1979 – any given summer day in Maryland suburbs
Franklin Knolls pool: Mom drops Becky and I off at 7:30 a.m. for frigid swim lessons. We have our supplies for the day – sunscreen, towels, lunch, 50 cents each for the snack bar. She will pick us up after work at 4 p.m. If it thunders we are to hitch a ride home with someone from our neighborhood.
It sounded like: My Sharona, Knock on Wood, Endless Love, The Logical Song, Shake Your Groove Thing, YMCA, We Are Family, Don’t Bring Me Down and Le Freak.
It tasted like: Ring pops, Bubble Burger Gum, Pop Rocks and Pixie Stix.
It smelled like: Chlorine, freshly mowed grass, hot asphalt and dirt.
It looked like: Blue and white umbrellas, Speedo bathing suits, deep SPF 2 tans, Lady Di and Dorothy Hammil haircuts, combs in back pockets of Sassoon jean shorts, terry cloth strapless tops and zoris.
It felt like: Solarcaine and sunburns, plastic chaise lounges sticking to legs, rough pool bottom tearing up toes, cool clear pool water 45 minutes of every hour, sweat, happy exhaustion.