THE FOURTH OF JULY

The Watergate condominium complex, housing some two thousand souls, boasted four outdoor swimming pools. The largest had been set aside for a July 4th celebrations.
Marcia and I discussed the pros and cons of attending. We began with the cons.

“It will be mobbed,” I started.
“And noisy,” Marcia added
“And BBQ smoky,” I emphasized
“And babies will be crying,” Marcia cried
“And the music will be awful,” I said with conviction
“And the activities childish,” Marcia pouted
“0kay that’s it. Can you speak for the pro side?”
“There’s no pro side,” Marcia said
“Right, let’s relax and have a nice, quiet, lazy day.”

We were busy relaxing and having a nice, quiet day when the door buzzer sounded.
“Who can that be,” our eyes said, as we reluctantly disengaged.
It turned out to be some very distant friends who were unfortunately not distant anymore. Distant friends should call from a distance before dropping by. We can then say, “Sorry, we were just going out.”

We quickly reversed our earlier decision. “We were thinking of attending the 4th of July celebrations at poolside, come join us, we added slyly.” We reasoned conversation would be impossible down at poolside, a tremendous plus when dealing with bores.
We could always try to deal them to others by some fast diplomatic shuffling. “We would like you to meet … “

Every sun deck chair was taken in the cemented area surrounding the el shaped pool. The sloped, grassed area circling the cemented portion was no less busy. Bodies lay stacked like so much cordwood.
We picked our way carefully through the human debris and were finally able to stake out twelve square inches of ‘Coney Island’ real estate.

We looked around and immediately began to feel our age. There were some fifteen hundred souls, ranging in age from the sublime to the ridiculous. There was a preponderance of the ‘sublimes’, those ranging in age from twenty to forty.

I tested the airwaves. “Makes me feel kind of old,” I shouted as loudly as I could. Success-- There was no reply. We could be spared further conversation. The modern band blasted away, combined with babies crying, people trying to make conversation and the exuberant shouts of the water volleyball participants, all music to my ears. I could retreat into my shell like a snail. Marcia was already in hers. From time to time we emerged, smiled socially and retreated, secure in the knowledge we could do no better hosting under the circumstances.

We silently watched a variety of water races.
Some were under water, some were over water. Others involved paddling madly while seated on a rubber tire. For additional variety they had the boys and gals encase the lower part of their bodies in plastic bags and swim like mermaids across the pool. Prizes were awarded for the best, for the worst and for the funniest divers. Oh, the boundless energy of youth.

There were hundreds of colorful balloons hanging from wires suspended on posts. More colorful were the skimpy G String bathing suits pasted on bodies that were anorexic for the most part. Other paraders had too much territory to cover but insisted on using the minimum to cover the maximum. Where were the happy mediums?

Some forty water-logged players were still swiping at a water-logged ball. Their awkward antics accompanied by squeals, whoops, and terrific applause when a point was scored.

Young people firmly believe they will live forever and a day, surgeon general be damned. The younger element were lighting up all around us, we mature citizens, aware of our mortality, stopped breathing. More smoke was coming from the BQ units furiously turning out dogs, burgers and chicken for the flesh eaters – there were very few vegetarians in the eighties. I must confess that we ate everything in sight when we were young, and smoked like chimneys as well. Now we can adopt a holier than thou attitude.

The band was still hep, hip, hopping and decibel taunting. The young folk, already half deaf from previous musical outpourings, did not seem to mind at all. They clapped, they hummed, and gyrated in time to the music. Oh, to be young again.

Hours passed. The sun continued to bear down relentlessly and the music continued to drive us up a wall. Every baby, and there were lots of them, continued to bawl, children yelled, the gamesters continued to cheer, smokers coughed, and our ‘distant’ friends seemed content to spend the entire day with us. I was desperate and out of this desperation, an idea was born. I leaned over, put my mouth against ----the male ear or our friends from another time another place and shouted, “Gotta go up and check for possible calls. Be right back.”
I came racing down “Daughter’s sick,” I said with all the emotion I could muster, “We’ll just have to call it a day.”

“Marcia,” I said as we lay recuperating in our king sized bed, one of our favorite hangouts, “I’m looking forward to the 5th of July.”
“Why darling,” she asked, stretching luxuriously.
“So I could put the 4th behind us forever and ever, “ I said, nibling her ear playfully.