The Green caldron - University Library

The Green Caldron
to the problem of the name was simple. The name was changed to Gifts Day
and everyone was happy. Our holidays are now all arranged in such a manner
that they fall on week-ends, are evenly spaced, and are not cluttered with all
that useless trivia of tradition— quite an improvement.
TOMMY
Strong Will Conquers
Nancy Cohernour
Rhetoric loi, Theme 12
WAS A SMALL BOY FOR HIS EIGHT YEARS, BUT
he had the irrepressible will that comes from struggling to overcome
disease. I met this polio-stricken boy one summer day when his mother
brought him to the public beach for swimming lessons. As a swimming in-
structor, I was giving private lessons to all age groups at the lake. Mrs. Fisher,
Tommy's mother, inquired about lessons for her son and then stated, "I hope
you can teach Tom to swim. I know he will work hard for you."
Well, Tom's work was to prove his mother's statement. Never in my life
have I seen a child so bent on learning. His span of attention was unbelievable.
I can well remember drilling and drilling him until I thought his whole form
would take on the withered appearance of his tiny left leg. He never complained.
Along with other exceptions I made for him, I permitted him to call me by
my first name. By and by, we became great friends, and it wasn't uncommon
to see me, a lifeguard, and the small boy, hand in hand. We often took rowboat
rides, sunned together on the dock, or just built castles out of sand.
I learned great things from Tommy Fisher. I was aware of human compassion
every time we were together because he was an example to me of what
life—in essence compounded of disease, doctors, care, prayers, time, love
can do for one so young. We talked often and quite seriously, and sometimes
we discussed his affliction. For an eight-year-old, Tommy was certainly grasp-
ing for graces in life which some adults never achieve. His attitude of accept-
ance overwhelmed me. I hate to remember shouting, "One—two—kick—kick
one—two—kick—kick !" I shouted until my voice broke from strain, and then
I'd say, "Hey, little man, let's take a rest." Tommy always answered, "O.K.
I know it will be a long time before I learn how to swim, Nancy." I replied,
"Not long, Tom." He accepted my confidence and worked through many hard
hours for days and weeks. I sometimes thought those hours were just as hard
for me, in a way, to see his twisted form laboring. But, early in August, I
rejoiced to hear his squeal when he took his first strokes.
Yes, Tom learned to swim. My heart held such joy for him when he lifted
his head and said, "Someday I'll be a good swimmer." I knelt to answer him,
"You won't be the best, my dear, but you'll be good." I thought I understood.
But somehow, my feeling seemed shallow as I looked over on the beach to
where Mrs. Fisher was sittine.
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