It’s sad for me to see the old Holiday Swim Club property in Decatur be converted into commercial office space.  I had held out hope that somehow through some sort of a miracle, the pool would reappear beneath the dirt  and the old bathhouse would somehow reconstruct itself.  There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of my old Summer hangout.

I hung out there with my best friend Eric.  To be honest, we were a couple of real brats.  The lifeguards had us sitting out of the water as much as we were in it.  It was a game to us.  The lifeguards liked us though.  We weren’t bad trouble; just kind of goofy mischief!  We certainly were the odd ones though in the neighborhood.  While others were consumed with looking good, fitting in or being cool, we’d wade in the creek or sit on the nearby pedestrian bridge crossing Spring Creek, within a short walking distance of the pool.  I loved that bridge.  It had character.  Built out of bending arches of steel painted red, it was our own mini-Golden Gate Bridge.  We’d sit on it, dangling our legs over the edge and watch the water flow by as we laughed, dreamed and talked.  It was still in hearing distance to the music being played over the pool’s speakers too – good 70′s and 80′s rock filling the Summer air.  How can you beat that?

After several floods, the bridge tilted to one side, lost some of its’ boards and had to be removed.  Another bridge was built a little further down the creek to take its’ place but it just wasn’t the same.  All the character had been stripped away by safety rails and other worry wart measures.  There was no dangling our legs over that bridge and daydreaming to the gurgling of current. We might has well been wrapped in bubble wrap, wearing life preservers and attached to safety chains as we walked across.  There was nothing fun or adventurous about that “litigation proof” bridge.  I guess I can say that bridge was the beginning of the end of kid fun in the world – at least our world.  The fear of litigation and high insurance costs that become the demise of the pool too.

The Holiday Swim Club was also the scene of my first unrequited love affair.  Who doesn’t fall in love at a pool or beach?  All that skin, coconut oil, and music is the perfect recipe for romance and bad relationship choices.  Up until the age of 13, the pool was just a fun, carefree place to go.  But in the Summer of 1984, when I was 13, that all ended.  I fell hard.  My heart would go aflutter at the sight of the object of my desire.  I was quite the hopeless, pitiful creature for the next few years.  The sappy love songs had a new meaning.  The world looked different.  I was kind of still me but my mind was floating about 12 inches above my head, with only a few tethers still attached.  I could be brought back to reality once in a while but for the most part I was lost – lost in love!  I was pathetic, like all those who fall in love are.

I sure miss walking to the pool from my parent’s house and walking home in the dark.  Yeah, what a crazy time.  Kids actually walked home at night then without the protective assistance of the National Guard.  Lord, I miss those days!  Sometimes, I can’t help thinking that heaven isn’t something in our future after we croak; it’s in our past where we can never go back to it again.

Now the property is filled with piles of dirt and political signs for the upcoming city council election.  I wonder if the developers and politicians even know what that place once was and what it still means to a middle-aged woman reminiscing about it?  I doubt it.

Someday, I’m going to go back to that creek, put on an old pair of shoes and walk right down the middle of it, just like I used to do!