Summer’s at the Pool
When summer rolled around, my little brother and I would spend every moment at our local swimming pool. The pool was part of a recreational center that had everything—a go-cart racetrack, miniature golf, an arcade with pinball machines, and, of course, the pool.
Fearless Fun
My mom never learned to swim, so she made sure we could. We were both fearless in the water, but Steve took it to another level. He would climb the high dive, stand backward at the edge, and do a back flip into the deep end. This was even after he’d cracked his head open earlier that season by misjudging his dive.
Poolside Memories
We’d carpool with our neighbors, the Sperrys, and spend the entire day at the pool, from opening at 10 AM until closing at 8 PM. After dinner, we’d beg Mom not to make us take a bath, arguing we’d already been in the water all day. She would smile and turn on the bathwater anyway.
We also begged for money to spend at the pool’s snack bar, where they sold sugary straws filled with powdery candy, hotdogs, French fries, and sodas. My brother sometimes spent his allowance there, but I saved mine for mall trips, where I could buy a record album or share French fries with friends at the JC Penney café.
A Splash of Embarrassment
I remember the first time I went to the pool after swim lessons. Steve was only about three years old, and I was supposed to watch him in the kiddie pool while Mom worked. A neighbor stood nearby, sipping a Coca-Cola and keeping an eye on things too.
Steve had these cute leopard-print swim trunks, and he was happily splashing in the water. But when I came back from talking to a friend, he was standing by the lifeguard, crying with his hand over his mouth, his trunks sagging low. The lifeguard yelled, “Who’s kid is this?” It dawned on me that my brother had an accident in the pool. I should’ve stepped forward to claim him, but I didn’t. Instead, he was taken to the front desk, and Mom was called to pick him up. Later, when she asked what happened, I simply said, “I don’t know, I went to the restroom.”
Looking Back
To this day, I feel a mix of embarrassment and shame when I think back on it. At seven years old, I wasn’t prepared to handle that kind of feeling, but it’s a moment that has stayed with me. It’s bittersweet—the joy of those summers at the pool with my brother, alongside the memory of the first time I didn’t stand up for him.
Life’s full of small decisions and moments that shape us, and that one has shaped me more than I realized at the time.