We have waterpark season passes for our 3rd summer. Yesterday we met my spouse at the waterpark when he got off work. It was a great way to live through the 110+ temperatures. It felt downright cool as we floated around the lazy river, bobbed in the wave pool, and sped down slides. We also felt the heat as we stood in line for those slides, and we saw the smoke from a nearby vegetation fire. By the time we left, there was ash falling on us. I checked. That fire is now out.
Two things stood out for me at the waterpark.
1) We were trying to get into the lazy river. They discourage people from congregating around the steps and blocking the entrance waiting for tubes, so I was trying to hustle the kids in, but there was some small commotion and much blocking. A woman was just in the river, blocking the entrance, messing with a tube, and I couldn’t tell what she was trying to do as she pushed the tube further onto the steps, making it impossible to navigate. I looked over at the lifeguard with an appeal on my face (I’m sorry we’re standing here on the steps; we’re trying to get in), and then I looked down, and about three teenagers, goofing and joking in the water seconds before as they tried to get out were steadying the tube so the woman could climb onto it. They held it for her, helped her launch into the river, and went on their way, teasing each other a little, embarrassed about this intimate act of kindness. They saw what needed to be done and did it.
2) Kristin writes about the welcoming statement her church council has approved. She wonders this:
As I reflect on this statement of welcome, I think about how easy it seems to welcome LGBTQ members of the community–but to genuinely welcome people with mental issues that are presenting in disruptive ways? That might be harder.
We were standing in line for the water slide, clumsily holding big double tubes. The teenage boy behind us, maybe 15, tall, a little awkward, was clearly developmentally different. He was not with a parent, though responsible adults were around, and he was eventually joined by a younger boy. He was loud, excited, and inquisitive. He shouted down the tower at people he was with to ask questions and let them know where he was, and to get the attention of the boy who eventually joined him. He told them he had a green raft. Several times. Every few minutes, He asked us how many people were in line ahead of us, and then counted aloud for himself and agreed with our number. He called out to every lifeguard we passed as we climbed several levels to the higher slides, “I’m doing slide 7 this time.” “I have a green raft!” He prodded people, loudly, when they didn’t notice a space in the line and move forward. I only describe this to say that everyone was fine. The lifeguards gave him thumbs up and encouraging words. The people in line answered questions and chatted with him. No one needed to be hovering over him or taking care of him, and it seemed everybody was watching out for him. After we had slid down, while the girl child and I were waiting for the boys, I watched his grown-ups waiting for him, camera at the ready to capture a picture. I could see his behavior being disruptive in some situations, and I wonder how the collective we would react then, but in a waterpark during a heatwave, everyone was able to be the loosely knit community that one becomes standing in long, awkward lines waiting together for a few seconds of excitement.
The local waterpark on a Monday afternoon during a heatwave. It was a good place to be.