Pool Reminiscing: Public and Private

When I first moved to Brentwood in the winter of 1997, I had no idea that for the first time in my short existence, my forthcoming summer would involve a nonstop agenda of swimming, swimming and more swimming. After finding out that the purchase of our first Brentwood home came with a Brentwood Swim Club membership, a highly coveted prize, I leapt for joy realizing that my hopes of having a backyard pool were unnecessary now. My dad explained to me that installing a waterfall would allow the property to look better and have a much higher resale value, but as you may guess, such ideas never seemed logical to a 5 year old.

That’s why I was happy that BSC existed. It was the place that I first ventured into a deep end with floaties. It was also the first place that I removed those floaties, and, at the same time, also retired from the strangely warm kiddie pool. After the young era came six years of swimming for Brentwood, hundreds of dollars wasted at the snack bar, and a solid tan I am currently missing.

Yet, just as progression in age caused me to “grow up” and ditch the bicycle, I drifted from the Brentwood Swim Club too. Like many preteens, my friends and I had an infatuation with Xbox, baseball and chicks. Our summers seemed so crammed that we forgot to pencil in the traditional activity of swimming. After I turned 14, I barely remember going up there. Something tells me my mom knew just the solution.

We moved to the opposite side of York Village during my eighth grade year, from Northcote to York Hills, with a little downsizing in mind. In my opinion, we upgraded. Though we dropped a story in stature, a soon-to-be renovated basement and a pool of my own enticed me to the smaller home.

With that new pool came something I had never experienced on a larger scale: privacy. I now am at an age that I wish to not deal with the burdens of public pool life, namely children under the age of 16 and the consequential possibility of an “accident." It’s safe to say that with a deep end of only seven feet, a lifeguard can take the day off at my house. For once, I could call it my pool, not the pool. It was an area designed for my dog, my friends and me.

That’s exactly what it became. Having my own pool changed everything. I grasped the perks of selective invitations, final say on any decision and the ability to act outside of the constraints of challenged behavior that needs to be upheld in public. In other words, privacy allows my guests to be themselves, not guests.

I do miss some things about the Brentwood Swim Club, though. Of course, you could never beat the atmosphere. I can’t forget the faint but definite ring of Y98 FM playing all day, every day. I wish I could still buy a Choco Taco whenever I wanted. The days of towel forts were nothing short of memorable, either.

So, truthfully, I can’t exactly tell you if privacy or atmosphere wins when it comes to a swimming experience. Both definitely have their upsides. I can tell you that writing this makes me appreciate the privilege of swimming in the summer, not just for the tradition but also the fact that I am lucky enough to have my own pool. My mom and I may not have our BSC membership anymore, but as I look to my left out of my basement window, I know that behind some hydrangeas lies my pool, currently with a broken automatic pool cleaner known to my friends as “Humphrey II,” the offspring of our first automatic pool cleaner, and water just a bit colder than last week due to the rain. Regardless, it’s still there, and it’s absolutely enticing me to jump in.