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Mayor Nutter's smartest move: How my neighborhood pool built a community
My pool, my summer, my community
June 15. Despite the recession and Philadelphia's budget crisis, Mayor Nutter and the Department of Parks and Recreation opened all 70 of the city's public pools for six weeks— the first time they've all been opened in many years. Was this public expense wise? I plan to find out.
June 26. I read that about a million people use Philly pools each summer. Right now, it looks like they are all at Barry Playground in South Philadelphia! It's opening day here. Bright towels are slung over shoulders and on fences. Kids dash around in their swimsuits, and the pool looks like one big splash. Cannonball!
July 2. It amazes me my own children are learning to swim in the same pool where I learned as a kid. I remember being a "tadpole" and holding onto the white lip of the pool while learning to kick. The starchy smell of chlorine, the hot flat of cement, and the pale blue of the water haven't changed a bit. Here's what has changed: In the 1970s, the pool held separate "boys' days" (Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday) and "girls' days" (Monday, Wednesday, Friday). Sundays were "family days." Today the pool hours are divided by use: Designated time for campers, lessons, families and adults. After dinner, I'll come over for half of adult swim while my husband watches the kids, then we'll trade off. In effect we enjoy the benefits of a gym without membership fees or babysitting costs.
July 5. There is nothing like a pool to generate a little "vacation" vibe. As I glide around in the water, I feel as if I'm on a July Fourth weekend jaunt, and I'm just two blocks from home. For our family of four, a summer shore getaway easily would cost $1,000. Here, I can cool my heels just by being a resident of Philadelphia. A gift from my city. Imagine that!
Golden girls
July 12. An all-gals group of senior citizens (the On Golden Pond crowd, I call them) bobs around in the pool during adult swim time. They talk about the old times and seem content as long as they don't get their hair wet.
July 14. A male senior steps into the pool at the shallow end. The On Golden Pond crowd drifts over. One calls out: "I've seen you jogging around here. You must be strong." Sharks in the water. Time to get out of the pool.
July 16. Walking over to the pool with my flip-flops and swim cover-up, I pass a couple who look more Bella Vista than deep South Philly. She is wearing a paisley swim shift and uber-cool glasses. He wears a hip black T-shirt with a skull design. They carry towels and look pleasantly tousled from their swim. We nod knowingly to them, as if to say, "Isn't this the best?" They pass with a genial "Good evening." Who knew that a pool could elicit such civility?
July 19. Ack. I spoke too soon. The On Golden Ponder with the black swimsuit complains to a lifeguard that tots were in the pool during adult swim. "This is our time," she says loudly. At the other end of the pool, a dad shouts at Black Swimsuit. Maybe it's the intense summer heat, but can't we all just get along?
Batting practice
July 21. Ah, this is better. The pool is bubbling with mixed ages, races and genders. The On Golden Pond group clusters at the shallow end. A lone 30-something swimmer does laps. A white tattooed woman races an African-American teen across the pool. Refreshed, the tattooed woman reminisces with a heavily bearded friend about wild times. I watch a father and son take batting practice on the nearby field as the sun melts down into a summer night.
July 30. I read today that young people have been taking midnight swims at four city pools by jumping fences and muscling in with bolt cutters. The dripping wet thugs also assaulted at least one night-shift pool worker. Despite police patrols and regular repairs, the vandals keep returning.
August 3. The Barry Playground pool is awash in kids with goggles, young swimmers wearing bathing caps and toddlers shrieking with delight at the cool wetness. My boys make instant friends with kids they've never met and play until the lifeguard's whistle blows.
Winding down
August 9. The sun is much lower during adult swim this evening. The lifeguards don't even need their makeshift awning. The father and son who've been taking batting practice on the baseball diamond are nowhere to be seen. As Don Henley sang: I can feel it in the air, the summer's out of reach. The pool is about to close for the season. These six weeks have come and gone like a wave in the ocean. Soon we'll be submerged in the hustle of the school year and urban life. I take a gentle plunge and come up into a backstroke. I glide across the pool one last time, letting my city buoy me up.
September 7. I took the boys to the playground yesterday for one last hurrah before school starts. The pool, drained for a nearly month now, looked lonely. I'm already counting down the days to next summer.
June 26. I read that about a million people use Philly pools each summer. Right now, it looks like they are all at Barry Playground in South Philadelphia! It's opening day here. Bright towels are slung over shoulders and on fences. Kids dash around in their swimsuits, and the pool looks like one big splash. Cannonball!
July 2. It amazes me my own children are learning to swim in the same pool where I learned as a kid. I remember being a "tadpole" and holding onto the white lip of the pool while learning to kick. The starchy smell of chlorine, the hot flat of cement, and the pale blue of the water haven't changed a bit. Here's what has changed: In the 1970s, the pool held separate "boys' days" (Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday) and "girls' days" (Monday, Wednesday, Friday). Sundays were "family days." Today the pool hours are divided by use: Designated time for campers, lessons, families and adults. After dinner, I'll come over for half of adult swim while my husband watches the kids, then we'll trade off. In effect we enjoy the benefits of a gym without membership fees or babysitting costs.
July 5. There is nothing like a pool to generate a little "vacation" vibe. As I glide around in the water, I feel as if I'm on a July Fourth weekend jaunt, and I'm just two blocks from home. For our family of four, a summer shore getaway easily would cost $1,000. Here, I can cool my heels just by being a resident of Philadelphia. A gift from my city. Imagine that!
Golden girls
July 12. An all-gals group of senior citizens (the On Golden Pond crowd, I call them) bobs around in the pool during adult swim time. They talk about the old times and seem content as long as they don't get their hair wet.
July 14. A male senior steps into the pool at the shallow end. The On Golden Pond crowd drifts over. One calls out: "I've seen you jogging around here. You must be strong." Sharks in the water. Time to get out of the pool.
July 16. Walking over to the pool with my flip-flops and swim cover-up, I pass a couple who look more Bella Vista than deep South Philly. She is wearing a paisley swim shift and uber-cool glasses. He wears a hip black T-shirt with a skull design. They carry towels and look pleasantly tousled from their swim. We nod knowingly to them, as if to say, "Isn't this the best?" They pass with a genial "Good evening." Who knew that a pool could elicit such civility?
July 19. Ack. I spoke too soon. The On Golden Ponder with the black swimsuit complains to a lifeguard that tots were in the pool during adult swim. "This is our time," she says loudly. At the other end of the pool, a dad shouts at Black Swimsuit. Maybe it's the intense summer heat, but can't we all just get along?
Batting practice
July 21. Ah, this is better. The pool is bubbling with mixed ages, races and genders. The On Golden Pond group clusters at the shallow end. A lone 30-something swimmer does laps. A white tattooed woman races an African-American teen across the pool. Refreshed, the tattooed woman reminisces with a heavily bearded friend about wild times. I watch a father and son take batting practice on the nearby field as the sun melts down into a summer night.
July 30. I read today that young people have been taking midnight swims at four city pools by jumping fences and muscling in with bolt cutters. The dripping wet thugs also assaulted at least one night-shift pool worker. Despite police patrols and regular repairs, the vandals keep returning.
August 3. The Barry Playground pool is awash in kids with goggles, young swimmers wearing bathing caps and toddlers shrieking with delight at the cool wetness. My boys make instant friends with kids they've never met and play until the lifeguard's whistle blows.
Winding down
August 9. The sun is much lower during adult swim this evening. The lifeguards don't even need their makeshift awning. The father and son who've been taking batting practice on the baseball diamond are nowhere to be seen. As Don Henley sang: I can feel it in the air, the summer's out of reach. The pool is about to close for the season. These six weeks have come and gone like a wave in the ocean. Soon we'll be submerged in the hustle of the school year and urban life. I take a gentle plunge and come up into a backstroke. I glide across the pool one last time, letting my city buoy me up.
September 7. I took the boys to the playground yesterday for one last hurrah before school starts. The pool, drained for a nearly month now, looked lonely. I'm already counting down the days to next summer.
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