Saved by the Belle
It
seems sexism is running rampant in the news these days, and I regret
to say that I too, am guilty of some sexist attitudes at times. In
this story, I hope to offer my apologies for my past behavior and
pledge to try to mend my ways in the future.
Just
for the fun of it, before we departed for the beach one summer, I
taught my grandson Nick, some not-so-discrete hand signals. The
signals rated how the girls presented themselves as they passed by
along the shoreline in their bathing suits.
Important
start
Rule
one for Nick was to always sport sunglasses. This way, the passersby
did not realize the true direction or target onto which the observer
was locking his radar. This practice was also meant to keep the
ladies in our family in the dark as to what we were attempting to do.
This is just another example of a widely used, pathetic practice
when it comes to a man’s position regarding the opposite sex.
**Warning, all males! The ladies never were or never will be fooled
by this juvenile exercise involving sunglasses.
We
had all the scoring possibilities covered. First, we used a
combination of thumbs-up or thumbs-down. Then, followed by individual
fingers, (indicating a scale from zero to ten), we could alert other
interested guys in the family as to who was passing by in our line of
vision. Very mature, was it not?
The
system was quickly adopted by my son, sons-in-law, and nephew Matt.
My brother-in-law Mac was the most genuinely mature guy (and probably
the most intelligent) in the party and he wanted nothing to do with
the practice.
Gals
vs guys
The
ladies in the family, which included my wife, daughters,
daughter-in-law, granddaughters, sister-in-law, niece, and Matt’s
girl friend, Megan, didn't appreciate the fact that Pappy was
explaining his not-so-subtle techniques to an eight year old boy.
But I felt it was all in fun, and that it wasn’t hurting anyone.
Boy, was I wrong!
The
signaling continued for about three or four days, and one by one the
guys lost interest. That may have been due to the fact that my
signals rivaled a life guard's display during a potential crisis in
the water. Totally embarrassed by my theatrical techniques, most of
the guys eventually wanted no part in it and just shook off my flashy
demonstrations.
In
troubled waters
Now
remember, this old grandfather has two artificial heart valves and
wears both a pacemaker and a defibrillator. Also, I can barely walk
on dry land with my two non-functional knees, let alone battle
crashing waves and an undertow in the surf.
But
would I let that stop me from entering that water? No way!
Becoming
just a tad too confident one morning, I ventured into the waves a
little further than I usually did, and soon found myself being pulled
out into the deep. I was literally over-my-head in water and losing
my breath quickly. I waved frantically to my family standing in the
sand on the shoreline, trying to get their attention.
I
swear I was not using any of the signals from my repertoire
concerning gals on the beach, yet my son-in-law, grandson and nephew
looked up and down the beach in bewilderment. They apparently were
looking for an awe-inspiring pedestrian within their sight.
I
continued to wave frantically, but my-son-in law just shrugged his
shoulders with a what are you talking about gesture.
He then waved back at me in disgust. And
my grandson just stood there, wearing
his sunglasses, with a huge
grin on his face.
I tried signaling again,
making a huge circle with my arms, indicating I needed the inflatable
inner tube they had in their possession. This was not easy to do
while treading water and tired me even more.
Again, I received no
indication that they understood my situation. As my endurance
dwindled, I could only image how the boy who cried wolf felt. All
these signals I was using for three days, and the men (in the
village) and on the shore just ignored me when I needed them most.
Meanwhile, I was getting
further and further away from the shore line, in deeper and deeper
water, and in more dire straits. I thought I was done. And I could
just hear the women retorting upon learning of my passing, “Good
for him.”
In
the nick of time
Just then, Megan (my nephew's
girlfriend) grabbed the inflated tube and came running, then
swimming, out toward me. After she tossed the tube to me, (being a
very athletic girl in her own right), she was able to tread water and
return safely to the beach on her own. Odd was the fact that the
undertow didn’t affect her much at all.
I eventually recovered enough
energy to where I could gradually paddle into more shallow water. My
wife had not yet arrived on the beach, so I begged Megan not to tell
her what happened, but with the guys now finally realizing what just
transpired, it was only a matter of minutes until she became aware of
my mishap.
How ironic that it was that a
member of the fairer sex saved this old sexist pappy. Thank the Good
Lord too, that Megan paid no attention to those hand signal classes
taught earlier in the week. Otherwise, she may very well have
shrugged off the distress signs and left me to succumb to the surf.
I was literally and
figuratively “saved by the belle.” And I pledge to never again
use the fair gender as a spectacle for my amusement - well, at least
not at the beach, but maybe while I’m watching Dancing With the
Stars.
