(Treading Water at the end of the Regular Season. Self portrait by Susan Jacobs. http://www.susanjacobsart.com).

I saw the Verizon trucks here on Saturday morning before leaving for the farm. The last time they were here running fiber in Big Pink, Comcast went stupid for a week.

Is this a moment in which the nefarious Phone Company is playing at sabotage to convince us that FiOS (fiber optic system) is superior to the lackadaisical approach to customer service by the cable monopoly? If the outages are a strategic attack on coverage of the two Conventions, I am in favor of it.

I can’t bear to deal with what passes for a customer service center in Metro Manila. Not that I do not enjoy talking to “Skip” from Luzon. But there is no information there, and no satisfaction. I saw that things were still out when I got back from the pool. We had decorated Konrad the Polish Lifeguard like a Christmas tree in preparation for his ride back to the group house on his bicycle.

I contributed a bottle of Absolute Citron. Cindy from the sixth floor had an icy cold beer from her refrigerator upstairs, there was a container with a huge slice of Maury’s birthday cake from the ceremony at poolside earlier in the day, and two or three plastic sacks of mementoes from the appreciative pool users. We were concerned that he would fall over with the number of bags, particularly after a couple shots of Absolute, but he was serenely confident.

His teeth gleamed in the early dusk, his rich tan helping him to fade into the background like the Cheshire Cat.

Maury is sweet, if a bit mysterious. She is 91 or so this season, and still swims twice a day. She was part of the original cadre of employees at the CIA, and still won’t talk about anything except that she used to travel a lot. She must have been a looker, back in 1948.

I take an interest in her health, since she is still driving and has the parking space next to mine where the Panzerwagen now rests between missions.

I got the last real workout complete in the afternoon under gray skies and went back up to the unit to cook dinner and read until seven, and then gathered my equipment to support the last push to The End. Radio, cigarettes, lighter, towel, iPad and travel cup filled with clear adult beverage.

There is a subtle protocol to the end of the Regular Season. I set up camp under my usual umbrella. Montana had her cushions and Discman at her place near the smoking area she hates so vehemently.

I kept my eye on the State Department lady who was swimming with her little girl. I jumped back in with about ten minutes to go. They continued to swim lengths, nearly getting out one time before coming back in. They did not want to leave, and I was too delicate to tell them that the Regular Season was over. Everyone mourns the passing of the summer in their own way.

Montana gathered up her stuff and walked out of the pool. There had been a time when we agreed to split the difference- she could be the last on the pool deck if I got the honor of last out of the water. It was a sort of Demeter and Neptune thing, a compromise. Not tonight. She glared at me as she walked out, so there could be a competition coming Sunday night, two weeks hence, which in football terms, would be the Super Bowl to this night’s ending of the Regular Season.

Eventually, with the minute hand of the clock on the pink brick wall stood straight up, and they walked up the steps. I followed behind, and was the last one out. We were all toweling off when I saw the little girl run back to the edge of the pool and stuck her legs back in to bathe them one last time.

I ensured that I dragged my flip-flop through the water when she and her Mom departed the gate. Done. Deal sealed. I squashed over to where Konrad stood before the pile of stuff he intended to carry off on his bicycle. Doc came out to say good-bye; the snowbirds are preparing to flea for warmer climes and this really is it for her and John and the grandkids Olivia and Tenley.

That little dark-haired young women who came around to hand on Konrad’s every word was there as well, and Cindy and I left the two alone after toasting the end of the Regular Season of swimming. The two, bonus weekends of swimming loom- the pool is still completely functional even if it remains padlocked during the week. I will have to transition to some other form of workout at the end of the day and avoid slipping into a repetitive regimen of 12-oz. curls at the Willow Bar.

Going up in the elevator, we compared notes on what was to come. The last two weekends of the pool normally feature one of them with heavy dank rain, even if the official start of the Fall is not until the 22nd of the Month, and the clock adjustment not until the 4th of November.

The pool will open again on Saturday, 25 May, 2013 at ten AM. There may be some other stuff that happens between now and then. I think there is an election or something, maybe another war on top of whatever is happening in Syria without us, and what may happen with Iran. There could be a regular mess before the next Big Pink regular pool season rolls around again.

Maybe not, if we keep our wits about us. We can do this, fellow citizens. Not willingly, of course, but we can do it.

Copyright 2012 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com