Here it is, the end of summer.

When I was a kid we swam every day at a nearby club.  Come Labor Day, the pool was closed with a big splashy bash, a tropical luau.  Hawaiian shirts, grass skirts and leis all around. Many highlights, but one was a family swim meet featuring mixed relays, moms and sons, dads and daughters.  My mom was a good swimmer so my brother would win silver plate trophies, even engraved with the event.  But my sisters and I were doomed to the empty hand because my father wasn’t a swimmer, he’d gamely do a race for us (that’s true love) but we would never win.

A grand buffet kept us all fed, the highlight, a roasting pig. It was all luscious especially the desserts. I suppose there was even poi. The bar wasn’t “open” but the adults were well-lubricated anyway, I do remember that.

The absolute thrill for my sisters and me was the porpoise show.  There in our pool were porpoises jumping through hoops and generally wowin’ us kids.  Then, as the sun went down, the pool was magically set alight, but that was just a prelude for the big fireworks display that ended the day, the festivities, the swim year, and the summer. Oohs and ahhs to be sure, it was the real deal.  (The next day my pyromaniacal brother and his crew would scrounge around the area gathering up the unspent shells – it’s a wonder they all still have their original fingers and toes.)

And then it was back to school. *sigh*