FINDING OUR DOOLIE

Over the past six decades, my dad has taught countless children to swim. As a young man he taught swim lessons on the New York "riviera," the beaches just over the border into Long Island from his native Queens. (Think The Flamingo Kid if Matt Dillon ever got in the water). When he became a father of four children he taught us each to swim and later, instructed his 13 grandchildren and many of their little buddies to swim as well. The Talmud, the book of Jewish law, obligates parents to teach their children to swim. My dad has followed the spirit, not just the letter of the law, by teaching so many other people’s children to swim as well. From April to October, he can be found in his bathwater-warm pool, welcoming any and all comers, previous swim experience not required.

My childhood was spent raptly listening to the colorful stories about my dad’s days as a lifeguard in the late 1950’s. One of the funniest tales is that of the “phantom pooper” — the summer one child secretly and repeatedly pooped in the club’s pool. But my absolute favorite story, one which spans an entire summer, tracks my dad’s challenging task of teaching Michael, a child absolutely terrified of the water, to swim.

Michael had experienced some kind of earlier trauma around a pool and he was petrified of the water. As my dad fondly recalls, Michael's first swim lesson took place in the parking lot at the beach club. But week by week, using his signature blend of humor, warmth and determination, my dad inched Michael closer to the pool area. Eventually, after weeks of gentle coaxing, he got Michael as far as sitting on the edge of the pool and putting his feet in the water — a victory unimaginable earlier in the summer. 

Although my dad’s given name is Jules, as a young man he was affectionately referred to as “Big Julie,” which captures both the strength and the kindness he embodies. Michael couldn't say the "j" in Julie so he called my dad "Doolie" instead. By the end of that summer, on the mornings of his swim lessons, Michael could be heard enthusiastically shouting on his proud march from the parking lot to the pool: “Doolie, I’m coming Doolie!!!” The very same parking lot Michael was afraid to leave just weeks earlier had become the place he’d happily abandon in anticipation of his swim lessons with Doolie.

I honestly don’t remember if my dad got Michael to actually swim that summer, because frankly, my dad’s real success wasn’t in teaching Michael to swim. The true wonder of the story is that with patience, encouragement and empathy, my dad helped Michael turn his paralysis into action, his fear into excitement, his hesitance into joy. My dad met this frightened child where he was, literally and figuratively, in order to calmly help him overcome the obstacles in his way. 

If you ask any of my dad’s grandchildren, they will describe in detail what it feels like to be in the pool with Grandpa: clad in a pale blue UV swim shirt, khaki safari hat firmly on his head, spitting chlorine water at them clear across the width of the pool. They will talk about how patient he is (unlike their parents). They will talk about the silly songs he makes up to gently coax them off the pool steps. They will talk about how his wacky facial expressions get them them to laugh until they feel confident enough to dunk under the water. I marvel at my dad's singular ability to help children feel safe enough to overcome their fears. If they want to play catch in the pool, he'll do that. If they want him to judge their cannonballs, he'll do that. If they want someone to applaud a newly acquired stroke, he'll do that. And they might not say it this way, but I will say it for them — when they're in the pool with Grandpa they feel seen, they feel encouraged, they feel understood, without judgement.

We had the privilege of celebrating a milestone birthday with my dad this week and, as we thumbed through old photos, it gave me an opportunity to reflect on what I most admire about him. My dad has worked incredibly hard his entire life and found success along the way, but his accomplishment that moves me more than any other is the story of Doolie -- his getting little Michael into the pool that summer more than 50 years ago. Because what that story represents is my dad's true generosity of spirit, his willingness to meet another human being as they are, with their fears and worries, with their hopes and dreams. To every little kid who has stepped in his pool, my dad is doing so much more than teaching them to swim. He is saying: "I believe in you. Take your time. We'll get there eventually." 

In the coming year, as life resumes, there’s a good chance we will feel what Michael felt that summer — afraid to leave the proverbial parking lot and petrified of the pool. We might feel adrift in our lives, worried we won’t be able to keep ourselves afloat. We might feel hesitant and afraid, unsure of what lies ahead when we let go of the wall. I hope for each of us that we each find our own Doolie, a guide who will meet us where we are, not where we “should be”; a teacher who will lend us grace and humor in the face of our fear; a champion who will make us feel so understood that we will shout their name with joy as we march toward the unknown. 

Vanessa Kroll Bennett is a writer and entrepreneur who helps adults navigate uncertainty while they support the children they love. She is the founder of Dynamo Girl, a company designed to build kids self-esteem through sports, puberty education and parenting seminars. You can subscribe to her Uncertain Parenting Newsletter here and follow Vanessa on Instagram @vanessakrollbennett. She can also be found swimming in the pool with her father, Jules Kroll.