Bliss, Remembered by Frank Deford Page A

the Lord works in wondrous ways. Maybe it was good that I didn’t have time to sit around and get all nervous. I didn’t even realize I’d left my bathing cap in the locker room. It was all happening so fast. I just jumped into the pool and took my position. There were six of us. The other five girls all seemed to know each other. And the gun went off, and I just pushed off and won easily. Piece o’ cake.
    “You whipped their asses.”
    Yes, I did—but I think we’ve beat that dead horse enough. In fact, there was a great flurry of excitement because my time was so fast. You’ve got to understand, the pool in Chestertown was just a regular old pool. This one at Rittenhouse Square was built more for competition. It created less waves and all that. So I swam faster than ever before.
    “What was your time, Mom?”
    Oh, I don’t remember exactly, and it gets all confusing because we swam most of our races in yards, and already back then, the races in the whole rest of the world were meters. The Olympics was all meters—and, of course, like most Americans I didn’t know a meter from Adam. Be that as it may, I think I did the hundred yards in about a minute and thirteen, maybe twelve-five. That was lickety-split for that crowd.
    So Mom and Carter and Mr. Foster were all congratulating me when the meet director came bustling over and pulled me away for the victory ceremony. It wasn’t much, just me and the girls who finished second and third stood there by the diving board. They both had their school sweatshirts on. I just had a towel around my shoulders. And then, suddenly, out of the blue, this beautiful little young woman materialized with the ribbons. It was just ribbons, no cups or anything. But I was thrilled. And she gave out the yellow and the red, and then she handed me the blue ribbon, and I thanked her.
    I was already grown to my full height, Teddy. I think I’ve shrunk a little now, but I was about five-six, and I was taller than she was, even though she had heels on. She was really snappy, though, very fashionable, in a tailored worsted suit, and just absolutely gorgeous. I could see Carter even stopped looking at all the cute boys in their bathing suits to check her out. We didn’t encounter that sort of style down on the Shore. I shook her hand, and I thought that was that, till she pulled me aside and said, “How long you been swimming, honey?”
    “Oh, I don’t know, I guess all my life.”
    She shook her head a little. She had a sort of a bob cut, very stylish then. Brown hair. “No, I mean how long competitively?”
    “Oh,” I said, thinking back to Easton. “Since Labor Day.”
    “You mean this last Labor Day? That’s all?”
    “Yeah. I just took it up.”
    “I was wondering why I never heard of you.” Then after she lit a cigarette with a long holder, like the one President Roosevelt used, she asked me, “How old are you?”
    “Sixteen. Well, I turn seventeen next month.”
    “You started swimming late.”
    “I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know when you’re supposed to start.”
    It was probably a pretty stupid thing to say. I was so naïve. The woman laughed, but it was a nice laugh, not mocking. “Well, most of us start younger. I won my first Nationals when I was thirteen.”
    That rocked me. “No foolin’?”
    “No foolin’.” She paused then. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”
    “I’m sorry. Am I supposed to?”
    “Well, they introduced me earlier, but I guess you weren’t here.”
    “We just got up from the Eastern Shore.”
    “Oh,” she said. It was apparent she didn’t have the foggiest where the Eastern Shore was, but she let that go and just stuck out her hand. “Well, I’m Eleanor Holm . . . Jarrett.”
    “Hi. I’m Trixie Stringfellow.”
    “Well, Trixie, I’m the world record holder in the hundred-meter backstroke. I won the Olympics in ’32.”
    “You did? What are you doing here?”
    That was another stupid question, but she only