the sand pit

We used to have a pool when I was young – that threshold of conscious memory young. The pool was one of those above-ground numbers, circular, with a deadly metal ledge. My sister had a pool party for her birthday one year. I will call it her twelfth birthday party. There were kids galore - running, screaming, frolicking, and of course splashing. The pool was alive with small arms, legs, and the occasional swimmy. We called them “fugles” in the Rossi house.

I still call them fugles. As if that’s a problem.

A plan was hatched, unbeknownst to Ma and Pa Rossi.. The kids in the pool decided they would swim around the circumference to generate the mother of all above-ground whirlpools. They were successful. It was amazing. A vortex of swirling, chlorinated goodness, right in my backyard! Amazement turned to parental horror when the side of the pool blew out, spewing gallons of water and tangles of twelve-year olds onto the yard. Oh, how I wanted to traverse that mighty river. My little feet carried me in the direction of the flow. A restraining hand on my little arm prevented any such adventure whatsoever. Mom was quick.

So, away the water went, down around the big tree, and into Auntie Hilda’s yard. I wonder if any of it went into her pool. I can’t quite recall. Either way, that was the end of the above-ground pool.

The death of the pool brought the sandpit into existence – a pool size indentation in the earth full of sand and pebbles. It became the canvas for imaginary, epic struggles between marauding hordes of monsters and immobile, but fierce, green army men. I loved that sand pit. I excavated canals, built forts and encampments. Created natural disasters. Anything that would leave me covered head to tow in dirt and grit. The sandpit was the backdrop for whatever world I thought up on any given day. I’m not sure what made me think of it just now.

Welcome to my new blog. I’m self absorbed, pretty much anyone that loves me can a test to that. I’m a musician. I play in two bands. I’m a writer. I just finished my first novel and I’m busy on several short stories, and the planning of the next epic. I’m an amateur astronomer (don’t believe me?). I’ve been called a renaissance man. In truth, I just have an attention deficit problem. For years, I had trouble finishing things I started. I still have difficulty. What I do have is a new determination and a supportive woman to make sure that I do actually finish some of my various projects. Project that thus far have turned out to be worthwhile.

So, enjoy this blog. I’m sure there will be many entertaining anecdotes.