A flood of memories...
I had a very pleasant evening yesterday. For the second week in a row I spent several hours in M&N's pool. I used to spend as much as 10 hours a day in water as a kid. My folks had a beach condo where we would retreat from the San Fernando Valley heat in summer and just about every weekend the rest of the year. With the beach across the street and an indoor pool within the gates of our complex, I was in water every day and left to my own devices. Heh, I guess that's one good thing about being an only kid.
I used to go out in the morning and take a walk along the beach - searching for shells, beach glass, bones and any other interesting items. I'd come across the remnants of bonfires and parties with empty bottles and cans, smoldering coals and the occasional lost sock or used condom. Occasionally I'd find trash washed-up from the container ships making their way through the port. I loved the odd bottles or plastic fragments written in Japanese or Russian or other languages I couldn't decipher. heh, I guess that was my first exposure to garbology. Anyway, I'd load my pail or pockets with treasures and collect the empties for recycling and leave them next to the mostly vacant lifeguard towers and head off into the surf. Most days I'd have my boogie board along and would get out there in the waves 'till I wound-up rolling into shore a sandy mess. Other days I'd just get in waist deep and walk or run against the current and then float back down. If I was feeling adventurous I'd swim out past the blue waves and visit with the pelicans and occasional sea lion. I knew better than to get too close to the surfers, fishing pier or the breakwater for the port.
I'd drag myself and my collected treasures back home just long enough to grab lunch and head up to the pool. I was lucky most days the place was vacant. Just me and the site attendant with six monitors and General Hospital to keep them busy. I preferred it empty. I used to make-up games - swimming for as long as I could holding one leg or the other, using just arms, just legs or holding my breath. Doing as many revolutions as i could, handstands, spins, everything. People used to call me a fish and would even ask me to help teach their kids to swim. I didn't mind, but i really liked the pool all to myself. I searched for the boundaries of my capabilities in water - became comfortable in it. I'd relax and float and look at the sky through the glassed-in ceiling. I could still hear the sappy muzak through water-filled ears. I wasn't as big a fan of the jacuzzi or sauna but I'd give them a go occasionally.
I'd dry-off and go upstairs to play pool some days - or go up to the "adult" level and pick some trashy romance novel or cast-off 70's self-help best seller or non-fiction book to read on the deck. I probably learned more about history, politics, psychology and sex from that library than from anywhere else up to that point in my life.
By sunset I'd start working my way down to the condo while walking through the rest of the complex. I'd check-in with the neighborhood cats while noticing who was up for the weekend, who hadn't been there for a while (piles of newspapers on their driveway) and if it was near the end of the month I'd check-out the dumpster enclosures to see if anyone was moving and casting-off treasures they just didn't have room for anymore. Again, garbology training. I used to make enough in bottle & can recycling to pay for my trips to the liquor store. AbbaZabbas, funions and a box of animal crackers with an Icee to wash it all down.
I'd come home, have dinner and collapse in front of the TV. Those were the days!
I used to go out in the morning and take a walk along the beach - searching for shells, beach glass, bones and any other interesting items. I'd come across the remnants of bonfires and parties with empty bottles and cans, smoldering coals and the occasional lost sock or used condom. Occasionally I'd find trash washed-up from the container ships making their way through the port. I loved the odd bottles or plastic fragments written in Japanese or Russian or other languages I couldn't decipher. heh, I guess that was my first exposure to garbology. Anyway, I'd load my pail or pockets with treasures and collect the empties for recycling and leave them next to the mostly vacant lifeguard towers and head off into the surf. Most days I'd have my boogie board along and would get out there in the waves 'till I wound-up rolling into shore a sandy mess. Other days I'd just get in waist deep and walk or run against the current and then float back down. If I was feeling adventurous I'd swim out past the blue waves and visit with the pelicans and occasional sea lion. I knew better than to get too close to the surfers, fishing pier or the breakwater for the port.
I'd drag myself and my collected treasures back home just long enough to grab lunch and head up to the pool. I was lucky most days the place was vacant. Just me and the site attendant with six monitors and General Hospital to keep them busy. I preferred it empty. I used to make-up games - swimming for as long as I could holding one leg or the other, using just arms, just legs or holding my breath. Doing as many revolutions as i could, handstands, spins, everything. People used to call me a fish and would even ask me to help teach their kids to swim. I didn't mind, but i really liked the pool all to myself. I searched for the boundaries of my capabilities in water - became comfortable in it. I'd relax and float and look at the sky through the glassed-in ceiling. I could still hear the sappy muzak through water-filled ears. I wasn't as big a fan of the jacuzzi or sauna but I'd give them a go occasionally.
I'd dry-off and go upstairs to play pool some days - or go up to the "adult" level and pick some trashy romance novel or cast-off 70's self-help best seller or non-fiction book to read on the deck. I probably learned more about history, politics, psychology and sex from that library than from anywhere else up to that point in my life.
By sunset I'd start working my way down to the condo while walking through the rest of the complex. I'd check-in with the neighborhood cats while noticing who was up for the weekend, who hadn't been there for a while (piles of newspapers on their driveway) and if it was near the end of the month I'd check-out the dumpster enclosures to see if anyone was moving and casting-off treasures they just didn't have room for anymore. Again, garbology training. I used to make enough in bottle & can recycling to pay for my trips to the liquor store. AbbaZabbas, funions and a box of animal crackers with an Icee to wash it all down.
I'd come home, have dinner and collapse in front of the TV. Those were the days!