POOL CLOSING

Here I am in my birthday suit (five more days until I can celebrate my forty-third year in these finest of threads) clinging to the side of my very first pool. There are more pictures of this inflatable luxury, however, I’d have to get permission from my brother to post them. We each had a beach ball, evidence of his recent departure, leaving me waiting for assistance from our mother, the lifeguard on duty, whom had to be nearby, had to be. At least I had a tight grip on the side, unlike the hard slippery tub of my childhood, also shared at a very young age, the most sensible and economical way to bathe two kids in the least amount of time.

I don’t have many fond memories of our first pool, nor do I remember much about pool’s number two and three, both above ground, one circular and the other peanut-shaped, respectively; each upgrades, our last one cabbaged from the neighbor’s backyard and erected in ours. This was our father’s futile attempt to keep us entertained at home, his reasoning, if we swam in this very same pool at the neighbor’s, then by golly we’d be able to enjoy it over here. Unfortunately, the only flesh hitting the water were his hands as he tested the water’s pH, alkalinity, and chlorine levels. His strategy had backfired. Our neighbors may have given us their old pool, but they too had upgraded. Often when we were asked why we didn’t swim at home, we’d remind him (he worked midnight’s) about all the times that he had opened his bedroom window and yelled at us to quiet down so he could get some sleep.

Well, Labor Day is officially over, and as Michigan tradition goes, I winterized my own above ground pool and covered it. I’m preparing for the seasonal change, hoping to one day replace my pool with a hot tub instead.