Waterslides

“Come on,” I told my wife Katie, “let’s take them over to the waterslides.”

Katie eyed me skeptically. Our sons Solomon and Samson haven’t had swimming lessons. Solomon is 10 and Samson is 8. We just never signed them up. Still, they do well in water, so long as they can touch the bottom.

“I’m worried they won’t know what to do at the bottom of the slide,” Katie said. A reasonable concern.

We were at a new pool in North Liberty. Well, new to us. We’ve taken the boys to City Pool in Iowa City a few times. A few weeks ago, we ventured out to the suburbs, in part, to seek out waterslides. The pool at North Liberty is nothing all that special, but it does have two reasonably sized waterslides.

“Come on,” I said, “let’s just go over there with them and check it out.”

***

Two hours later, Solomon was exhausted and Samson was in a state of exaltation. You’d think we’d found the land of milk and honey. They went up the stairs as fast as they could after not drowning at the bottom of the slide. The pool they landed in was about 4-feet deep. They were plenty tall enough to touch.

Katie and I dangled our feet in the pool and watched the boys go down waterslides. It was early afternoon. The sun was bright, the pool crowded, and 90’s pop music blared from the speakers. Lots of happy children. Lots of watchful parents. Eventually, the boys convinced me to make the trek up the stairs to the slides with them. Removed my sunhat, took off my dark sunglasses, and raced my children to the bottom. I didn’t drown either. I was a little self-conscious. 44-year-old me standing in line with an assortment of young people. I got over it. I’m discovering that self-consciousness is less palpable now than it was when I was younger. That last sentence is a slippery slope. Who knows what I won’t feel self-conscious about when I’m 54? Walking around in my greying underwear, smoking a cigar, and letting it all hang out (and go). That’s a frightening image.

For the time being, I try to remain moderately fit, am careful not to walk around in greying underwear, and am unwilling to (totally) let it all hang out and (go).

Samson wouldn’t stop talking about the slides as we returned to the car. I picked up Jersey Mike’s, we went home, and spent a lazy summer afternoon together.

***

Growing up, the boys spent lots of time at one of the two pools in State College. Katie and I did too. Park Forest and Welch. We had summer passes the first few years we lived in State College. The boys splashed in the kiddie pool under our watchful eyes. I bobbed up and down in the main pool. This was before my dark sunglasses and a sunhat. I was more youthful then.

We were alone when we first moved to Pennsylvania. Far from family and friends. The pool became a place to pass time. Eventually, we’d run into all sorts of people when we’d go to the pool. State College is a small world. But, in those early days, we were anonymous. We’d spend the afternoon at the pool, grab dinner from Wegmans, and spend a lazy summer afternoon together. I miss those days. They were hard and good. Most days, I’m discovering as time passes, are hard and good.

I always thought the boys would go down their first waterslides at Park Forest pool. This was not the case. The pandemic happened and then, after that, we were in Iowa. And so the first waterslides that Solomon and Samson braved were in North Liberty. Go figure. Things, I’m discovering as time passes, rarely go as planned.

Anyway. It was fun going down waterslides. My kids thought so too. Whee.