Your pool story reminded me of my childhood years in Redlands and the pleasures of swimming at the Sylvan Plunge, the public pool in Redlands. I was curious if Jim ever swam there…
Deb - I have to share another pool story: this time, the wonderful three-lane pool at the Aspen Institute. This was some years ago... I love to swim first thing in the morning, and usually it's empty, except for one other woman who also showed up at the same time. But this time I had boyfriend along, and we still fit comfortably into the three lanes. Then Wes Clark showed up, so boyfriend and I share a lane, and Wes Clark took the middle. A few more laps, and I peeked up out of the water to hear the woman berating Wes for splashing too hard. I ducked underwater again; not my fight! But after another lap or too, I saw them still talking. Now Wes was showing her some new swimming stroke; she was watching enthusiastically, mimicking his movements. Brilliant, I thought, and resumed my laps. Later on, I ran into her in the locker room. "Who *was* that man?!!" she asked. "Well," I said, it's Wes Clark, and he's married! He's also running for president." "Ah," she sighed, "I would vote for him anytime!"
Your pool story reminded me of my childhood years in Redlands and the pleasures of swimming at the Sylvan Plunge, the public pool in Redlands. I was curious if Jim ever swam there…
Jim says, "Of course I swam there!" I have seen the pictures of Jim and his siblings at the pool to prove it!
Deb - I have to share another pool story: this time, the wonderful three-lane pool at the Aspen Institute. This was some years ago... I love to swim first thing in the morning, and usually it's empty, except for one other woman who also showed up at the same time. But this time I had boyfriend along, and we still fit comfortably into the three lanes. Then Wes Clark showed up, so boyfriend and I share a lane, and Wes Clark took the middle. A few more laps, and I peeked up out of the water to hear the woman berating Wes for splashing too hard. I ducked underwater again; not my fight! But after another lap or too, I saw them still talking. Now Wes was showing her some new swimming stroke; she was watching enthusiastically, mimicking his movements. Brilliant, I thought, and resumed my laps. Later on, I ran into her in the locker room. "Who *was* that man?!!" she asked. "Well," I said, it's Wes Clark, and he's married! He's also running for president." "Ah," she sighed, "I would vote for him anytime!"
Wes Clark: what a diplomat! That's a lesson in how to defuse escalating a situation.