Pool Man

My pool guy is a waifish Tujungan saint. He wears a gigantic, stoic wedding band on his left hand (I know wedding bands can't really be stoic but I swear this one takes it's job very seriously). I got his name, Greg, from the last owner of my house. I used to shoot the breeze with Greg, ask him all kinds of pooly questions, thinking I could eventually clean the pool myself. I was wrong. A pool is a beast you don't want to mess with. Right after I bought the house, I discovered the pool had a leak in it. Greg taught me a trick using a bucket to figure out how big the leak was, then he gave me the number of a reputable pool repair man. Pool got fixed, I learned a lot, done.

Then one Tuesday he didn't show up. I was like, what's the dealio, where's my Pool Guy. It's Tuesday and I don't want my pool to turn green. When you first own a pool, you're paranoid like that. So I think I called him and left a few messages. But I didn't see him until the next week.

It was cold out the following Tuesday. When I saw him, Greg had water all down the front of his sweatshirt and shorts from cleaning the pool. I asked him how he was. He said he was freezing. He stood there by the stubby January rose bushes and shivered a little. Then he apologized for missing the week before and for not calling back. He explained that his son had been in the hospital with LEUKEMIA. Oh ghad. Suddenly my jack ass pool seemed stupid and ridiculous and I didn't care if it turned green any more. The man looked tired and small.

After that Tuesday I took to hiding out in the house when he came by. Instead of going out to talk to him about algae as usual, I'd skulk around like a coward, getting ready for work with the curtains drawn. My fear was that the worst had happened and that his son had died. My fear was that I'd say, "How is your son?" and he would say, "My son is dead".

I was 22 when my mom died of cancer, and when she was dying I thought, "why aren't people talking about this with me? I'm never going to be afraid to talk about illness or death after this". And now check me out, years later. All of that clarity and fire, the truth about death and dying and love has grown a filmy cataract. I've become afraid again.

It's Sunday night. Greg comes to clean the pool the day after tomorrow. I can continue to hide or I can talk to him. I don't want to live my life with fear trumping my empathy for people. So I won't.

Compassion replenishes the spirit of the receiver and the giver.