The experience took me back a long ways. That is definitely a sign of aging: so many things recall distant events. I don't really mind, however, as most of those events are both long forgotten and pleasant. I think it's a sign of a good and full life, past and present.
In this instance I was recalling evening swims in Los Angeles. We didn't have a pool but the Sacketts next door did. The Sacketts were generous with sharing their aqueous playground. During the summer Danny Freeman and my brother Dan and I were at liberty to come and go as we pleased during the day. We understood to clear out by around 5:30 when Mr. Sackett returned from work and took his daily swim. Otherwise the pool was pretty much ours to enjoy.
A few times each summer the Sacketts would be out of town and we would be allowed to use the pool while they were gone. (This was before personal injury law infected the U.S.) On the occasion when the weather was hot and the evenings were warm we would head over next door and go for a swim. What a fabulous time we had playing Marco Polo after dark, jumping in off the high walls, sitting at the pool's edge, laughing and talking with the pool light providing the only illumination as the reflection of lighted waves bounced and danced across the surrounding walls and landscape.
Living in a somewhat rural setting in Michigan there is some prejudice against "big city" types along with headshaking over all the simple pleasures kids lose out on growing up in the city. Perhaps there is some truth to that but I have no regrets. For us, that pool was the proverbial summertime swimming hole. I'm fairly certain there's not a pond in existence I would trade for those summer days and nights in Sackett's pool. And for now, on these hot summer nights, our after dark rooftop oasis will make a fine substitute for that late night playground on Strathmore Drive.
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