The Commun(e)ity Pool

My house is part of Green Acres - a county-sanctioned conservation area. Our home was built before the bill took effect, a yellow clapboard irony stationed amidst preserved parks and rolling farm fields. In Spring, while on a stroll, I noticed a dirt path perpendicular to the paved road. Instead of leading me further away from civilized ecology (those New Jersey plants that were given the okay to grow) it brought me to a pool.

The pool was a gigantic cement crater filled with blue liquid. Inside the structure's wire enclosure was one black chrome grill, one shed, three chewed foam noodles and two picnic benches. It resembled a portion of a suburban ghost town, a barbecue left on the heels of an air raid. I kept moving.

The next day, my Mom asked me to tell her again what I had seen.

"It was a pool."

"A pool in the middle of the woods?"

"Yes."

"Were there people swimming?"

"Maybe. They were gone."

Mom didn't leave it.

"Let me call around. Someone has to know."

"The animals built it. Weather's been humid. Especially with all that fur."

Mom lifted the phone from its cradle.

Olivia's friend Lauren's Parents knew.

According to them, it was a Community Pool. A gift left to the block by an eccentric donor, long since dead. We could join, if we were interested. All that was required was proof of residence and a check.

Mom mailed the check to a PO Box.

We got a letter and a key in return.

The letter read,

"Welcome! We are kicking off the summer season on June 19th!!! Everyone is invited to come to help fill the pool and tidy up! Remember, all members are responsible for grounds maintenance. If you see leaves, skim them up! Don't assume that another member will. Also, a reminder: there is no Lifeguard. Children must be accompanied by an adult. Adults, if you see a child drowning who is not your own, pick them up! Don't assume that another member will. Water wings and charcoal is stored in the shed. Thanks!! :)"

A weekend later, I packed towels into a striped bag. My sisters put on their flip flops. We were ready for a dip.

The pool sat waiting for us. The water was no longer still. Kids clambered in and out, slick and screeching. A woman draped in an XXL tshirt prodded hot dogs with a pair of tongs. She glanced up.

"Hello."

"Hi."

I laid our belongs out on the surface of a picnic table. Olivia and Toni jumped into the shallow end. I took out a book and started to read. Twenty minutes passed. My neck began to ache. I scanned the area. An unoccupied chair leaned against the fence.

I stood up and walked over to the chair. The woman had moved to another table nearby, now busy assembling her cooked hot dogs

My fingers hesitantly grazed the spine of the chair.

"Excuse me, does this belong to you?"

The woman stopped prying apart buns.

"What? Oh no, that doesn't belong to me - it belongs to all of the members."

"Is it alright if I use it?"

"Of course. Don't be silly."

I picked up the chair and retreated back to my spot.

The woman approached the edge of the pool and called to her kids.

Lunch was ready.

The kids ran dripping to the food, peeling the meat from the bread, fighting for the mustard.

Toni and Olivia followed their retreat. They jogged over to me and wrapped themselves in towels.

I pulled out a can of soda, cracked the tab, took a sip.

A girl had parted from the group meal. She approached us, carrying three hot dogs on a paper plate.

"These are for you."

I was touched.

"Really? So nice of you to think of us!"

The girl fiddled with the elastic goggle strap held taunt against her hair.

"My mom says that you always have to think of others."

The girl stared at my soda can.

I motioned to my bag

"Want one?"

As I pulled out another drink, the rest of the kids gathered around me, hands outstretched, fingertips pruned.

I sat upright.

"Oh, I, uh, don't think I have enough..."

The kids' faces flickered with puzzlement.

They lowered their arms and dispersed.

The girl remained.

She strapped her goggles over her eyes and smiled.

"That's okay. You didn't know. Next time make sure to pack more."

She ran to catch up with her brothers and sisters.

I watched her go.

Olivia sandwiched herself next to me on the chair, munching on a gifted hot dog.

I flipped through my book, trying to locate my page.

"Where am I?"

A moment passed.

I found the paragraph.

Olivia finished her snack.

She leaned on my shoulder, sighed with contentment.

"I like it here. Everybody shares."

Lion's Milk

A friend and I wandered the sidewalks of New Hope, heading in the direction of dinner. As we walked, we noticed a bearded man parked in front of a store. The man had a magnificent gut. It spilled out over the edge of his waistband, held mid-air by a pair of red suspenders. He leaned on a cane. The man heard our approaching footsteps. He hastily grabbed at a basket sitting next to him.
"Ladies, I have something for you."
Something could be anything, anything could be something not worth stopping for. It was a trap. Besides, we were hungry.
"No thanks."
"Please, it is free."
Remove the value and the something became inconsequential.
We stopped. The man placed a safety pin decorated with glass beads in each of our wary palms.
"What is this?"
"It is a charm!"
I glanced at the basket. It was filled. People don't just spend hours beading safety pins, especially complimentary ones.
"Thanks, but why?"
The man sputtered.
"Well...to celebrate the end of spring and the return of summer and....uh...they are good luck."
A highly specific answer. I accepted it, fastening the nick-knack to my bag. We started to gather our belongings.
"Wait! There is more."
We paused, eyebrows raised.
"If you go through these doors, in the backyard is one of the world's largest tapestry pillows. I bet you'd love to recline on one of the world's largest tapestry pillows."
Maybe...
"Also, there are snacks."
Actually, yes. Yes, we would.
The man flourished with his cane towards the entrance. We stepped inside. The interior was the truest of wall to wall carpet - overlapping shag rugs in deep jewel tones, dim, sounds padded, voices muffled by yarn insulation.
Out back was a modest lot - crab grass, a crumpled oak. There, underneath the oak, was one of the world's largest tapestry pillows. It stretched out for miles, lumpy tiles cross-hatched together with thick thread. We gingerly stepped onto it, searching out its center. Upon locating a nucleus, we lay down. My limbs fell at awkward angles, knees elevated, pelvis sunk in, head skewed. The skin on the back of my wrists pressed against stiff follicles.
"Excuse me, would you two like your picture taken on one of the world's largest tapestry pillows?"
I sat up.
A woman with varicose veins held out a card with the letter 'B'
I crawled across the great expanse.
I took it from her.
I smiled.
A camera's flash fired.
My friend remembered a promise.
"Where are the snacks?"
The woman pointed to a cart.
Behind the cart was a boy. The boy wore a shrunken vest and a squat cap.
Half-hearted, he gestured to a spread.
"This is a cheese pastry. Over here we have stuffed grape leaves. We have Lion's Milk shots too."
"Lion's Milk?"
"It is a Turkish drink made out of grain alcohol."
"Can we get one of those?"
"Sure."
We knocked back the mix in dixie cups. I gagged, overwhelmed by anise.
"Sorry. I should have told you they were strong...Lions are strong. Get it?"
"I get it."
"Don't feel like you have to finish it. I can give you some water."
"No, I'm alright."
My friend was charmed.
"So, you live around here?"
"Yeah. But I go to the University of Maryland."
"You look a little like Aladdin in that outfit."
The boy rubbed his forehead.
"I am not even from Turkey...it is a summer job. I kind of hate it."
The Lion's Milk had begun to sink into my bones. Sympathy gripped me.
"It's gonna be okay man. Money is money."
Chanting music faded in from a nearby speaker.
The boy poured himself a shot and sipped it.
"I know."
Our conversation ended abruptly.
The woman with varicose veins had tapped me on the shoulder and asked for my email address. I gave it to her, opening up my mailbox to upholstered spam of all kinds.
We left only after being assured that we'd soon be receiving photo evidence of our moment of suspension, set adrift on one of the world's largest tapestry pillows.

Benjamin Braddock Complex

Yesterday I moved out of my college house. The weeks leading up to my departure were soggy, filled with random crying jags instigated by the most conventional of activities. I would take a jog around campus and suddenly be choked by sweaty sobs. A similar teary attack was experienced in a grocery store's freezer isle. It would have been reasonable to accept these snotty moments as par for the course if they were held against the backdrop of appropriate emotional occasions – i.e. last day of classes, commencement ceremonies, Senior Week activities…they weren’t though. I was buying perogies.
Even now, confront with memories of my empty bedroom, I am dry-eyed. One part of my brain says that I should view my lack of water works as progress. The other half worries that I may be lapsing into a sort of stagnant Benjamin Braddock complex. I absolutely love the movie “The Graduate.” My love used to be centered on remote facets of the film (Simon and Garfunkel soundtrack, 60’s decade nuances, sexy garters and stockings). Presently, my preoccupation with the flick has morphed into a deep personal affection for Dustin Hoffman’s character. I know that that is a very obvious statement. He plays a twenty-something college graduate. I am a twenty-something college graduate. Why wouldn’t we be buddies? Nonetheless, I can’t discredit the fact that takes a lot of skill to make a film that not only portrays a stage in life but also successfully understands it. So, get ready for a list. Since the reference is apparent, the title will be too:

TRUTHS FOUND IN THE GRADUATE

The ‘F’ Word – If I haven’t been asked it once, I have been asked it forty times:
“What are you going to do now?”
“Well, that’s a little hard to say.”
I have already made a mental note and faxed it on ice to Future Addie. The message reads: “When encountering recent college graduates, do not ask them what they are doing next. Most don’t know yet and subsequently feel like shit because they don’t have a worthwhile answer.”
Exhibit A:


Floating – In relation to the above, post-college plans have in fact been on my mind. I have also managed to misplace the momentum necessary to begin making these arrangements. My normal self-starter impulses are kaput. I am not moving forwards or backwards. I am just drifting.
Exhibit B:


Pomp and Circumstance – “The Graduate” has one of the best conclusions of all time, bar none. It illustrates an awkward letdown, a subtle exchange between two people after the hype of an event has subsided. The formal elements of college ceremonies are similar to that of a wedding – you’ve got an outfit and rituals to perform. In the midst of it all, it is easy to get caught up. You exit the stadium (or, in their case, flee from a church) out into the real world. All at once, there is a calm followed by a thought. Ben and Elaine’s face is familiar because it is my own. I’m wedged between them in the backseat of a bus, staring out into the aisle, listless and wondering “Now what?”
Exhibit C:


..Huh?
You don’t want to watch the last clip because it will spoil the ending?
Why haven’t you seen the movie yet?
It is a classic.
What are you waiting for?
Do it now.
Really.
Otherwise, you won’t get this parting reference:

……ELAAAINNEEE!!!!!!!

Grandma Sings Van Halen

Every May my Dad's side of the family has a Memorial weekend picnic. Since getting older my mode of operation has been eat, answer generic questions about my life from obscure relatives, digest, eat more, pass out in a lawn chair. Ambient music is usually played while people mill around. The music does not come from a stereo and speakers. It comes from an trio of uncles that play the accordion, harmonica and guitar. In the past, song choices were geared towards the ancients among us - German folk tunes. As the years went by, handfuls of these older individuals would move on to the Great Gig in the Sky. Their increased absences at picnics created gaps in the song sphere, fault lines where semi-contemporary music could leech in unnoticed. Such trends reached new epic heights this past weekend. At first I wasn't sure what was happening. I was lolling in my usual shady spot, deviled egg filling stuck to my chin, when I heard one of the guitarists start to strum. The melody sounded oh so familiar but in my food coma, I had an extraordinarily difficult time placing it.
Then he started singing, "I'm your ice cream man/stop me when I'm passing by..."
The reference was simmering in my brain.
He continued. "See now all my flavors are guaranteed to satisfy."
My Grandparents were seated nearby, listening to the music. Never ones to turn down a chance to sing, they started to chime in, learning they went.
"All my flavors are guaranteed to satisfy!" they repeated.
I was on the brink of recognition.
He proceeded: "I'm usually passin' by just around eleven o'clock/And if ya' let me cool you one time/you'll be my regular stop!"
The Grandparents harmonized: "Cool you one time/you'll be my regular stooooppp!"
Then, I got it. They were singing Van Halen.
My revelation swept in on the tails of my Grandmother's final chorus. Clapping to the beat, she brought the tune to a rousing close with a final sweet, pristine
"I'm guaranteed to satisfyyyy!"
The best part is I'm positive that they both thought it was a Buddy Holly song about selling Popsicles.

http://http//www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvDL_3c8Hak&feature=related