Memorial Day encapsulates the American dream with the blood and tears of our fallen soldiers. We should honor the dead and ensure that what they fought for remains true. No matter what your image of these great United States is.
Now, Memorial Day has changed from yesteryear. I can remember spending my Memorial Day weekends visiting the graves of my ancestors and remembering who they were and what they meant to my family. I doubt I'm alone in that regard, but as the years passed and I started a family of my own, we decided to take in the summer kick-off at the local pool.
Took me five minutes to remember what that was like. It was a ton of fun and the people watching was marvelous.
I'll begin with the array of horrendous tattoos on bodies that didn't warrant one. I can say this as someone who shouldn't have a tattoo. I lack the definition required to really make it count. There are plenty of tasteful tattoos out there.
There are tattoos that hold a deeper meaning for that individual. I'm not against tattoos, but my god Tinkerbell doesn't need to be that close to a butt crack. I imagine Walt would appreciate it after a few cocktails and a cocaine fueled binge. The years faring poorly on the grim reaper as he too drooped to the floor. His menacing grim now a Droopy Dog mockery. The handle bar tramp stamp that lacked a throttle so I'll assume it was a Huffy.
The beginning of the summer pool season also marks the annual migration of the great North American ape. The hairiest of the hairy come from near and far to let their sunscreen soaked body smock glisten in the sun. A few folks were more hair than man and I have to wonder if all that air raises their central body temperature to dangerous levels on a hot day.
I can't really say I blame these men (and women?) for just going about their business. We call can't be the next Michael Phelps. As long as they don't shed in the pool we're good, but just in case there is a fun product to help. Perhaps there was a previous article about it? Maybe take a look? Nah, you do what you want. You be you.
Did you ever play ghosts in the graveyard? Well, the first day at the public pool brings out the specters in a lot of us, including myself. It almost takes work to look like a sheet of tissue paper. I'm sure when I walked up to the edge of the pool people busted out the shades and averted their gaze. A thick layer of SPF 30 (living on the edge) was all that kept my milk toast skin free from the perils of vitamin D. Lord knows I wouldn't want to overdose on the stuff. I wasn't alone though, if you weren't paying attention you'd swear you were at a interpretive presentation of Powder.
A trip to the public pool wouldn't be complete with the people that are way too scantily clad for that setting. That bikini that is a bit too small in all the wrong (right) places or that speedo being used to smuggle that baked potato. Camped out next to the kiddie pool hoping that guy or girl sees your glorious bod waiting to shoot their shot. It's not like those kids know what a g-string is anyways right? Before Amazon I always wondered where you might but these suits short of a lingerie store. Then test it out at the local pee tank to see if you get the heads to turn. Pretty much no matter what you look like if you're wearing basically nothing SOMEONE will look. Either in disgust or coy intrigue. You'll get your looks.