I'm Not Here Right Now

In April 2006, my employer, Nokia, sent me to a weeklong training session. The final module of the session was a wellness and fitness seminar. It was largely lost on me -- some new age music, low lightning, and some breathing lessons. Some of my fellow trainees fell asleep during one of the exercises. The instructor informed us of how important it is to find some quiet time during the day just to chill out. It's hard to do at work, he acknowledged, but maybe just put your head down at your desk, or even find a dark room to shut your eyes for 20 minutes.

He mentioned that he had heard stories of how his grandmother, who had been a mother of some six or eight children, was at heart an introvert, and needed just some ten minutes or so each afternoon to get some quiet to recharge her batteries. She would sit on a chair in the kitchen, throw her apron up over her face and head, and sit 'alone' and 'in the dark.' Meanwhile, a half dozen boisterous children would continue to revolve around her, playing, shouting, mewling. Everyone understood that when mother was under the hood, no one was to touch her or speak to her or ask her any questions. She would be back shortly, and all would be well. She just needed her ten minutes of solace.

After the training ended, I flew from Dallas to Houston to spend the weekend with my brother John and his family. Saturdays in April at the Mahons of Houston is swim meet day.

We get up early (for a Saturday) around 6:30, and we need to set up camp by 7:00 a.m. Camp means a 10x10 canopy, under which are placed blankets and towels and chairs and coolers. The pool area is generous, but real estate goes pretty quick on meet days, so it is important to arrive as early as you can. John packs up his massive SUV with all the stuff, and the kids and I tote most of the gear from the car to the pool. Everyone -- including young Emily and not-as-little-as-he-ought-to-be Jack -- pull their weight, and we set up.

One thing is painfully missing -- coffee. John is not a coffee drinker. Did I complain? Did I mention something? I don't remember doing so. Yet, Kyle seemed to have a keen sense of my deprivation. As I was setting up the canopy with John, Kyle approached me: "Uncle Andrew," he said (it always touches me when the nephews call me that, instead of Uncle Christopher or Uncle Raymond), "would you like me to get you a cup of coffee?"

I was stunned and charmed. How did he know? And what child would be so aware and attentive to make the offer? Well, once we had the place set up, I accepted Kyle's offer and walked over to the snack bar where they had doughnuts and breakfast burritos and coffee. As we ordered, Kyle explained to the ladies at the counter that I was his uncle. Not only that, he pulled out his wallet and paid for my coffee! I beamed at the volunteer staff, touched to be taken care of so dearly. Did they notice what a wonderful boy Kyle is?

The registration process is a fascinating study in efficiency and understanding. Each child is in several events, perhaps four or five or six. The events are all recorded on a laptop, and each child's event list is printed out for the parent. Of course, paper lists can get lost or soaked, so the staff instead prints the events on Avery labels -- one event per label. And the parents stick them onto their t-shirts, upside down, which makes them ingeniously readable just by glancing down at one's chest. As each event passes, the parent simply strips that sticker off.

Also, each event, logically enough, has a number. That way, it is easy to keep track of the stickers on your shirt as the events tick away during the day. There were about 80 events.

But it gets better! To help the kids all keep track of their own events (not to mention freeing the parents from constantly fielding questions from children anxious to know when their event is coming up), the races are all printed with indelible marker on each child's hand! Amazing. They just glance down at their hand, and there they see their three events: 10 relay, 22 freestyle, 40 backstroke. Brilliant!

I was so impressed. The day ran swiftly and without long delays. The kids would get called up to their events well ahead of event time, so that there were always three or four groups of children "on deck" getting ready to race.

After the registration was all finished (not to mention my lone cup of coffee), Kyle again offered to procure me a cup of joe. I accompanied him to the snack bar, and this time I insisted on paying, and maybe getting him a breakfast burrito. Such attentiveness from an 11-year old.

And, now, to the races. Jack, of course, swims with abandon, attacking the water and leaving a wake behind him. You can see in the photo here that he has a killer dive. Note that the swimmer two pedestals to his left is still standing, while Jack has launched himself so headlong into the air that he has already begun to exit the frame! I was never able to get another shot of him with his entire body in the picture.
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Emily, I was told, has not quite perfected her dive. However, to my eye, she has developed an impressive style.




And then there is handsome young Patrick, who bears a more than a passing resemblance to Michelangelo's David. I had to sneak a few shots of him to show his Aunt Liz, and he obliged -- neither a ham, nor annoyingly camera shy. Good kid. Of course, his pals expressed some alarm that some weird guy (did they say "old guy?") kept taking pictures of him (and them) in their Speedos. "Oh, that's my uncle." "What's he going to do, sell them on the Internet?" I'll refrain from posting any of his mates' photos.

Meanwhile, Kyle did not have any early events, so he kept me company on one of the chaise lounge chairs until it was his time. When his race was called, he headed over to the on deck tables. I kept an eye open for when his group was up. As I was looking, a young girl about 12 years old walked over to me. "Mr. Mahon?" she inquired. "Kyle said to tell you that he will be in lane 5."

How do you like that? I mean, I was already completely aware that he was going to be in lane 5, and I was getting ready to take his picture. Such a warm feeling to know that he wanted the attention.

"Mr. Mahon? Kyle asked me to tell you that he will be in Lane 1." :-)

"Mr. Mahon? Kyle asked me to tell you that he will be in Lane 1 again."

After each event, Kyle came back over to me and we shared the chaise lounge until the next event. After his final race, I asked if he was hungry, and we got a burger or something, which he ate. And then, Kyle was done.

I mean, he was done. He grabbed a towel, threw it over his head, and lay back in the chair. The races continued, the kids were all shouting and splashing, the whistles blew, the announcer called out the next events on the squawk box, and conversations were held around the chairs. But Kyle was not there. He had gone to his own quiet space.

He'd have liked that fitness and wellness class.