, Cara, I've always felt like you're the very best lifeguard I've ever known (and we've gone through quite a few, huh?). I just get so choked up when I think about that little girl's parents an how they must think of you. You should be so proud of yourself, Cara, you've been through the scariest thing of all and you did it! On the days when things don't seem to be going as well as you'd like, perhaps if you think about this time, all the other worries won't seem so big and you can feel good about yourself and the job you do and know that you are and what you do is very important! I hope I do half as good a job as you. Thanks!" Love, Joan.

I have no memory of this nice card, but I'm sure glad I kept it. I suppose that is why we keep this stuff so that we can go back and relive those nice moments when things were good, or we did good. While I have kept more than my fair share of nonsense I will hold on to this stuff so that my girls will see it someday and maybe feel proud that their mother did work at something and did accomplish something more than being just their mom.