Sunday, August 29, 2010


The sun did not set on summer 2010 without submerging me in water after all. In summers past I had a nasty habit of closing the bar and then hopping the fence with friends to float around in local watering holes until the cops showed up to scatter us with their headlights. It occurred to me today as I flipped through the Atlantic on my towel that I had not performed this daytime pool-going since I was a teenager.

It turns out that the bustling province that is the community pool remains mostly unchanged from my childhood, this place where no authority figure has seen their 19th birthday. Gum-snapping lifeguards with sun-white hair patrol their beat, largish women in skirted suits read their Danielle Steel, teenage boys splash, teenage girls cluster.

There didn't seem to be a spot in the poolside hierarchy for childless grownups, so we borrowed from the kids and squealed and splashed as one does. A swimming pool is no place to act dignified.

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