The disappearing shower

The Hobbes types believe that the pool showers lose pressure exactly at 9 p.m. closing time as the result of an untoward staff effort to clear swimmers out of the building, regardless of shampoo half-rinsed from hair.   The Rousseau types believe the pressure drop has to do with excessive water demand at peak use, "back flushing the filters",  or other benign technical reason.  This locker room discussion has gone on for four years.  Dropping off a Christmas wreath today, the neighbor kid mentioned that her high school swim team practices in the early pool before school begins.  A frustration that favors Rousseau: sometimes the morning showers lose pressure,  leading the swim team heading off to homeroom with half-rinsed hair.

Still Life by Sandy

Yet, when alone, we entertained ourselves
with everlastingness: there we would stay,
within the gap left between world and toy,
upon a spot which, from the first beginning,
had been established for a pure event.

Ranier Maria Rilke, from the Duino Elegies

Jury Duty

To tell the truth, I was not even called for voir dire, so after being excused I went downstairs to watch arraignments, an endless line of restrained individuals charged with possession of marijuana, DUI, driving without a license, failure to appear who, when they reach the front of the line, were moved around like chess pieces by steroidal marshals while the judge and the attorneys played King and bishops and decided to let the pawns go for now.  Then back upstairs for a gang-related murder trial, the witness recalling years of an eye for eye.  It called out for cup of coffee at the shop near the subway, and I would have pondered there  the sad game of life if a patron had not kindly come to the table and handed me my wallet, informing me that I had dropped it after paying the cashier.

Not really going anywhere

The Groke next door, in a surprisingly good mood.

Meatball Marinara

It is as difficult to go swimming on a full stomach as it is on an empty stomach. Swimming after work therefore requires some experimentation, especially if your fortification is a 6 inch meatball marinara from a nearby Subway before driving to the pool. The digestive solution is ditching at least one of the meatballs on the sandwich, leaving a maximum of 3. Sitting on the pool deck two weeks ago, waiting for the queasiness to pass before jumping in, a long-time fellow swimmer asked after my well-being. I explained my tendency to stop at subway en route. He advised that in his Coast Guard days a 20 minute wait between eating and swimming was encouraged The next day as I arrived at the pool, he hailed me from the water—not remembering my name—by calling out “subway.” Another agreeable chat, but as I walked across the pool deck yesterday, I realized the power of words. The lifeguard looked down at me and said with no particular deference to my age, “Hey subway, how’s it going?”

Final swimming tips

After finally getting back to a mile in the pool after several decades on land, the Doc has these tips for excellent lap swimming:

*People aren’t hitting your feet to annoy you, they are signalling that they are passing
*Swimmers passing you with their feet near your head are trying to annoy you
*A little snack before swimming, like a 6 inch meatball sub, does not cause cramps
*Cramps have no causes, only correlations
*Burping horizontally in the pool is easy after a little practice, though for the sake of other swimmers, some verticality is desirable
*Don’t say “anything is better than nothing” when people tell you how far they swim
*If a person swims underneath you near the bottom of pool, facing up, don’t complain: they are probably on leave
*If a towel never dries out between swims during cold weather, so what?
*Guys who wear caps, have arms that windmill furiously, and are moving very fast are not the enemy
*If you are not sure whether you are on lap twelve or thirteen, you are on lap twelve
*It’s easier to reduce drag than to increase propulsion; to get the streamlined shape practice crawling through some industrial alloy steel pipes (or not)
*Try to get the chlorine out of your hair, unless your head needs fiberglass insulation.

1921 Dentzel

In our childhoods a generation apart you and I both rode on the carefully renovated and historically registered Dentzel carousel, pictured here seasonally shuttered in Glen Echo Park, which contains elements of the original park, some working some in disrepair, under the bright deco signs announcing ballroom and arcade and bubble up, while J takes jazz piano in a space within the arcade, beyond the old shooting gallery where I fired real 22s.

To me this space (and let's not even think about the yurts with their hippie crafts, the Saturday night swing dances, or the water running swiftly from River Rd. to river with force to worry Clara Barton's brow) brings together the real, the hyper-real, the simulacrum, the present, and many pasts together in a wormhole of sorts, the spirits of frozen yet whirling animals under layers of paint and preservative, bringing joy and nostalgia in season.