Public Swim

They were all lined up. There must have been five, maybe even six of them. Normally that’s way too many for my taste. Their brown bodies arched and splashed as they jumped into the pool at the same time, arms touching close enough to hold hands. Of course they wouldn’t consider holding hands, because unlike 4th grade girls, 4th grade boys wouldn’t be caught dead touching each other – unless of course it was to punch someone in the arm. They gleefully splashed into the pool, shaking their heads like dogs as they broke the surface. They’d jump up on the side, and do it again and again.

“No diving,” the lifeguard would yell, as one of the jumpers changed directions at the last minute and went in head-first. They would do it, over and over again – and each time the life guard would deepen his voice, puff out his tanned chest, glance at the 14 year old girls in their little bikinis giggling at him, and yell once again at the fourth grade boys.

Thankfully there was a “time-out” every hour and everyone under the age of 18 had to clear the pool for us old people to swim. Grandmas were there, doing their water walking, young moms had their babies in waterproof (I hoped) diapers, laughing and cheering them on as they felt the cold water creep up their young bodies. Moms and dads cooled off as they kept a close eye on their kids sitting on the edge, waiting for the time out to be over. I was grateful to be in the pool and not be splashed during adult swim…although the longer I hung out, the more I realized it didn’t matter.

At the pool, defenses seem to lower. Kids are just plain kids and I love that. They didn’t know they were splashing me as they dove down to fetch their treasure – a penny they’d thrown in just minutes before. They didn’t care if my hair got wet – so eventually, neither did I.

There is a definite culture at the pool – and I spent my entire time people watching. It also brought back so many memories – of every stage of my life. I distinctly remember diving off the high dive, begging my mom to “watch me” each time. I then remember my first two-piece, and around that time came recognizing boys, too. I remember having a crush on the life guard. I also remember being the life guard, hoping I looked cool to the younger kids. I then remember my teens, and glanced around the pool once again. High School girls met in the corner, trying to appear nonchalant as they posed their tanned bodies and snuck looks at the senior boys playing volleyball. The boys would glance back from time to time; glad their sunglasses didn’t show exactly which girl they were checking out.


Snow cones and potato chips, suntan lotion and tan lines. Starving for peanut butter sandwiches, fighting off a nap and losing track of all time. The feeling of a public pool is the same – no matter what town you are in, or what age you are. Even better, the memories are sweeter than ever. Cannonball contest anyone?