I have vivid memories of swimming at the town pool despite the fact that I was neither what one would call an "avid swimmer" nor did I have a season pass like the "cool" kids.
I remember the smell of the suntan lotion.
I remember the feel of the rough concrete as it rubbed the soles of my feet raw.
I remember looking with adoration at the lifeguards (high school kids) waiting for them to blow the whistle after the five-minute break not realizing that I was probably in serious trouble if my life ended up depending on them.
But mostly I remember the music and the bologna.
Yes, the bologna.
We'll get to that.
There are times that I'll hear a song, none of which I can name at the moment, that will take me straight back to that chlorine playground and scorching concrete.
I don't know if it's the particular song that reminds me of the pool or the way it sounds as it comes out of a particular type of speakers, but it has a tinny, far away sound and a little bit of static.
Determining the cause of this memory spark will take years of research involving scientific test subjects and controls and lots of sunscreen.
I'll get back to you.
And then there's the bologna....
There was something about a full day of swimming for a kid that just took it out of you.
The sun...the heat...swallowing all that urine filled water diluted with chlorine...it's exhausting on the pre-teen body.
It also induced hunger.
A mean kind of hunger.
The only kind of hunger that could be squelched with a bologna sandwich.
Even more than fond memories of frolicking in the water, I have memories of walking weakly into our kitchen after an all day swim.
I remember shuffling my sun heated body clumsily to the icebox (refrigerator as some call it) waiting for my pupils to adjust to the darkness after having been in so much brightness for so long.
I remember searching frantically for the ingredients I needed to stop the rumbling pain in my stomach, laying the ingredients out on the counter and assembling it as follows...
Bread (whole wheat as mom was anti-white bread)
Bologna
Fake cheese individually wrapped (if our whining had been successful)
Miracle Whip
A large layer of plain Ruffles or Lays
Bread
And then smoosh it all together with the palm of your hands.
In the event that we were out of bologna I would happily suffice with two pieces of bread slathered in Miracle Whip.
Or a Nutty Bar.
It seems I always come back to chocolate.
B
You can see the rest of this session here under "Tori's Babies".
1 comments:
we didn't white bread either..nor were allowed bologna or dogs...so long hot hungry days...go to tuna salad or mayo samy's..had a friend from Canada that ate raddish samwiches....these are great pics of lovely pixishness in the smiling eyes of the little cuties
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