(The ritual of the 2010 Big Pink closing ceremony, Big Pink’s 2010 season. Left to right, Chad, Jiggs, Vic, Joe, Jeremy, Mrs. Hitler, Manda, Sarah-with-H, Mardy-2. Choreography Mary Margaret. Photo Manduley)
 
My sister Anook called and caught me by the pool. Well, it would be hard to catch me anywhere else on the last weekend the glorious blue water-haven is open.
 
I was going to head down to the Farm on Saturday, but the skies were a bottomless blue and the winds light, caressing the naked skin, and the water was…well, the water sucked. Leo the Engineer couldn’t get it right this season, and it was the temperature of bath water. They shut down the heater in the afternoon, and it was actually almost refreshing by Sunday.
 
I needed to say “hi!” to Heckle the feral cat and check the mail, so I dashed down to Brandy Station early Sunday, before the traffic picked up, and the weather held. Bold and blue as the water of the pool, it was, and perfect for doing exactly nothing except treading water in the deep end, arms fully extended on each cycle, legs kicking vigorously with no impact whatsoever on the stupid painful aching knees.
 
I did seventy minutes on the first session, and when I padded over to the table by the designated smoking section, I saw that Anook had rung me up. It made me go to full alert, since she is my indications and warning (I&W) of potential jailbreaks up in Michigan. As the nearest kid to the little village by the bay, it would fall to me to get up there and restore order.
 
I called her immediately on one of the two cells phones I carry in the pool bag.
“Yo, kiddo,” I said when she picked up. “what’s up?”
 
“Well,” she said, “I just talked to Big Mama, and she informed me she had a new secret plan to get her car back.  She is aware the car has been hidden from her- she has not forgotten that part.”
 
“So no break-out?”
 
“No. She and Raven are still in Potemkin Village. She was very open about the plan, though. I reminded her I was one of the enemy who imprisoned her. She had forgotten.”
 
“That is the insidious nature of this thing. I guess we are always starting at the beginning,” I said thoughtfully, looking at Montana’s nut-brown skin as she dozed on the lounge chair in the brightest corner of the pool deck with a towel over her face.
 
“Big Mama told me she was going after our brother when he gets up there, and that for sure he will here and her the car back.  I told her to go for it and separate him from the herd.  I wished her luck with “the weak link” and hoped she enjoyed watching him cry like she made you and me cry.  Big Mama said Ike doesn’t cry.”
 
“That is bullshit. He is the most sensitive of the three of us. Remember the Guinea Pig funerals?”
 
“No kidding,” she said. “I told her he would weep if she acted the way she did with me and you.  We actually laughed through the whole conversation, but the full Bug Mama has made a plan that she has retained and is planning on putting into full effect upon Ike’s arrival.”
 
“I suppose I ought to call him and warn him about what is coming.” I shivered a bit as water dripped from my black trunks onto a widening puddle on the concrete. I serve as a sort of intermediary in the moderate dysfunction of our nuclear family, and am happy to do so.
 
“Wish him good luck,” Anook said. “When I go back in November I will have my daughter with me for self defense.”
 
I thanked her again for all her good works over the summer, and told her I loved her. I was just stabbing at the red icon to ring off when Jiggs lumbered up and pulled out a chair from under the blue-and-white umbrella.
 
“You been in the water yet?”
 
I nodded, but said I was willing to go back in.
 
“Mary Margaret and Joe are going to throw a little soiree on the patio to commemorate the end of the season. Then how about grilling about my place with Mrs. Hitler?”
 
I said that sounded wonderful. “I can’t believe it is over. Fastest summer in history.”
 
We threw ourselves back in the water. I looked around at the throng on the deck, biggest crowd of the summer. Manda had a group of Booz consultants in the shallow end, Little Eva had the entire extended family camped out on the other side, and the Professor was enjoying a late lunch under an umbrella with complete disregard for Rule 14, which clearly and explicitly bans the possession of edible materials on the pool deck.
 
“Is he eating?” asked Jiggs.
 
“Who gives a rat’s ass,” I responded. “Screw the rules.”
 
“Argh,” said Jiggs like a Pirate. “Hoist the Jolly Roger!”
 
Dianna Ross was puffing a furtive cigarette under the Designated Smoking Sign with Jim from Alaskan Airlines. The Banana and Jess were performing for the little ones of the State Department Family from Hell. Devon walked by with his roller bag and airline uniform, just back from Dubai.
 
Jeremy and Chad came down from their aerie on the fifth floor and splashed in. Joe and Mary Margaret made the rounds and told everyone to be on the patio at five-thirty for complementary cocktails and hors d’oeurves.
 
We paddled for about a half hour, as the sun declined behind the trees that cloak the Assembly of God and talked about improbable retirement schemes. Joe waved from his patio to signify that the bar was open. Mary Margaret was bringing out platters of thinly-sliced sausages and cheese. We stole the porch chairs from Tony’s place on the way to Joes to accommodate the throng.
 
“He won’t mind,” said Jiggs. “He is not going to be home until late tonight anyway.”
 
Jeanne came down, and Sarah-with-H came over from next door with Ernie the Dog. A civilian-couple-with-no-names yet were passing by and invited in. They just arrived in Big Pink, too late in the season to really get integrated, and their eyes were wide with the outbreak of extended family fun. .
 
Dinner got lost on the way to closing, and no one seemed to care. With twenty minutes to go, the whole crowd migrated back onto the pool deck. Some of us went in, wondering if Mardy-2 was going to show off her bra and panties again this year. Family is special.
 
Some rituals are just too good to let pass. I realized I had to call Big Mama in Michigan and wish her good night, another ritual as profound as this one, even if she wouldn’t remember tomorrow.
 
Was I the last in the water this year, for the ninth consecutive season?
 
You bet your sweet ass.

Copyright 2010 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
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