I a great swimmer. I was a starter on the Varsity team when I was in 9th grade. I had both swimming and life saving badged in scouts. I earned the Red Cross Water Safe Instructor ranking. The day of my final test for Red Cross Life Saver, I got my nose broken twice.
The main beach at White Bear Lake is a wide stretch of white sand and clear water. A chain link fence and gate secured the beach during off hours. Threw the gate, you walked down a long set of stairs to the beach house, restrooms and dock. I was and is a beautiful place to swim. I had taken all the classed to become a certified life guard. I only need to pass the final swim and rescue.
I lived a couple miles away and the test was scheduled for a time just before the beach opened to the public that day. I got up early and rode my bike to the beach. I locked my bicycle in the bike and climbed over the fence. I was the first one there. The sun was up but not providing much heat yest. I paced a bit, just a little nervous. Up at by the fence, two boys about my age looked at me as they walked. One of them raised his arm and stuck up his middle finger. At that time I had no idea what that hand signal meant, but in my gut I felt it probably wasn’t a show of friendship.
I held up my hand, giving the symbol back.
The boys climbed the fence and came down the steps. They didn’t have swimsuits on. Both had jeans and white T-shirts. The taller of the two had a pack of cigarettes under a fold of his short sleeve. The other boy had moved, unnoticed, behind me.
The boy with the cigarette pack said, “let’s try this again,” and gave me the finger.
Still not knowing what it meant, I gave him the finger back.
Behind me, the other kid grabbed my arms. We struggled a bit but II was pinned, Cigarette boy doubled his fist, held his arm back and said, “This is going to hurt.”
BAM He hit me in the nose. The boy behind me let go. I doubled over, blood dripping making red circles on the white sand. Both boys ran. They headed down the beach toward the boat launch, where there was no hill and fence.
I went down to the lake and cupped my hand with water and splashed it on my nose. I had to do it a couple times before the bleeding stopped.
“Hey Blumer. You’re early,” the head lifeguard and instructor called from up above as he unlocked the gate. “Ready for the test? You should be training me! No way you couldn’t pass.”
He unlocked the beach house, went in and came back out with a clipboard. We don’t need to wait for the others.” He looked up. “What the … Are you okay?”
“Yup, I dink do.”
“Hey man. What happened to your nose.”
I looked at my reflection in the beach house window. My nose was smashed over to one side and there was still lots of dried blood on my face. “Two eyes mumped me. I took a munch.”
“You’re nose looks broke. You better go home. I’ll mark that you passed. You would anyway. Go!”
I jogged up the steps, got my bike and rode home. Mom was in the kitchen. She asked, “Are you all right?”
I nodded. Mom grabbed the car keys told me to get in the car. We drove to town and went into Dr. Peterson’s office. The nurse and my mom both twisted my head back and forth, checking both sides. The nurse brought out a little pan and a moist towel. Mom held my head still while the nurse cleaned my face.
We had to sit in the waiting room for half an hour before Dr. Peterson could examine me. He had me sit on this long high green bench with a long sheet of white paper covering the top.
“Well, it is broken,” he said. “Lay down on your side, with your cheek against the paper. Hold him still,” he said to the nurse.
She held my head. Dr. Peterson placed both his thumbs along my nose. He rose up on his tows, hunched his shoulders and straightened his arms. “Now,” he said to the nurse. He pushed hard.
Snap, crunch, crackle.
If I had been alone, I probably would have yelled. My eyes watered. The Dr. and nurse both stood back. I did a fast sit up and let out my held breath.
“We’re not done yet. Almost,” he said and grabbed a roll of white tape. He tore off a strip and held it up. “Don’t flinch,” he said and put it across my nose. “A done. Don’t let him get in any more fights for at least a month, Katherine,” he said to my mom.
On the drive back home, mom grilled me for all the details of what had happened. When I showed he my fist with my middle finger up, she grabbed my hand and shoved it down onto the car seat. “That’s not really very nice she said. I don’t want you doing that. I’s worse than swearing. I think you should take a nap when we get home.
“I can later,” I said. “I’m going to ride my bike back to the beach. Dave, my instructor, said he was going to pass me, but I want to take the test anyway.”
“No!” mom scolded. “No swimming for a month. No beach for a month. Yes, nap.”
“It’s like you’re punishing me and I’m the one who got hit.”
I had to take that nap. Dr. Peterson had given me some pills for pain. I think they made me sleepy. I actually didn’t feel like doing much but read the rest of that afternoon.
When dad got home from work, mom filled him in. Dad examined me, the told me I was tough and would live. Then he told me to come with him out to the garage.
“Oh, oh,”
In his younger days dad had been a Golden Gloves boxer. He didn’t have his old trophies on display, but I knew he had some. Grandpa told me about some of the bouts. Grandma had one of the trophies.
Out in the garage, dad said, “Okay, I’m just going to show you some basic moves.”
“But dad, the other guy had my arms pinned behind my back.”
“That doesn’t matter. Here,” he said. He took one of my wrists and positioned my right arm, then the left. He doubled his fists and started fake punches. He’d hit one of my hands, then the other. I just held still. He fake punched again, but misjudged the distance between his fist and my nose.
CRACK!
“Oh shit!” he said.
I stumbled backward and fell.
“Get in the car,” he said ran into the house. When he came out, mom was behind him. No one said anything until I spoke. “I guess we’re both in trouble,” I said, looking at my mom in the front seat.
“Don’t even start!” my mom said. “Apparently both my husband and my son are idiots!”
“But I …”
“Quiet,” mom said cutting me off.
In Dr. Petersons office he smiled and shook his head. I told your mom no fighting for a month. What happened?”
“Um, I tipped,” I said.
“Ha!” mom said. “Only if.”
“You know the drill,” Dr. Peterson said.
I nodded reluctantly and hopped up on the green table.
The nurse held me. Dad looked away.
CRUNCH SNAP
My eyes watered again. The nurse used a tissue to dry my face. Dr. Peterson gave me a new strip of tape.
“Done for now. See you again tomorrow?” the Dr. asked.
“Not funny,” mom said and marched me and dad out.
As the only boy among five sisters, I normally had to cut the grass, take out trash, and do lots of other chores. Dad felt sorry for me or for himself. I’m not sure witch. He made my sisters do the grass and other chores. After about two weeks of vacation, the tape came off, I cut the grass, and mom gave me a kiss.
