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Summers seemed to survive so much longer when I was a newborn.  There were books to pore over, bikes to ride, creeks to review, and pools to swim in.  I didn’t watchman on the alert for television (yes silly, television was invented when I was a laddie); in fact, I rarely was ever dwelling-place during the day in the summertime (I am sure the want of central air conditioning was a contributing component).  I was on my bike playing bike tag on carless streets, at the playground sliding down mordant hot metal slides or at the pool.

The pool was a unusually big community pool, or it just seems jumbo in my memory.  Nothing can depart me back to age ten faster than a whiff of coconut suntan oil and the perception of leathery septuagenarians (or at least appeared to be septuagenarians) smoking cigarettes on woven pliant chaises sunning themselves by a long chalk before the term sunscreen was equitable part of the lexicon.  It was forever a happy day when my mother would give way my sister and I each a quarter to buy an ice cream or, oh the joy!, a dollar tab to buy french fries and a fountain indulge. 

Since I spent so much dated there as a child, there are undeniable foods and candies I will unexceptionally associate with the pool.  Airheads, Fun Dip (once known as Lik-M-Aid), Swedish Fish - they puissance as well be time machines.  And eating fries in that red checked stationery bucket drizzled with ketchup from the red paste squeeze bottle?   Nab up a pair of striped athletic socks and place Foreigner’s “Hot Blooded” on a crackly transistor tranny - it’s 1979 all over again.

What is it about sitting in a wet swim cause that makes the fries tastier and the hot dogs juicier?  Is it the chlorine that sharpens your palette?  Or is it entirely the increased physical activity that whets the fondness to appreciate any sustenance?  Or peradventure it’s the freedom of going to the elevenses bar with money clutched in your involvement and ordering food like a grown up?  Peradventure it’s a combination of all of those things, but I do separate that the smell of cooking oil and chlorine makes my abdomen growl no matter what age I am.

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