once we were kings

This morning, having accidentally stepped out of routine, I ended up at Lions Pool to swim. The morning swim crew is a collection of silver-haired ladies, regulars who asked, "And who are you?" the moment I walked into the building. An elderly gentleman rounds out the group and their interrogation with the observation, "You're sitting in my place." Introductions were made while we waited for the pool to open, each of the swimmers introduced themselves, and the general conversation switched gears as one of the woman described Lions Pool as she knew it from childhood--in the 1940s. There was no building, or locker room, just a gravel spot for laying about in the sun, actually, she corrected, the shade as there were so many more trees then. It only cost a dime to swim there, in the era of nickel movies.

She had gone to Oakland High School, back when the school was housed in a majestic, pink, three-story building. In front, there was a circular garden patch, where each class buried their time capsule. Now, that area is the football field. I live next to OHS, a drab, stucco, low-slung affair. The students routinely trash the grounds and cover entire walls with gang-related graffiti. But I had to wonder, as I listened to her glowing description of this regal place, how today's students would feel, if they, too, could attend school in a castle.