Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Chlorine dreams

I took the kids to the old outdoor city pool yesterday. The smell of chlorine, the gritty pool deck, the teenage lifeguards in red and white, the clear blue water...love it. It's fun to hang out there and just watch people....imagine their lives, their secrets....laugh a little at the wackiness of humanity. A pregnant lady wore a white t-shirt to cover herself. What does one think will happen when one hops in a swimming pool wearing a white t-shirt? A mother accidentally bonked her son's head on the dressing room wall, then burst into tears herself, their cries echoing through the cavernous pool basement. A bunch of macho boys were playing water hoops with pink ball. I think it used to be red before the sun and chlorine got to it.

The water sounds reminded me of a secret hot springs we used to go to along a river. We had to hike there along a treacherous path in the dark -- part of the adventure. We carried in beer and pot. There were maybe four or five holes along the wild, rushing river carved by the water itself into the basalt and filled with sulphury steaming springwater. The moment of stripping naked and slipping into that hot water ranks up there in Top 10 Best Life Moments. The water didn't smell like chlorine, it smelled like leaves...and spawning salmon. The air smelled like sulphur and pot.

There's a great post over at Lust Bites about "Feeling the Past," exloring ancient ruins like Roman baths and the brothels of Pompeii. My chlorine dreams got me thinking about other sexy places. Not ancient places, but old places. Places in the American West beyond the stereotypical saloon brothel. Deserted places. Hidden places. Like the little attic place above the water wheel at the grist mill. The pioneer church. The barn loft. The soft meadow grass next to the spring where the horses drink. The cool, dark sandstone cave.

I was listening to Billy Idol on my iPod at the pool --"Love Calling" the rub-a-dub mix. The chubby mothers and the wet t-shirt contest lady and the tanned lifeguards and tattooed dads and gripey kids fighting over goggles and floaty toys were all bobbing around to the beat of Billy. It was perfect.

Walk without a sound
Fire in the mountains now
If you wanna rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub
If you wanna rub-a-dub, dub love
Love calling, love calling
If you wanna rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub
If you wanna rub-a-dub, dub love
Love calling
So baby rock on
Clap hands, clap hands
For the song man


Craig Sorensen said...

I grew up in Idaho, and I have a few "Hot Spring" memories of my own.

You drew them out with this post.


KM said...

Hi Craig! I'm so glad it brought out some good memories. I love Idaho. One of my favorite places in the whole world is the Salmon River through the Gospel Hump Wilderness.