Pool_1

All hell broke loose and even Frank couldn't control his own laughing to bring order, until, finally, he shook his head and bellowed "LINE UP!" Slowly, like a radar dial, sweeping his muscle distended left arm with his finger pointing, across his chest to the from right to left ending parallel to the fence, "Line up, for rum - banana!" Clearly a powerful line, a line no one crossed, emanated from that pointing finger. A mass of bodies narrowed to a wedge that narrowed more to became a single column of children. Frank quickly walked the line with a mental calculation clearly going on that continued through the review of the contents of the truck which was now readied to yield its prize. It was loaves and fishes, for sure. Every kid got a portion according to his or her size. Not a single drop ever reached the ground. A chain dance of 'rum banana - rum banana' weaved through the parking area. And Frank had his last. He addressed every one of these children by their familiar names as they got their share, pinching their cheeks or patting their buns as they joined the chain of dancers. Young Mac couldn't help but notice that there were nearly no actual bathing suits. Just converted rags. The younger kids had mostly borrowed adult underpants, knotted at the side to hold them up. Some of the young girls were holding babies. The older boys, swaggered in last. It wasn't cool to be rushing into anything. Yet, they, too, got their fair share. Mac quickly learned that there was no ordinary law and order here. Frank was the law. Frank was the order. His power was not only his strength but his fairness. His order derived from his justice, not the other way around. Power and justice was law and order. That was Frank, Franklin-Roosevelt Aver.