Diving, Not Bored

It is Friday Night Splash, June 13, and 30 kids wait inside bathrooms and under awnings at the Childs Park pool for a storm to pass. The kids are not leaving until they get their $2 worth.

Deangelo Edwards, 9, and his cousin Keenan Wynn, 10, head straight for the diving board.

“Do you want to see the 'roadblock'?” Keenan asks.

Dee joins in on the game.

“Skip-to-the-lou-lou.”

“Gangster stretch.”

“The cannonball twister.”

Dee’s favorite move is the front flip because he can “see the world twisting.”

“Two-legged shake,” one of them proposes.

The Childs Park pool, at 1227 43rd St. S., stands on what was once the neighborhood’s largest drug corner, but big bright umbrellas are now the dominant feature and the pool, not drugs, is the biggest attraction. Supervisor Lynn Russ, called Miss Lynn by the staff, says her pool is more than a child-care center, but she is willing to give her swimmers, mostly children, the supervision they need during the summer.

“Pass the ball to your partners,” R.C. Williams tells his two sons and two nephews on Saturday afternoon, trying to teach them how to play water basketball.

The night before, Williams took the four boys to the movies. On their way home, they passed a group of teen-agers hanging out on the streets at night.

“I said, ‘Boy, don’t you think about that,’” Williams says.

The former drug corner isn't stopping this pool from thriving. Miss Lynn says she hasn’t had any problems at the pool -- no fist fights, no fence cutting, no vandalism. She has had some angry parents. The pool requires kids under the age of 8 to be accompanied by an adult. “The 12-year-old is not responsible for the 8-year-old, and the 8-year-old is not responsible for the 2-year-old,” Miss Lynn says she tells parents. “You’re the parent so please come in.”

Victor Martinez, 3, and his cousin Cedric Gage, 5, are shaking from the cold on the first step of the wading pool they won’t venture into, and they’re too scared to try out the toys that rain water from oversized blue, purple and green umbrellas.

“He doesn’t really like to swim,” says Betsy Martinez, Victor’s mother. Martinez, who works during the day and takes college courses at night, has just arrived at the pool.

As Cedric starts to explore the deeper steps, Victor follows along.

Deangelo Edwards, 9, is too sick Saturday to go swimming, but he is well enough to give his cousin Keenan Wynn, 10, sarcastic commentary from the sidelines.

“I know your stomach hurts,” he says after one of Keenan’s dives.

“Oh” is all he can say when one of the other kids makes a nice jump.

“Keenan, you don’t swim right,” he says, while keeping his eyes on the next diver.

The lifeguards could be described as professional babysitters trained in CPR and first aid, Miss Lynn says, but if the kids didn’t come, the lifeguards wouldn’t have jobs.

Lifeguard Brian Brown, 32, says he has heard children say they want to be lifeguards after they see the guards in action.

“We’re pretty much disciplinarians here,” Brown says. “They come off the streets and think they can do whatever they want. But it’s a different story once you’re in the pool. Those same guys who gave me problems slap me five now.”
The lifeguards make $8.32 an hour. Paul Gaines, 16, went from McDonald’s to the pool, a job Miss Lynn says is open to the guards every summer.

“They took my moves,” Dee says.

He already has two new dives ready for Sunday when he will be well enough to swim, he says.

“Cripple walk and chop chop chiop.”

When asked why he likes the pool, Dee says, “I might be a professional swimmer.”