When I was growing up in the sixties, going swimming was an integral part of my summer enjoyment. My town had a municipal swimming pool and it’s season began on Memorial Day and closed on Labor day. In the summer of my sixth grade year my mom determined that I was old enough to ride my bike to the pool without parental guidance. This was an amazingly liberating feeling for a 12 year old boy. Looking back on the feeling I’m not sure why it was any different from delivering newspapers at 5:30 in the morning alone, which I had been doing since I was eleven. Oh, now I remember, there were girls at the pool.
There was a lot of preparation to look casual when getting ready to go swimming. First, your hair had to look good. Next the fashion of the day for young men was to wear a button up top that matched one’s swimming trunks. If the top had a design on it that matched your trunks, it was the epitome of style. Following that, arrival time and with whom you arrived was quite important. Showing up with more than one buddy made you look like the neighborhood gang was descending on the scene. Riding up alone signaled that you were not popular and left you destined to swim alone. Also, when you got there was factored in to your achievement of coolness. No guy ever wanted to be the first to arrive. That’s when the girls were staking out where they were going to put their towels for sunbathing. Those towels were also strategically placed to watch the arrival of the guys. The girls rarely ever moved except to turn over or to apply more sun tan lotion. Swimming was out of the question. Swimming caps were required for females at the city pool and most girls my age would not be caught dead with one on.
So, once the girls had achieved their desired location, the boys began to trickle in. Bikes were parked in the racks, locks for the wheels were not yet a necessity, and a causal stroll up to the concession stand began the proceedings. Once outfitted with the obligatory soda and straw, the guys headed to the far end of the pool, ignoring the girls all together. Well, not all together, a sideways glance to see who had dared to wear a two piece suit was definitely in order. Now, as the guys started arriving in pairs and dropping their towels indiscriminately, the mating dance began. Guys had come to swim and look and girls had come to be seen. In to the pool, the guys jumped, to discuss what girl had on the skimpiest bathing suit. Inevitably this conversation led to a dare that including leaving the pool and talking to the aforementioned young lady.
To achieve the culmination of this dare, a guy exited the pool, retrieved his drink and towel then casually sauntered up to his intended target. Upon arrival, he asked for permission to put his towel down and for a few seconds became the object of attention for everyone at the pool. If the young lady gave her permission then a transistor radio was placed on the ground between the towels and a conversation began. However, if the invitation were declined the boy had to retrace his steps, drop off his soda and towel and re-enter the pool. Asking another girl was forbidden because the second invitation was viewed by the recipient as if she were the booby prize and she was not interested in that designation. Once back in the pool the boy who had just his private life play out in public, was accepted back into the pack as if he had just had an unsuccessful ride on a bucking bronco. Success was not in the ride it was in the courage to make the attempt. Generally, one attempt per pool visit was the most a guy could muster up enough courage for that one day.
As this adolescent practice played out during the day, the guys began to realize something that became much more apparent , the older they became. They had very little control over the agenda when it came to dealing with opposite sex. Some guys were quicker to realize this fact and most often were the ones that had longer and more successful relationships with their girlfriends.
Soon the sun began to signal late afternoon and most young people were required to be home, for supper, at a designated time. Towels were retrieved , one last walk by the girls was accomplished and bicycles were mounted for the ride home. Many serious discussions, about how we were going to approach the girls tomorrow, echoed down the streets and alleys as we made our way to our houses. The sunburn that we earned had already began to hurt , but our minds were working on our next twelve year old approach to the perils of manhood. Little did we know it then, but the art of social interaction was getting a good start at the local swimming pool, while we were growing up in the sixties.
