Going Off The Deep End

Articles

Gloria Diaz

Going Off The Deep End
July 12, 2003

I read an article in our local evening paper about how diving boards in public pools are becoming a thing of the past.

It’s not just a local trend, I guess it’s sweeping across the nation. And it saddens me. isn’t going off the high dive like some sort of childhood rite of passage? Because there it was: 10, 12 or 15 feet up. Once you climbed the steps to go up, there was only one way down aside from total humiliation. And that was into the deep end from the business end of the board.

But diving boards are on the way out, all in the name of safety and liability concerns. And more and more I’m thinking, if I live long enough, I may see the day when recreation becomes risk-free. And totally pointless.

By getting rid of the diving boards, pools are also getting rid of the deep ends. A lot of public pools will have areas no more than five feet deep, and will not be the familiar rectangular shape. You don’t need a deep end if you don’t have a diving board. And since a lot of people go to pools without actually swimming, there are no need for swimming lanes.

I run into this problem a lot whenever I do go swimming. I’m probably the only adult my age in the pool that actually swims laps. My favorite local pool is in a town six miles away from where I live. They designate a rest period every hour, and at that time, adults are welcome to swim. When that happens, nearly the entire pool is mine to swim laps. Sometimes I have to dodge lovey-dovey couples who drift aimlessly and don’t care that they are in my way, other times I have to maneuver around obese matrons who probably think they are burning several hundred calories because they are “swimming.” Let’s get serious: these women are standing in chest-deep water, bobbing a little bit perhaps, maybe waving their arms a bit. As for swimming the width of the pool, I’m willing to bet they don’t do it because they can’t.

I on the other hand, diligently swim back and forth until I’m not quite totally exhausted, but feel like I’ve received some sort of workout. Granted, I’m not thin, but I’m probably in a little bit better shape than the women my age who are just standing there.

So I’m sad that diving boards are disappearing. I’m not a big fan of getting water up my nose, so I don’t use them on a regular basis. When I do though, it’s almost like a mystical experience, an escape from the world. On the hottest day, going off the high board means eventually plunging into water that gets blessedly cooler. My feet feel it first, then it envelops my entire being. My body only allows me so much time in the deep end; I am back in the mystical, cool blue place before I float back into the world. On a less introspective note, it’s fun to see the people who do go off the deep end trying to attempt fancy dives, or try to get the lifeguards wet by cannonballing into the pool off the high board.

But society, worried about lawsuits by people who are smart enough to know better, but can’t accept the fact they screwed up, wants to reduce the risk of recreation as we know it. Why is it that in the pursuit of making life safer, it seems way more dangerous than when I was a kid? I never wore a helmet while riding my bike, never wore a seatbelt on a regular basis until a few years ago, played on playground equipment that has long since been removed from parks and school property. And I made it to adulthood. Could be I was lucky, could be that I had enough common sense to realize riding my bike down a steep hill full of rocks would not be a good thing. And maybe I was just a bit more careful than the average kid.

Which makes me wonder about the future: I consider myself rather scared of things that other people blow off. If I’m such a chicken now, what will the future’s children be like? Will they refuse to get on a bike without a helmet? Will they refuse to go swimming without a life vest and a couple lifeguards present? Will the kids be so afraid of perhaps getting hurt they don’t try anything new or challenging or just a little bit dangerous?

If we learn life lessons through playing, and if that play is limited, where will our courage come from? Will we turn out a bunch of kids afraid to take any sort of risk? Life, as I’ve finally come to realize, is not fair, or easy or even fun at times. A lot of people endlessly struggle, then die. Some make it through okay. And others, through extremely hard work, or extremely lucky breaks, receive fame and fortune doing what it is they love.

In a way, it’s no wonder our nation is bursting at its collective seams. Here in the midwest, there are lots of obese people. There are lots of reasons for this, but in my town, they just don’t seem to get it. My friend once went swimming at the YWCA and had to pay $9 for the privilege. One high school’s swimming pool was ordered closed during the hottest months of the year because of budget cuts. By making exercise facilities pricey, or inconvenient, my hometown has made it easy to retain our status as being one of the fattest cities in the nation. And by reducing pools to little more than places to stand around and cool off while getting soaking wet, it deserves to retain its title as being a city of the obese.

I heard they are going to build an ice skating rink downtown. It’s going to be refrigerated, so even if the weather does its usual inconsistent temperature fluctuations, the rink will retain its iciness. I can’t wait to see what sort of safety regulations they will implement. I for one hope they will hand out strap-on pillows for our rear ends. Or they could put a series of padded railings around the rink so you can hold on as you slowly creep around. Because God knows we wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt now, would we?

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About the author: Gloria Diaz is an opinionated citizen of Generation X (member since 1967) who occupies herself by dabbling in photography, writing and as a written communications processing specialist for the government. She has written for several diverse publications including Scram, Spleen, The Fort Wayne Free Press, and for the Huntington County TAB. Email Gloria Diaz: Scoop5767@aol.com

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