Swimming Down Syndrome

      Let's face it: the Special Olympics has been a boon to the fitness regimen for many disabled folks who would never otherwise get out of the house.  Amanda is no exception.  Over the years, getting her to exercise has taken a considerable amount of coaxing, begging, and strategic thinking on my part.

     But one thing she loves to do is swim.  She actually won several gold medals while competing in Mt Pleasant years ago.  She didn't always fancy the beach, but if given an opportunity, she would rarely turn down a chance to go in a pool.  So when I found out an excerpt from our story, THE NORTH SIDE OF DOWN, would be featured in the BookDaily "Health and Fitness" ezine, this chapter immediately sprang to mind:

      Physical activity was demanding for Amanda.  She didn’t want to take walks with me.  I figured if I weighed over 200 pounds, with bad knees and tiny, flat feet, I wouldn’t want to walk, either.  But she could swim.  Our cousin Denny had a pool at his hotel, and so as summer heated up, that became our ritual.  Best of all, on days when she went swimming, I didn’t make her take a shower.  If the chlorine was heavy, she could just hose off at the pool.  She didn’t have any hair to wash.  I did insist that she shave her armpits.  When I wasn’t around, she had a tendency to let the hair grow.  That was easy enough for me to fix.  If she happened to lift her arm for any reason, exposing armpit hair, I would make the motion of pulling the cord on a lawn mower.           

“Rrrrummm…  Rummm rum rum rum!” I would grab the invisible handle and jounce like I was pushing it.

            She glared at me.  “Knock it off!” 

            But it always worked.  She would shave her armpits.

            She hated the whole shower effort.  “It’s always the same old thing.”

            On our first swim day, she came out of the bathroom wearing her shorts and tank top over a leopard print one-piece. 

            “I had to wrestle my swimming suit to get it on,” she said, sitting down and reaching for her shoes.

            “Okay, I’ll be ready in a sec.” I went in the bathroom and glanced into the bathtub.  On the curve of rusty porcelain near the drain there was a creature about the size of a quarter, with eight tentacles.  I believe the scientific name for it is Lupus Arachnis Horribilis. Being an animal lover, I had no fear of spiders, regardless of their size, but this was a good opportunity to stir things up with Amanda.

The lens case is for size comparison, although I later claimed I had, "dropped my lens case when I realized the brown blob wasn't my false eyelashes!"

 

            "Amanda!" I screeched. "You've got to see this!"

            She must have known what I was yelling about, because she came hobbling in armed with a fly swatter. "I'm gonna swoosh him.”

            I jumped up and down screaming while she swooshed and Lupus ran down the drain. She turned on the faucet. "It's okay Nancy. He's gone. Pull yourself together."

            As we got in the car, I said, “Jeesh, after all that I am gonna need a cola.  Let’s head over to the Northwood.  You can tell Celia’s mom about your conquest.”

            “Celia's mother doesn't own the restaurant anymore,” Amanda said. 

            “She doesn’t?”

            “No.  She said she misses working there.”

            “Who owns it now?”

            “The other owner.”

            We drove on down through the woods to Pins restaurant, turning down the cracked ribbon of pavement to the resort area where the big wooden fence surrounded Denny’s pool.  Til was panting in the back seat.  He jumped out when I opened the door and ran into the woods with his nose down, his plumy white tail waving.  “Hurry up!” I yelled. “Go potty! Hurry up!”

            “Jeesh. Pressure, Nancy. Pressure!”  Amanda said.

            “Well, you don’t want any accidents in the pool, do you?” 

            “Don’t be gross!”

            Til performed his duty and came blasting back, and we walked up to the big, creaky gate and stepped inside.  As I had expected, we were the only ones there.  As Amanda rolled and played in the water, tossing a ball for the elated dog, I watched from the poolside. 

            “Here,” I took a couple of quarters from my pocket and dropped them in, watching as they glinted and flipped to the bottom.  “See if you can find these!”

            She dove, slippery as a seal, her little flat feet pointing and waving up at the wrinkled water’s surface, her hand patting the pool floor all around the quarters.  She was so buoyant that it was taking hard scissor kicks to keep her inverted.  I was thinking I could probably get some muscle tone on her just by dropping things into the pool a few days a week.

            Finally, she came up gasping for breath. 

            “You missed!” I shouted.

            “I know,” she said.

            “Can’t you open your eyes?”

            “I don’t like getting them in the chlorine.  I don’t have my goggles.  Hey, you should come in with me!”

            “Not gonna happen.  You know I don’t swim.”

            “Chicken.  Bawk, bawk buk buk.”

            “That’s right.  And if the ferry ever sinks, you’re under contract to save my sorry cement block ass.”

            “It’s a deal.”  She dove again, patting the bottom and this time I saw her fist close over a quarter.  She surfaced.  “I got it!”

            “Waytago!”

            She swam to the poolside, putting the quarter up by my foot.  “Here’s your change, Nancy.”

            As I bent over to pick it up, I was hit in the side of the face and head with a blast of cold water.  “Hey!”

            I looked up and caught a glimpse of the squirt gun she was aiming at me, just before another shot of water hit me right between the eyes.  “You’re gonna get wet, one way or the other, you rat!” She was roaring laughter, dousing me with rapid bursts of cold spray as I screamed and ducked away.

            “How did you…” I shouted, and then choked as she caught me with another shot square in the mouth.  I had never heard her laugh so hard. 

            “Let me introduce my secret weapon, Nancy!” she shouted.  She was floating upright, bobbing gently in the water like a buoy, her bald head gleaming in the bright sun, pointing the lime green plastic gun at me.

 

Excerpt from, THE NORTH SIDE OF DOWN: A True Story of Two Sisters

By Nancy J. Bailey and Amanda Bailey

Copyright 2014

Today's Project - A Loon for My Dad

"Display on Dark Water", acrylic on canvas, 9x12"

After 87 years on the planet, my dear Dad has left for higher ground.  I am so very sad.  He was a great man, my best buddy and the source of so many good thoughts and conversations.  I will miss him horribly, forever.  It is still so early, and I haven't thought about how I am going to come to terms with this tremendous loss, but I feel every day pulling me farther away from his time here.

This is my firat painting since he's been gone, a fitting one as we often sat out on the deck at camp in the evenings, listening to the loons yodel and howl as they flew over to settle into Bailey's Lake.  It was my favorite part of the days on Drummond.

Dad gave me a great gift in sharing his love for the natural world.  He taught me respect for the earth and for all living things.  When I am walking through the woods I usually see something that I can't wait to tell him about.  I know I will always think of him when I am in the woods.  I hope that, because of this, I will somehow be able to keep him close by.

Native Americans considered the loon the totem of dreams.  To see a loon signifies that you are drawing closer to your dearest hopes and wishes.  Of course, to the mainstream, a loon is a term for crazy -- which at this point in time, is totally accurate.  With the current mess
of characters crawling out of the woodwork, it would have to be loons.

It's either that or vultures.

"Loon Light" acrylic on canvas 9x12", 2012

Bald Eagle, Acrylic

What a tremendous comeback the bald eagle has made! I see families of them often, frequenting the scenic shores of Michigan's eastern Upper Peninsula. This is acrylic on canvas, about 11x15" on canvas.

Splash!

Clifford is enjoying another summer up on Drummond Island. Here is his "oops" moment where he rolled too close to the water's edge when enjoying a sand bath. Cliffy is on tour this summer visiting libraries. He goes right in the library and is a big hit with the kids. He's promoting our summer reading program, "Horse Tales From Around the World". We are teaching a little bit about the history of the horse and kicking some ideas around about how to make the world a better place. You can see Clifford's tour schedule on my website.

Drummond Island Wildlife Print

I did this pen and ink drawing several years ago and it's the first time I ever had people standing in line to buy something from me. Although I prefer this in the original black and white version, everyone seemed to want theirs hand-colored, so I sat there coloring away while they waited patiently.

I have left out a few significant residents on the Island; including some that are special to me like the broad-winged hawk and kingfisher, and timber wolf. But there are always opportunities for future versions.

This is on eBay.

Clifford at the Beach - Sept 2009

Clifford at the Beach from Nancy Bailey on Vimeo.

Clifford and Trudy spend a day romping at the beach on Drummond Island, with Rip and Aunt Vickie and me. Clifford enjoys the sun, sand and the beach grasses, but not nearly as much as he enjoys mugging for the camera!

Hair

A regular social event for Mom and Dad and Amanda is a trip to the hair salon. The salon owner’s dog, Abbey, has known Dad since a puppy and now the minute he walks in the door she starts hitting on him. She wants him to play ball with her. Abbey is a Chesapeake Bay Retriever with a voracious play drive. Dad takes the ball and takes her outside and throws it for her. He also takes Peggy Sue, the Jack Russell, out for a potty break and sweeps up the floor!

Trudy the Imp!

Last night we rode out to Reva’s Lake. It was Airatude’s turn to run loose and as she trotted along with us, I remembered a trick she had pulled on Dad just a couple of days prior.

The horses love Dad. He lets them out of the corral to roam at will together, and they are good about staying around. That morning, however, Trudy took off down the road. Dad yelled and hollered. “Trudy! You get back here!” He walked down the road after her and picked up a branch, shaking it. Trudy came back and did three full circles around the camp in a mad gallop.

“You settle down now!” he scolded.

She ran down the road again and disappeared.

Dad began to mutter under his breath as he set off after her. From my vantage point out the camper window, I could see Trudy, standing among the cedars right in front of his pickup truck. Because she is so dark, she was nearly invisible. She didn’t move. She was watching him with her ears up and it was perfectly clear that she was hiding on him. His eyes are still keen though, and with a hard look that way he spotted her. He started laughing. “Why you little devil!”

She was busted. She came out, head down, resigned, and walked up to him.

I often wonder how animals seem to understand camouflage so well.

Back on Drummond

I walked Ripple down to my shore lot yesterday. It was the first time I’ve been down there since the fourth of July. I walk and walk two miles to get there and then there is always a certain white rock that I sit on, which is right by the water. It has a smooth top and even a little shelf where I can rest my camera. I can put my feet in the water if I want to. The rock, of course, has been there since the beginning of time. It’s about the size of a large footstool.

Anyway, yesterday, I came down, and….. NO ROCK!!!!

I thought I might be losing my mind at first. I looked around just in case I had come to the wrong spot. But after 16 years of walking down here and sitting on this thing, well. …. I know where it was.

I think Vickie and I sat on it. I will have to check my Facebook page.

Anyway it had to be quite an effort to get it out of there. Of course, I am livid! Whoever took it came onto private property, and this is theft.

Drummond is loaded with rocks. But there is nothing close to this one that would really serve as a replacement.

Rode Trudy to the beach yesterday too. I will try to post photos to my blog later. That was another disturbing thing – I haven’t been there in four years, since before Scorch died. They have dredged it out or something, and all that wonderful hard, clean sand has been replaced by muck and swamp grass.

People are idiots!!!! I could scream.

The horses, however, had fun anyway.

Clifford of Drummond Island

It's been four years since Clifford and Trudy have visited the Drummond camp. This is temporary home for them until I find a more permanent solution to their displacement. Yesterday upon arrival they took a moment to look around before stepping out of the trailer.


Upon being released from the trailer, they both march directly into the corral.


They walk around checking things out, and then immediately they each drop and roll.


Their obvious comfort is a comfort to me.


So we returned to my mother land; the land of deep forests...


...of varied wildlife...


...of wooded islands...


...of tiny flowers...


...of ancient mariners...


...of rock and cedar.


The animals and I face the future, but we don't know what lies ahead.

Photos courtesy of Vickie Sheathelm.