Recalling being a lifeguard and other summer jobs

I’ve been thinking back to all the summer jobs I had — partly because one of my summer jobs has been in the news lately.

There is a lifeguard shortage. This isn't a just Jacksonville story. It isn't even a new story. But this summer it's a bigger issue than in recent years. CBS News reported that about half of the nation's 309,000 public pools may be forced to stay closed or reduce hours because of a lack of lifeguards.

I spent a summer, quite a few decades ago, working as a lifeguard. It isn't as easy as people often think — particularly, I imagine, in the Florida heat — but there are worse summer jobs.

I had a few of them.

One summer, I worked the graveyard shift at a paper mill in Wisconsin.

I can still picture punching that time clock and then watching the clock seemingly go into slow motion. I was mainly in the part of the mill where big rolls of construction paper spooled off a metal rod into a machine that cut the paper into sheets.

Once a roll was empty, I had to carry the rod to a nearby stand, clearing the way for a forklift operator to put on a new roll. It was kind of like replacing giant rolls of toilet paper — if the tube in the middle weighed about 300 pounds.

OK, I’m exaggerating. But when I dropped one on my foot, even with steel-toed boots, it felt like it weighed that much.

But my most vivid memory of that job is from waking up most mornings, coughing, and being able to tell from what I hacked up what color construction paper had been running the night before, apparently filling the air (and my lungs) with dust of that color.

I’m assuming things have changed since then. It didn't seem healthy to do that for a summer. And I remember being well aware that some of my co-workers were there for much longer. I remember how they looked at us summer employees with disdain. Or at least that's how it felt then. Now I see it differently.

Another summer I did construction work. I was probably the lightest person on the construction site. I also had to do probably the heaviest manual labor. I was always envious of whoever got to hold the "STOP/SLOW" sign.

Another summer I briefly had the only job I’ve been fired from. It was door-to-door fundraising for a group that lobbied in the state capital. I lasted about a week. I still don't like to do fundraising.

Another summer I worked maintenance at a hospital, mostly painting and sweeping.

All of these still might have been better than having no job — because that only meant Dad was going to line up all kinds of jobs for me to do around the house. And those jobs really didn't pay.

One summer, I helped him redo our roof. Another summer, we dug up the backyard, attempting to fix something related to the septic tank system. That made me miss the paper mill.

My best summer job? That one is pretty easy. It has to be the summer I spent working for the Appleton Foxes, then a Class A minor-league affiliate of the Chicago White Sox.

I worked at a souvenir stand behind the first-base grandstand. Even though I could only see a sliver of the field, I loved being at the ballpark, listening to the game on a transistor radio, eating food that co-workers snuck over to us, killing slow time by thumbing through yearbooks and media guides, and every so often catching a glimpse of one of the crazy promotions (Used Car Night!) or even some of the game.

The one drawback to that job: It only paid $5. Not per hour. Per game.

That's why I took a job at the city pool. I had to start in the locker room, handing out metal baskets. The next summer I was a lifeguard. At an indoor pool at the Y. Mostly watching seniors swim laps or helping teach kids to swim.

"Baywatch" it wasn't. But it was a good job, one I look back at fondly now.

Come to think of it, I now have fond memories of almost all of my summer jobs. And I know I’m not alone. You want to get someone to wax nostalgically? Ask them about their summer jobs.

I think some of it's not so much the jobs, but the memories of being a teenager, not worrying about rent or kids. Just worrying about having enough money to put a couple of gallons of gas in the car and go out on a Friday.

The way things in journalism have been going lately, one lifeguard story in particular caught my eye.

Colorado Public Radio reported that in Denver, they’ve taken a somewhat unusual approach to the shortage. They’re hiring older people to be lifeguards.

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