Naked Pool Land

I have had a swimming pool in every place I have lived since the ancient year of 2000. Yet in this time, I have been actually in these pools just once. Never have I stopped to enjoy the amenities and go for a swim. Mostly I blame the people living in the neighborhood overrunning the pool with their loud noise, and feral children. There’s nothing worse than a child enjoying its self. I kid.... kinda. 

I know it’s not swimming as a concept because I can spend the whole day naked at Denver’s bathhouse outdoor pool. Maybe I hate my local pools due to having to wear trunks. Probably so. As summer has arrived, it’s probably time to make a trip to naked pool land. 

I was determined to actually use the pool near my new house. And by near, I mean if I’m not careful leaving my front door, I’ll fall in. As it opened on Memorial Day.  Within half a day an email was sent out the the pool had to be closed due to broken glass being found in the pool bottom. Hours after it’s opening. So... okay. Guess I’m not getting in that pool either.  Off to the naked pool.  

Hiking

I went on my first hike of the summer last weekend. It was a "date hike" so that was pretty awesome. A strange sense came into my mind in the middle of the hike. The person I was hiking with, spent the whole hike matching my stride and speed. This made me aware that sometimes I hike at a slower than "standard" speed for the trail, mostly due to my desire to soke up the atmosphere. However; our hike, around Dillon Resivour was perfectly matched in speed and gate. 

The reason I was thinking about this was that in the last several years, my hiking partner had a faster speed, and quicker movement. I always had a feeling I was never keeping up with the movement on the hike. Never did I acknowledge this, but internally I began to avoid hiking due to this mid-match in hiking philosophy. Simply to stop an activity I enjoyed due to a partner radiating a sense of "ineptness" in my speed and style. 

Yet, hiking with a person who matches in style, and also has consideration, rekindled my passions for hiking. 

Minuteman

The family is attempting to schedule our Father’s Memorial. It is a bit difficult to get seven kids and seven grandkids in one place, but we are shooting for August. It’s a bit strange working with four sisters on this. Mostly because they all had, what seemed to be a close relationship with their Dad. For me, he was a total stranger. Not a necessarily bad relationship, just not a relationship at all. Now, I tend to think this started with the public acknowledgement of my fabulous gay-ness, but it is more than this. As far back as I remember, there was the family dynamic trope of a Dad spending time and energy on the daughter and no effort on the sons. Even as a kid I knew was the status quo. 

This is in no way a negative statement or an an angsty blog post about my relationship with my Dad. It’s more an examination of how kids can have differing viewpoints on their parents based upon birth order. Also, I was explaining to a friend on where the memorial was to be held. As kids, our parents took us to a camp site and picnic place in Northern Colorado. Every family outing was in the same place.  Even at the time, in the mid-eighties, we knew the location wasn’t just a picnic ground and hiking trail. It doubled as a then active Minuteman Missile launch site. Picnic tables and nature trails woven around concrete blast doors covering armed nuclear missiles. 

"Woah! That’s fucked up!" Exclaimed my friend. "Meh, it was the eighties. They were everywhere." Yet, I began to think of the irony. The only positive family memories I have where played out on top of weapons of mass destruction. To which my Mother would tell me not to worry about it, because we would all be raptured if they were launched. 

So, I guess I’ll bring deviled eggs to the picnic / memorial / return visit to the Minuteman Missiles. 

Al Fresco

Well, this is a turning point my friends. Summer starts, and I begin to demand that I only eat out on restaurant patios. This demand is placed upon all friends that ask "where do you want to eat?" Last Friday Jimmy was able to oblige and we ate al fresco at the very tasty Uno Mas, on Denver’s famous 6th ave. This was followed by my first visit to a Denver gay bar in just about three years. I know, it boggles my mind too. Daddy’s on Sixth was a great "Friday after work" kind of place. They also had a patio. 

Saturday brought a long hike around Dillon  reservoir, followed by a sunshine filled lunch. Sunday Brunch was Syrup on City Park, where my stunning date and I, sat in the sunshine and ate coconut French toast. 

So if Memorial Day is any indication of how the Summer May create itself, then it may just be a  great summer.