Once Around the Carousel

Chapter One

Linda Stapelton and Sharon MacCalaster first met on Metuchin's Public Beach in July of 1964 - they were eight and ten years old. All the signs of a perfect New England beach day were in place, the scent of salt hung in the air, and only the occasional dollop of cloud interrupted the sun. Two planes flew up the coast towing banners: one advertising Coppertone, and the other, 99 cent fried clam platters. In the water, children splashed while adults drifted on inflatable rafts; and outside the buoyed ropes marking the swimming area, speedboats zipped by pulling water skiers. Linda was playing alone by the water's edge and looked up as a girl sat down beside her, "Hi, my name's Sharon," she said. "Wanna be friends?"

Sharon couldn't believe her luck. It was her first day at the beach, and she'd made a friend who had all the information a kid needs at the beach. Linda knew the best places to build sandcastles, where the ice cream trucks parked, how to tell which ponies on the boardwalk's carousel would give a good ride, and all the best shell-hunting spots.

Linda's family exemplified what vacationers like the MacCalasters referred to as "Townies". Every year, Metuchin's population exploded from 4,000 to 24,000 as Memorial Day passed, and social interactions between locals and visitors carried an edge. The attitude held strongest amongst vacationing adults, dissipating with younger visitors until, at about 16, the feelings reversed. For the townie kids, it was home. They knew the beach, the lifeguards, and the vendors. They were the better swimmers and could get a free jawbreaker from the penny candy store. Of course, it helps when all the stores are owned by some vague sort of relative or friend of your parents who quite possibly changed you a time or two.

Linda quickly saw her new friend had no beach experience. Like most rookies, Sharon had sand everywhere. Her arms, legs, and hair were covered, and several pounds threatened to pull down the bottom of her bathing suit. Linda kept herself virtually free of sand. Instinctively, she rinsed herself as the waves rolled up - a habit she'd developed as a means of survival. For years, Linda had worn metal leg braces, and when they got sand under them, they scratched mercilessly. 1964 marked her first summer of freedom. The doctors still wanted her to wear them; she just couldn't do it any longer. She started 'losing' a strap here and a clip there in the spring, hiding them in a brown cardboard envelope under her mattress. By May, she walked as well with or without them, and her parents, succumbing to their own sense of reprieve, let it be.

As the girls built their kingdom in the sand, nagging thoughts lingered in both their minds. Sharon knew eventually they would be going in the water. She'd only swum in the pool at her family's Country Club in West Hartford, and the breaking surf appeared a little overwhelming. However, a more profound concern haunted Linda. The worst of her scars remained hidden beneath her one-piece bathing suit and denim shorts, and she had yet to get up and walk with the funny hitch-step limp that made her the target of other kids' teasing.

Linda did receive some comfort. When waves came up to where the girls were playing and brushed over them, the Water sensed Linda's apprehension and assured her that Sharon would never tease her. By eight years old, Linda and the Water's relationship was already intensely intimate. From the moment they first met, Linda felt a bond with the Water itself. When they touched, it enveloped her with a warmth that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the kindness she received from its embrace. She felt a connection to the Water, a deep trust. She knew it cared for her intensely, that it cared for her personally.

The Water provided a comfort she never knew on land, and when she swam, it was a thing all her own. As the other kids chopped at the water with spastic stokes, Linda wriggled and swooshed, using her lower torso and legs together. Like a little otter, she moved through the water with a surreal, effortless grace. And when she and the Water wanted her to get somewhere quickly, she possessed the controlled power of an athlete in a flat-out run.