Open Swim

[openswim]

Bang Bang: Hamlin Park and Chase Park

Of my many summer activities, the one I often neglect to bring up is job rejection; one particular morning, I woke up with the intention of pulling off a north-end “Bang bang” by hitting Hamlin Park and Chase Park in one day before playing a show back in the Ukrainian Village. Before any of that could happen, I had to wait for a call from a local company that I had interviewed with the week before. Earlier in the week, I had a spidey sense it wasn’t going to happen.

I’ve had the same spidey sense about every job I’ve hunted out. Not that I’ve been hitting the pavement that often, but positions that make sense to me in terms of employment just aren’t panning out. I spent most of my thirties in a unique and uncommon job, and now I’m out of it, and I’m still breathing from being out of it. I had one incredibly generous job offer from a kind and wonderful friend, but I balked at it because I felt that I would actually fuck it all up and let my friend down. Outside of that though, it’s been interviews, occasional freelance things, or these nebulous meetings where it’s concluded “well, (we) don’t really have a position open, but (we) did want to meet you.”

I leaned the back of my waist up against my counter and ate some oatmeal. “This isn’t going to happen. It should, it easily could, and it’s not going to.” One foot curled around the other, eyes affixed on a “Punk Flyer” my friend Michael drew. Dead silence. Phone rang. Job offer was passed on, I was given a reason why, I told them I completely disagreed with said reason, thanked them and  hung up.

“Fuck. Fucking failure legs.” I cried a little bit, while repeating two mantras



“That wasn’t what you thought it was going to be.”


“This is how it’s going to be.”

I grabbed everything I needed for the day--change of clothes (playing a show later,) swim gear, charger, notebook, phone, sunscreen, bike accoutrements and set out.

I have no idea what I want

I have no idea what I want to do next. I know what I’m good at, I know that what I’m good at doing can be mutated into various forms of work. My skills are fluid and are applicable to many different arenas. The center is usually dealing with people—making people feel comfortable, welcome, safe, and confidant in knowing why they’re in my realm and why I’m in theirs; this comes from both my parents and what they’ve done and continue to do. It’s just when you step out of this womblike world you’ve been in for eight years, and you’re alone, uncertain but also feeling quite comfortable in your new found freedom (look it’s not all bad! I sleep like a cherub most nights) finding “what’s next” or having to answer the inevitable “so what are you doing now?” feels very hollow.



“So what are you doing now?”


“Oh I’ve been at the pool.”  

The last six years of my employment saw many summer days at Hamlin Park. Tuesdays or Fridays, with my lovely friend Claire and then eventually Meredith, or sometimes Angie. Heck, the first time I kicked it with my friend Alissa (who’s a wonderfully kind and sweet yoga instructor living in Oakland) was at Hamlin. It was conveniently located by my work, and the swim times jived with whatever you would consider a “lunch” period at a place that didn’t necessarily exist within the Nine-to-Five paradigm. Claire sold it to me as “It’s a pool with mostly trophy moms” which meant kids in the shallow end, the large deck being left for those tanning and the deep end largely left to its own—a quiet, vast, welcoming area free of troubles. It was a good way to see Claire, get our lives and dilemmas straight in that way that only really close, solid friends can help you navigate through. 



This time though, it was different; and maybe it was just one thing that had me tripping, or maybe it was this one thing that my soul was feeling.  Maybe one thing begat the other, so let’s start with the obvious.

You see that? That’s the deep end now; a once mighty, noble, deep end, cold as the reality that’s being presented to me, blue as my insides turned hanging up that stupid phone call this morning, once nine feet in depth now reduced to five feet. 



I stood there in disbelief. Standing in a place I often would over the years, poising myself for a jump to initiate that afternoon’s small slice of bliss, knowing that if I were to jump now, I’d probably jam a foot, or a shin, left to only limply wade along whatever you want to call this “deep end.”



I looked around. No one cared. They were all young, attractive, seemingly had their lives together. One of these people could have easily looked at the notes of an interview, or looked over my resume without any prior knowledge and said “pass!” Realizing my bitterness setting in, I bailed. I said goodbye to my past; a place that once gave me joy, happiness, a peaceful respite  for my friends and I—a pause button from the constant thud of a brutal world—said goodbye cuz I’m never going back to this five foot dump again.  Twenty minutes, flat. Spent more time locking up my bike and changing.



City of Chicago, stop it with all the leveling of pools. Deep ends exist for many people for many reasons. 

Hamlin Park—it was grand, but see ya.



 


Hamlin Park 3035 N. Hoyne Ave. Facility Hours: 11:00 AM-7:00 PM Facility Phone: [phone]  Biking north on a straight shot up Damen, eventually cruising through the always charming Ravenswood viaduct, I reached Chase Park. Knowing I had a handful of free time, I went easy, giving myself time to breathe, to drink a fizzy water, and trying my best to make do with a frustrating start to my day. 

My friend Catie met up with me. Last year, Catie taught me how to sew—I still need to work on that. I figured it would be a good way to keep my hands busy while trying to quit smoking. Years ago the band I’m in, Fake Limbs, played a show in St. Louis and there was one particularly shifty looking punisher (a punisher is someone that doesn’t stay in their lane, doesn’t pick up on cues, will make sure you’re fully aware of their presence, etc.) that took a liking to the various aspects of my performance. He was trying to convince me to sneak into a very fancy looking building with very tall columns that had a soft light cycle illuminating it’s entrance. With a seemingly casual look of “dear lord, help me” Catie saved me from a potentially difficult situation. 



Chase Park is by no means, a destination; it is very much a neighborhood pool. I argued that this is a pool “For Losers” to which Catie became incredulous to our presence there. I didn’t necessarily mean “Loser” in a sad sack, “woe is me,” Bill Dautrieve/Jerry Lundegaard fashion. I meant it in a tribute to the disenfranchised, the outcasts. In high honor, the same league as Caddyshack, or Chris Gethard or Archie Shepp, “Loser” that you don’t find on a t-shirt. “Loser” that you find when you start your day with rejection, with loss, with hopelessness in your world. This is a pool for that. To remind you that “oh sure, life is a garbage, but at least you have this place that’s SHARES A FENCE WITH AN AUTOBODY SHOP that you can jump nine feet down into.” You won’t hear someone talk about how they only get all the oil and butter for their various diets exclusively at whole foods, but you will hear Peter Gabriel’s “Big Time” blaring from the garage next door while various drills and clangs go off.



It’s some loser vibes, and that’s TOTALLY OKAY! Alright look, here’s a conversation that we had. Catie: “It kinda sucks that none of the pools in the city have a night time swim strictly for adults.” Me: “I know! Like, what’s one more hour? The park is open til 11! But I imagine there’s some sort of budget crunch or maybe a curfew thing?” “It’d just be cool to find a pool where you could swim after dusk and maybe have a drink.” “I think there are some of those in Philly. Like bars that have pools. I can’t imagine what--” “Like, the insurance? I mean it does only take what, three inches of water to drown or something?” “Yeah, I bet the insurance is astronomical. Unless they make you sign some sort of waiver.” “I’d sign a waiver if it meant I could drink at a pool.” “Oh totally. I think I just discovered what my life is valued at. Just worth enough to give over to a bar.”

It’s an okay pool—efficient, small (But still a deep end!) and a kind staff on hand. What’s more, they have on record, the warmest shower’s to get into before and after your dip. Can’t say that for 90% of the pools that open swim has been discovering. To note: the last time I went to this pool was two years ago, because I had a break between playing sets with two different bands at a BBQ that was nearby. Like I said, not a destination, but a place when you’re in the hood, and feel like you need to hit it. Chase Park 4701 N. Ashland Ave. Facility Hours: 11:00 AM-7:00 PM Facility Phone: [phone]

[openswim]

River Park

River Park was essentially the reason why I started “Open Swim.” Over the spring, I started taking my bike along the north west side’s lauded North Shore Channel Trail; it’s a beautiful pathway along the North-north west side traversing up and down through treelines and riversides. Highly recommended in terms of early morning rides chasing the sunrise. A couple months ago, I had to have some work done on my automobile so I went to the only autoshop I can trust, Norm’s; I figured this would be a quick job (how long does it take to replace a drivers seat?) Without a book, or ipod in hand I was informed that the job would take “at least two and a half hours” dumb struck I decided “Oh, I’ll stroll through the park” as Norms was right across the street from Legion Park. Walking along the Channel Trail, I found myself venturing south from Legion to River Park, I discovered this little slice of heaven in the form of a giant pool tucked towards the back of the Channel Trail.

I frantically texted friends “I found a pool. We need to go to this pool.” For months, I thought about what this would look like in a full summer bloom. The river on one end, and this old ass brick Fieldhouse keeping watch from the east? The wide open skies of Chicago’s north end? How could you soundtrack this place? (Note--I think about soundtracking pools, but never really make mention of that here because this is about pools, and not really about music. That’s a rude thing to do, to insert your own curated soundtracks to places such as this. Open Swim don’t play that. Make your own soundtracks!) It was a constant daydream until last week.

Not too shabby River Park! Now, if you’re a person whom apparently “daydreams about swimming pools” you might say “why did I wait a whole month since outdoor swimming took off to come here?” Well, the main reason is the River Park Schedule did not have a single listing for an “Open Swim” time. You go to like, Smith Park or some such where there’s “Open Swim” and “Family Swim” and in a place such as that, “Family Swim” you get turned away unless you have a child. That’s some B.S. but I don’t contend with the rule in a situation like that, because there is open swim available and I’m not with my partner to argue the “Family” element. However where there is no “Open Swim” I’ll try to fanangle my way in. While I was successful, going on a lark based on my own theory of social contract/public policy can create anxiety. Getting turned away for simply trying to swim is heartbreaking, and the more hours I can log in a day free of public humiliation, the better. Return from a wonderful lunch and joyfully tenderhearted afternoon with my hermano, “The Aspirin Kid” (visiting from Panama) I ventured westward and pressed my luck.  

The nice thing about swmming during “Family Swim” is that most of the other people there are parents with their kids so the shallow end is packed, while the deep end is relatively desolate. The deep-end here is your typical six lane/nine feet dealie, but the tranquilty of it--the woods, the intimacy of the park itself, the natural splendor that it sits around is all too welcoming.

I cannot recommend this pool enough, but you have to be quick with it as the family swims are typically only an hour in length; if you’re looking for a good lap swim after a big old North Channel ride, River Park offers plenty of lap swim time. Easily the most tranquil pool I’ve found all year. River Park 5100 N. Francisco Ave. Hours: 11:00 AM-7:00 PM Facility Phone: [phone]

[openswim]

Union Park

This was a brief one, but also one that I had planned for years. I always joked about the convenience of a pool right next to the red stage during the annual Pitchfork festival.

“I’m not going, I’m just gonna hit the pool and listen to whomever.” But alas, I ended up going--and there was talk about members of the bands Bully and Waxahatchee meeting up to do an open swim, but rock n roll is complicated, and stage times and open swim times don’t always mix. After watching Bully’s blistering set (total proud parent moments throughout) I made a bee line out of the fest and over to the the adjacent pool for a quick dip, as the day began with thick humidity thanks to a storm from the previous night and another one on the horizon.

The clouds loomed over one of the stages while Future Brown performed. This did not bode well so a planned quick dip definitely had to be economical. It’s an okay pool; good deep end, typical six lanes and fifty yards. Only thing is, it’s old--and that’s not even a bad thing! While the lockers are busted and barely functioning, they have a soft blue hue and an antiquated layout. The outer facade of the main building is actually beautiful too. But in my mission to find the the pool with the maximum chill, this pool is just a pool.

It’s a fine pool for the neighborhood vibe, but it’s not the inspiring “metropolitan mecca” that Open Swim is looking for. Union Park Pool 1501 W. Randolph St. Hours: 11:00 AM-7:00 PM Phone: [phone]

[openswim]

The clouds above the Pulaski Park light tower

[openswim]

Dvorak Park

For a long time, all I knew about Antonin Dvorak was that the great jazz musician Roland Kirk would take the melody of “Going Home” and overlay it with “Sentimental Journey” via his multiple reed playing. The snarky side of my is still snickering at the origin for naming the park: “In recognition of the area's large Bohemian population, the West Park Commission named the park for Anton Dvorak (1841-1904), the famous Czech composer.“ It just makes me laugh thinking that if given the chance, some chooch in Pilsen would probably call a park like...”Death Grips Park.” Actually, “Death Grips Park” is a great name. “Grimes Park” too! “TuN3Y@Rds Park” not so much.  Same goes for “PC Music Park.” “Damian From Fucked Up Park” is a little too unwieldy I suppose. Man, I could do this forever. Something else I could do forever is have an amusingly punchy friendship with my dude Trina. I met them last year, and they’re just a genuinely heartfelt, sweet, funny person. They choose their words carefully, while still be able to think and feel out-loud and in the moment. They have a band here in Chicago called “Dudes Talking” and it’s one of the most terrifyingly uncomfortable and also completely mind blowing performances to emerge from one gorilla amp. I play in a rock band called Fake Limbs, and for a minute this year there was some speculation that I might be moving out of Chicago. I had pressed to my bandmates that Trina should be the only person to fill in the role of frontperson should I move. I still hold onto that--they’re tall, long, know how to look intimidating, know how to wear an outfit and know how to howl. They’re the only person that could do the job as well as I could (probably better.)

For them, Dvorak Park is a point of pride. They’d come here on the weekends to nap between their two jobs in Pilsen. The entire trip down from Humboldt they were insisting that this would be the greatest pool in the world. “I mean, what are you even looking for?” “I’m looking for the pool in the city with the most chill vibe. It doesn’t need to be wild, it doesn’t need a slide or a diving board, it just needs to transcend the euphoria of summertime.” “this will be that pool.” I had my hopes up, because I love Pilsen. It’s a great neighborhood, full of natural beauty and excellent food. My hopes escalated even higher when looking at the pool description on the parks website, I discovered the deep end listed at ELEVEN FEET! “Hell yes, lets get it.” Upon arrival though, it was clearly not the case as all the deep end had a year old paint job that read “six feet” and “NO DIVING.” I heard tell of this happening a lot more recently; two years ago at Blackhawk they didn’t even paint over it! Just had the lifeguards telling people not to dive because it’s only six feet deep instead of the nine listed. 2015′s scuttlebutt is around Hamlin as their revered deep end got leveled from a beautiful eleven feet to a mere seven.  “This doesn’t bode well” I thought, but we pressed forth, walking around the tiny 3.6 acre park in search of the entrance.

The pathway to the designated changing areas lead to a giant mural. Old, but beautiful much like the neighborhood.

Okay, we’re moving up! This is all a very warm and welcoming vibe!

In taking on this project, I’ve discovered the beauty of outdoor changing rooms. The open air eliminates the kind of murky dank that partially sunlit indoor changing room is known for. Plus, sun evaporates urine right?

Found your locker. It was a really breezy day, and we were trying to get  the last open swim in before the day was over. The amount of wind and mild air blowing through had me convinced I’d be jumping into a bucket of ice, but alas it was very warm and welcoming! I was able to actually let go of the fact that the deep end didn’t exist! The clouds would dance around the sun creating the delicate pulse of warm light to heat the pool. It was gorgeous. (crap, Trina might be onto something.)

The pool is sandwiched between old industrial work and a beautiful stoic park built of a bohemian aesthetic. Is there anything more appropriate for Chicago? Isn’t this what drew us all in, kept us here? That same juxtaposition lies on the set of “Studs Place” as it does in the warbled spools of a Ron Hardy bootleg. It’s what I felt the second I touched down here, it’s what I’m constantly chasing and know I can’t necessarily find in other cities.

I’m just trying to find the most chill pool in the city, and in the smallest park ever, it’s quite possible that we did. Between or chats about hype within the punk scene, the complications of masculinity and queerness, the hardship of service work, the magic of specific recreational drugs (jesus, is Dvorak controlling the entire park from the beyond? Right down to what we talk about?) we’d hit back to “man, this just feels so good.” The air was quiet even through a heavy gust of wind, the sun was still there even when it wasn’t and the water never got cold. When the whistle blew, Open Swim had changed over to Family Swim; we expected to be ushered out quickly as the protocol with most lifeguards is “fast, efficient turn-overs” and with both of us having service industry experience under our belts we waste no time getting out, but a life guard approached us. “We’re going.” “No, we just wanted to let you know it’s family swim now. You’re welcome to stay, but we’re just making sure all the childrens parents are here.” Unprecedented. Usually it’s a surly teen under some shades yelling as hard as they blew that whistle “OKAY FOLKS TIME TO GO!!” None of that here... we had burritos and tacos to get to anyway, but here it is--Dvorak Park. Goddamn, like going home. Dvorak Park 1119 W. Cullerton St. Facility Hours: 11:00 AM-7:00 PM Facility Phone: [phone] Swim Schedule

[openswim]

Riis Park

Jacob Riis was a muckraking photojournalist turned refrormer, most known for his groundbreaking piece “How The Other Half Lives” which documented the slums and squalid conditions of New York City’s lower class circa the 1880s. Established two years after his passing, the fifty six acre Riis Park is a shining example of what Riis referred to as “breathing spaces” from his advocacy for parks and playgrounds in largely populated urban locations. I was supposed to go to this park with my friend Amanda, but she had emergency dental surgery earlier in the week, and then a bizarre Saturday night involving her downstairs neighbors intoxicated daughter. “What is your life?” I asked. “What is YOUR life?” She fired back. “Well, I have this quasi pen pal in Oakland, right? And we send each other voice memos of our day. Friday night they sent me a response saying ‘I don’t know man, you just said your shopping list was light bulbs, condoms and new sandals.’” “You really have embraced this relaxed lifestyle. You’re working really hard to enjoy it all.” “Breathing space” is such an apt term to have discovered when reading up on Jacob Riis; my entire life right now is a breathing space. I left a job that I had for eight and half years back in April; there was a potential job on the table that--without any doing on my end--managed to evaporate, so I’ve just been “hanging out.” It’s crucial. As much as I loved my job (it’s seriously--to date--the greatest job I’ve ever had) burn out is real, and with a myriad of other personal stress last year, I broke. I gave up. I let the depression wreck me and several freindships/relationships around me. Quitting the job meant saving a handful of very important relationships. I saved up enough bread and have managed to carve out enough of a side hustle to survive and do things like this. I wake up, I answer some emails, I find a friend that has some free time, and I go to the pool. Other days, I ride the bike a bunch. Other other days I make cocktails or do a radio show. All of it a part of giving myself an emotional breathing space. En route to Riis Park, this all hit me; “your year was so rough that you NEED this because if you don’t, that muck will solidify.” That muck will keep you where you were last year (Thank goodness this all happened in the spring; I wouldn’t have lasted four minutes in the winter) and no one benefits from that. A walking, talking, sass-mouthed variation on the Joe Callicott number.

The breathing space that is Riis Park is pretty exceptional; fifty six hilly acres, with a myriad of facilities at one’s disposal. But really, just walking along the pond, or disappearing into the wooded nooks and crannies is a very serene way to forget where you are. Arriving a little too early for open swim, I gave myself a chance to walk around and take most of it in. I ran into a gentleman named “Moe.” “You work?” “Sometimes; I make drinks at a bar, but I mainly just go swimming right now.” “Well you know people? Maybe they’ll keep you connected.”

Returning back to the pool, it was a heavy scene of families waiting to get in; lifeguards ran it like a tight ship, making sure everyone had their swim gear, and efficiently getting people with haste. The locker room had plenty of space, to change and a separate bathroom from the actual locker room. I think my favorite charm of this changing area was the corridor of shower heads to make sure you were fresh before taking a dip. That negotiation of “Okay, I need to shower before this and all these shower heads are blasting ice cold water” is moot if you have to just catwalk a couple times through the various heads before hitting the deck.

the last open swim of the day is usually the most calm. Not a ton of activity, mostly youngins in the deep end. I stood at the edge of the deep end considering how I wanted to do this. I apparently stood too long because the lifeguard made me swim a lap to prove to him that I could swim and that I wasn’t just a fraidy cat. “You want a lap?” I thought I’d give him the best lap ever, but I messed up my breathing cycle and kept getting water in my mouth, slowing me down. Somehow I had proven my mettle, and was deigned access to the deep end.  The pool itself  is a t-shape, not unlike a tetris piece, with the shallow end sacrificing it’s width to the deep end. This makes laps slightly complicated (even though it is still six lanes) unless you’re going to move horizontally in the lush, deep end. This might be one of my favorite deep ends; a solid nine feet, complete with a shelf on the edge to stand on when you don’t feel like doggy padddling/butterflying endlessly.

The pool is located right next to Fullerton avenue, so there’s not much in terms of shade, so on a hot day, the water can stay warm for a very long time, and there is plenty of deck space to lay out, but goddamn if the reclining seats feature the most aggressively itchy cushions ever. After such a peaceful dip this is not what you want to return to. Hardly a complaint though given the luxury of the natural breathing space you get when you arrive.

In my quest to find “the perfect pool” Riis is certainly a strong contender, if you can handle going way out to the west side. Serenity doesn’t come easy, but when it’s as good as this, it’s worth the journey. RIIS PARK 6100 W. Fullerton Ave. Facility Hours: 11:00 AM-7:00 PM Facility Phone: [phone] Swim Schedule

[openswim]

Humboldt Park

Claire, 2pm--”Don’t write about this park. I don’t want this park getting blown up.” “okay, no one reads my blog.” (later, after Dead Moon--whom were spectacular. Checklist shit. Loved it.) “Yo, I’m writing about that pool. It don’t matter.” Claire, looking straight ahead from the end of the bar to the stage, before turning sharply to me “Does it have water?” “Yes” “Can I go there?” “Yes.” “Can I lay out?” “yes” “Then It’s fine.”

Humboldt park is a fine pool, but like Wu-Tang, it’s for the children. That slide? That slide was busted when we (my friend Michelle and I; Claire was supposed to meet us but things got complicated) arrived. I bet that slide is fun as hell when it’s open; That deep end-aside from being only five feet deep--is pretty small. The base of the pool is not the best either. It’s a pretty coarse ground but that feeling did remind me of being a kid in a pool for the first time. It’s an okay pool, but it’s not for me, a message that was punctuated by a mere 45 minute open swim window. That aside, it was a beautiful day to go check it, and the lifeguards were all super nice. That mural in the men’s changing room above is so fresh, and they were playing jams on the pool via a radio jacked into a loudspeaker. Nice touch--it reminds me of a couple years ago when I ran into a dude from a local record label also attending open swim and we just shot the breeze the whole time and lamented about how the city could easily get DJ’s for the pools, but in retrospect do you really need a dj  wherever you can turn your head? I mean, yeah it’d be dope to put some sunny summer cuts on while taking a dip, but maybe it’s better to just hear the air, the streets, other people having fun, the occasional lifeguard whistle.  For those just looking to start getting their feet wet with actual swimming or you just want to bug out on a super slide without the hassle of the Norwood Park “passes only” exclusion, this pool is cool. On a personal level, it bummed me cuz Humboldt Park is easily the best neighborhood in Chicago. It’s a well knit community, with a rich history, and that park is just breathtaking. I lived there for a while and just loved it so much (I live in Hermosa right now, but if I could convince my partner to move again, I’d move back there in a heartbeat. I MET CLAIRE IN HUMBOLDT. That’s not yelling, that’s just a landmark thing. She worked in a diner three blocks away from my apartment. I walked into the diner, and this figure, with the biggest smile, and the most intensely beautiful eyes, gave me coffee and I floated home. Neither of us remember where we decided that we’d be friends and hang out outside of the diner (It had to have been the Rainbo. Or like, someone’s party? We just got it right, right away and she’s just one of the best people I have in my life. We’ve been doing this pool thing together for a lonnnnng time, and maybe that’s why I’m bummed too because I wanted this pool to be THE pool. I wanted to not write about it because it’s the best neighborhood in the city, and of course our friendship should have this pool, mere blocks away from where we met. I love my friends, I love punk, I hate riot fest, and I love swimming. Humboldt Park deserves the most perfect pool in the world.

Humboldt Park 958 N. Sacramento Ave. Facility Hours: 11:00 AM-7:00 PM Facility Phone: [phone]

[openswim]

Portage Park

When I was 12 or 13, I fell off a porch. I was with my friend Ken and his mom visiting one of their family friends in Lake George, NY. I was essentially a stranger to the hosts. We arrived, and were introduced to the two family dogs Sugar and Spice. Ken and I ran up to the second story porch to take in the view. I don’t think it had even been a full hour but we were up on that porch, and I leaned on the ledge to look at the dogs running around when the half of the side I was looking out of came loose. I lost balance and fell two stories to the ground.

I landed on my back and what was ostensibly a rather soft piece of earth; the wind was knocked out of me and I was completely confused as to what happened. I had cuts and scraps on me and I cried like crazy, but thankfully that was it for my injuries. Way to make a first impression.

First impressions are key and as innocuous and it may seem, it even counts in parks and pools. First off, this park is huge, checking in at 36.5 Acres of land, but I think Riis Park might be bigger? There’s a very euro esque atmosphere that feels very calm and sophisticated. That all changed once I hit the pool grounds and encountered the tough as nails lifeguard and security staffs.

--No Bags on deck. --No Phones allowed on the poolside deck, or the “adults only” tanning section. --If you are seen taking pictures with your phone you will be kicked out. --Everything MUST be put away in a locker.

Walking in, I thought “geez, SORRY dudes” but then I noticed the capacity (500 people!) and had a moment to cool my jets, and gain a bit of sympathy. I mean, I’m familiar with the struggles of telling people “no” and being seen as “authority.” No one likes authority, not even those with the power and privilege to abuse it. I was riding on four hours of sleep; I worked at a bar the night before, got home early sunday morning through a haze of sulfuric acid and smoke that lingered throughout the city as July 4th went off into the next morning. The heat of the sun beating down on my face as I woke up on my couch, I had a strong desire to hit a pool. I turned to Facebook and asked if anyone wanted to go check out Portage. We are talking 85+ degrees, the smell of grills still wafting through the breeze and maybe the most lightweight smattering of fireworks. Within minutes of my post, I received a text from my friend Meg. Meg plays bass in the Blizzard Babies. I play in a band as well, and we (Fake Limbs) view Blizzard Babies as our sister band; we’ve played many shows together, we’re on the same label, we are neighbors in our practice building, and the Babies once asked me to play a punishing jerk-off in their music video. So with that, it was decided--Meg and our equally awesome friend Beth would meet me there.

Right, so...lock acquired, bags stashed in a locker (Not before we watched a park official yell at people for laying on the grass?) let’s see what the big deal is about this highly secure swimming pool. Pacing up and down the pool (which is huge, complete with roped off lanes for laps during open swim (unprecedented!) it becomes increasingly apparent that the  there is no deep end. This pool is just under five feet deep. “Yo, what gives?” “This is perfect for me!” exclaimed Meg, as she delicately bobbed up and down the water. Then, we realized why the pool was low on height.

That’s right, partitioned off was a separate pool running 18 feet deep, and a giant diving tower. “Is that even open? Can we go there?” “Yo, I’m not gonna tempt it, I got yelled at.” “Do you think they’ll let you jump off the top?“ “I think that’s just for the flag.” We kept bobbing and paddling around; we talked about fear (Meg is trying to conquer all her fears) this year (Air travel, check...maybe heights will come next) the perils of playing shows (Meg: “If it were up to me, I’d play only one song live, to at most two people. That’s the perfect gig for me.” Beth “Yeah, I really only like DJ’ing if people don’t know about it or don’t show up”) and Beth told a story about how she skipped class one day to follow the actor DJ Qualls. “I saw him at Borders, and couldn’t help myself. I mean, I kept my distance, but I was definitely behind him.” “He didn’t notice?” “I don’t think so?” “So what happened?” “Well, we went to Urban Outfitters.” “WE?”

“Yeah DJ, me and this guy who looked like either his assistant or a bodyguard.”

Suddenly, we noticed lifeguards posting up in the diving area, leading people to each board. “Oh man, it’s open?” I asked. “I’m not going to do it” Beth replied. “No?” “Well, I’m totally not doing it” Meg confirmed. Maybe the end of the swim season will see Meg confronting her fear of heights. “Okay, I’ll do it” “yeah, Beth?” “Yeah.” Let’s go... We were required to show that we could swim a lap because you need to clear the pool after each dive. Then we went up to the middle platform. At this point, most of the people in the larger, more shallow pool were gathering like an audience, watching people do jumps, and dives. Okay, maybe two people actually dived; most jumps were either elaborate flips from the diving board, or these simplistic, “I’m just going to let go of my body and fall” moves that really brought a sense of utopia to the moment. “Man, people really all fall the same don’t they?” You can’t tell from that picture but the middle platform is two stories up. It’s really intense once you’re up there, and if you have a fear of heights, it’s even more harrowing (good call, Meg.) We got to the top, and waited in line. Growing up in Upstate NY, I never jumped off of anything. Kids went to the quarry, and would jump into the river, or would jump off the oxbow, or the bridge in Plattsburgh where the river lead to Lake Champlain. I was always terrified of breaking my feet on rocks or landing on a car used in the prohibition era, ditched in the river to deter cops. It was Beth’s turn, Lifeguard motioning to her. She walked towards the edge of the base and said “this is what summer’s all about, right?” and jumped. Meg looked on from the shallow end of the pool, beaming with a smile that would befit a proud parent at their child’s talent show. My turn.... here’s what I remember. I remember looking at the ledge and being really freaked out. Then I remember, “It’s a pool, it’s just water, and there’s lifeguards. what could go wrong.” I remember I wanted to do a Nixon as I jumped, but I didn’t. But my biggest memory (and this is where the strongest notes of anxiety rang out) was in the air thinking “Oh, no I still haven’t landed yet. I’m still in the air?!” Then I hit, straight down but I opened my eyes, saw my legs over my head, and the bubbles floating up and got freaked out about the bends. Kicking wildly up sixteen or fifteen feet, I was chasing after the bubbles, after the sunlight. My head popped up and I coughed out for air. I felt like I had run a mile. I swam slowly to the edge, and pulled my body up, but not before realizing that said jump gave me a massive wedgie.

I calmly walked back over to the shallow pool and held my nose as I jumped in (no idea why I did this.) “Okay, it was all worth it for that.” 

While the security is tight and unusually aggressive, once inside, the pool itself is a a calm space with lots of room for people without feeling too crowded. Plus that diving board is a perfect space to confront your fears. Portage Park 4100 N. Long Ave. Chicago, Illinois 60641 Facility Hours: 11:00 AM-7:00 PM Facility Phone: [phone] Swim Schedule

[openswim]

California Park

“I’m Cold”–Anthony Kiedis (probably,) “Under the Bridge” (maybe) Throughout the months of May and June this year, there was nary a sign of summer. No matter how many ritualistic dance routines, crystal stone placements, or letter writing campaigns one could’ve have arranged, summer barely managed to show itself; occasionally, a warm day would appear and then gusts of wind and rain would swoop, carrying a cold front that would drop temptures between a 15 and 25 degrees. Leading up to June 12 (opening day for the pools,) I didn’t care about the weather. As long as I wasn’t in a block of ice and I could pedal my way out, I was fine with whatever came my way; in my head we (the universe and I) had a deal worked out–bring whatever crap weather you have, but after June 12, it’s Madame Sun and Mister Warmth until the leaves change color. No dice. Instead we’ve had more of the same–one or two hot days, and then heavy rain and a twenty degree drop with three to four days of recovery. Last Tuesday was no different. Somewhere around the low to mid sixties on the last day of June is unnerving, no matter how you slice it. But still, a call for the pool is a call and when my friend Kate texted to say “california park, 6pm” I got my act together and biked over.

The pool at California park is tucked away on the most North-end side of 13 acres, directly across from the domineering Horner Park, just north of Irving Park Road. Where California lacks in size, it makes up for in facilities; not only is there a swimming pool, but there is also a year-round ice rink for skating and hockey, multiple tennis courts and a wheelchair softball diamond (directly east of the pool.) Lots of activity, and not the easiest rush hour traffic to get through, as California and Irving stand as the second to last main intersection of California’s chief arterial role in navigating commutes through the north west side. Lots of activity for such a small size.

I’ve known Kate for several years now. She lived in Chicago, but moved to NY, and then moved back last year. We met at my old job, when the band she was playing bass for at the time booked a recording session. She was shy, but charming; really smart too, and I would soon discover really really funny. Plus she sings like a fucking bird. We drifted for a spell last summer–sometimes friends do that. When that happens, you’re faced with a choice: you can either hold the grudge (let it fester, let it grow, create dialogues that don’t exist, create irrational projections) or you can take the time to breathe, find your center, and use the distance to get some perspective. When we did reconvene to discuss our friendship, it was across the street at Horner Park, so there’s some meaning to both of these areas. I’m very happy we’re friends, as she’s been very helpful in my growth as a human. I think it’s a triumph that we were able to grow and learn from one another over the years, and I am eternally grateful to her for that. She also plays in the wonderful rock n roll band Gay Name. Previous summers, at my full time job, this was the most convenient pool for me. Slow days were spent here, where I fantasized about conducting all of my business pool side. Alas, I do not have a Randy “Macho Man” Savage lifestyle, as I merely have a Brooklyn Brawler budget. Oh well, the pool at California Park will have to satiate my need for opulence.

Do you see that? Do you see how the sun just gently waltzes around those trees? That’s every sunny afternoon in Chicago. Rows of trees cover the west end of the pool, providing a sort of secluded “clubhouse” vibe to actually finding the pool. This is a very large pool (fifty yards in length, six lap lanes in width) with a great deep end. Again, the presence of trees keeps some sunlight out so if you’re looking for a pool with crisp cold water, this is a choice spot.

General vibe for open swim is pretty mellow. Lots of young people, and families from the neighborhood, but it’s never too hairy; It’s a little more calm towards the last open swim of the day, as it thins out towards dinner time. It should be noted that California Park is one of the few parks implementing the “open swim pass” that the city is trying to introduce (but as of July 30, said passes were no where to be found.) In terms of northside pools, this is one of my favorites. There’s plenty of deck room to move around, dry out, and it’s natural environment provides the best kind of ambiance for a summertime wind down. I’m happy Kate got me out of the house, even though I was so chilly from the bike ride, and the cold water. Still, a very refreshing dip. CALIFORNIA PARK 3843 N. California Ave Chicago, IL 60618 Facility Hours: 11:00 AM-7:00 PM Facility Phone: [phone] Swim Schedule

[openswim]

Holstein Park

While only occupying three acres of land, Holstein Park--located along the border of the Logan Square and Bucktown neighborhoods--has been a major personal contention when it comes to swimming in the city. Turn it back to 2008--for a brief period of my life, I lived in Logan Square- 2005-2009. I had a single bedroom apartment that was big enough for the records, and with heat included and a month to month lease, I was spending six hundred dollars a month. My next door neighbor was this awesome woman--actually, before that...hoye, okay so I had this really sweet and endearing neighbor that lived above me. I wish I could remember her name (I’m awful with names) but she was soft and gentle and had a great smile. Then, her mom got sick and she had move back west to tend to her. Then, the neighbors next door got loud--a couple, they would only fight when drunk and that was frequent; upstairs neighbors replacements were punishing too. Bike dicks. Never said ‘hello.’ I tried to introduce myself--a right neighborly thing to do, something the previous tenant would have done--to one of them and was met with a stone face. Occasionally I’d hear what sounded like someone’s entire body falling to the floor above me.

This was while I was still working out the three year long process of my mothers very sudden death, the dissolution of a deep relationship, and (of some significance) a return to Saturn. Most of my days were spent working and then coming home and drinking, being afraid of commitment, thinking with parts other than my brain or heart, and hiding out in home with Netflix and The Best Show On WFMU. One day, the noise next door subsided. I saw one of my next door neighbors quietly walking out with a box “Hey” they sniffed. “Hey.” I never said more than three words to them before that, “Are you okay?” one night when I heard them crying and pounding the door, I didn’t know where to go with “hey.” I just let it go. I hope they’re okay. I hope the bike dicks are okay. I hope the nice neighbor from jump is living her life well. One day, the new next-door neighbor arrived. Her name was Kelli; she had short brown hair, the most coy smile (Such full cheeks!) big bright eyes, and could easily take anyone down with two moves. She was the business! We’d chat in the hallway every now and then. One day, she said “we should ride our bikes to the pool! Let’s go to Holstein.” The first time we went to Holstein, lightning intervened and we were sent packing after 10 minutes. We went to New Wave to eat lunch. While eating lunch, two friends walked through the cafe and said “Hi.” Kelli, very quietly, took two bites and scanned the room “Are you famous?” “No, no I’m not famous.” Months later, I was hanging out at home, and received a text from Kelli. Turns out her date for a bike prom was drunk and he was too big for her to carry, so I walked down the street from our apartment complex and helped her carry this guy into her place. At some point he came too and saw me carrying him. “h--h--Who are you?” “Hi I’m St--” “That’s my neighbor Stephen. HE’S FAMOUS!!” “I’m not very famous.”

My last encounter with Holstein was in 2009 with my friend Claire. Claire was--for a long time--the only person I‘d go to the pool with as she had a schedule as flexible as mine. The proximity of Holstein to my job was convenient enough for me to take my lunch breaks at the pool. One hot July day, I showed up (Claire was already there) and saw nothing but chaos. With it’s location between Logan and Bucktown, the pool was a hotbed for young adults and working class families. A hot day can attract everyone to the pool, so upon my arrival, the space to lay out your towel and prep for a dip was over saturated. Then came the cannonballs.  Helping Claire get into the pool (occasionally she needs an extra arm to get into the pool) we were checked, and rushed by kids eager to cannonball and dive into the deep end. “You think they all took the the deep end test?” I asked. “I doubt it.” Claire replied. Honestly it felt like everything was beyond the lifeguards control. Five minutes later, we’re in the pool still getting bombed by our young lil revolutionaries and their cannonballs. I swim over against the wall to get a moment to breathe, and realize I’m posted up next to a woman who is verbally abusing her child for too many cannonballs. “Dude, this is just all bad vibes.” Almost on cue, three whistles go off. “OUT! OUT! OUT! EVERYONE EVACUATE THE POOL RIGHT NOW.” A few minutes later, we find out that the pool was evacuated because someone vomited in the shallow end. This all happened within 15 minutes of hitting the deck. “Claire, why do we come here?” “Eh, this isn’t so bad...they had to shut the whole place down last week after a kid took a shit in the pool.” Never again. From that point on, I vowed to never go to that pool.

I met my friend Katie at a wedding last year; she was standing in the wedding of two wonderful people. She’s very funny...she’s easily one of the funniest people I know. She has an outstanding blog that I highly recommend y’all checking out. One of our mutual friends, after Katie showed them our text exchanges commented, “You two have a very contentious relationship.” I don’t entirely disagree; I love her brain, I love that we’re able to have a friendship that’s very safe and comforting, she’s very sharp, very stylish, but she is very much the Charles Grodin to my David Letterman. It might be my fault, I might be jealous of her life; not only does she seem to have a much better grasp on her life and her feelings than I did at her age, but she lives between a pool and Red Hot Ranch--easily the best Hot Dog joint in Chicago (YES I SAID IT.) As summer turned around, Katie asked if I would go to Holstein. “Never, and no amount of babe-age would get me back there.” (This was met with “what a fucker” by our mutual friend Kate Young.) But as I started working on this blog I figured “Okay I will prove that this pool sucks with it’s biggest proponent in tow.”

I think  what I like least about this pool, is the lack of layout on the deck. One side has massive side for you to lay out on, but that is where the entrance to the pool is from the lockers, so you create traffic, or your vibe will get tangled up with the legs and feet of the other ham n eggers that frequent this pool. On the other side is deck seven feet in width. Not much space, so you’re pretty much reserved with laying towels out single file. Wiggle room is essential when trying to find your ultimate swim chill. We showed up with about an hour of open swim time left; It was a muggy day, but surprisingly not busy, so we managed to find some space to lay out. “Okay, so far so good.” I decided to ease my body in, to honor the social contract of not providing splash back to the those drying out. Easing my body into the water of Holstein, all my negativity subsided. The water was so warm and welcoming, the chlorine level was just right, and everyone was just pleasant to be around in terms of sharing space within the pool. At fifty yards in length, with a bather capacity of 300, this is a massive pool (six lanes for those that like to do lap swim) but what I forgot about was it’s relationship with trees. You take a park like California, and the trees are surrounding the entire pool, but with Holstein, the trees are just far enough that the pool fully absorbs all the sun that is presented to it. This creates an incredibly warm, womblike pool. Those looking for the coldest water to dip in, may want to go somewhere else and leave this space for those looking for a different kind of chill.

I hate being wrong...and in that moment, after being challenged by Katie to swim to the bottom (Nine feet and change) and bobbing up and down in the warmth and the sun, I said “my god this is so right on time.” Katie, calmly looked back at me mid stroke and said “do you realize that I’m always right?”

ALRIGHT, HREER. Holstein Park 2200 N. Oakley swim schedule

[openswim]

Norwood Park Outdoor Pool

(Photo taken outside of the pool area as phones aren’t allowed on deck.)

Wayyyyyy Northwest. Took 44 min by car from Hermosa (crap traffic) by the time I got here it was raining and that wasn't going to stop me.

A decent pool--medium in length, a strong deep end (9'8") with a cap of 300. Every day there’s a long open swim portion (2pm to 4:30pm) and it has a goofy fun slide for all to use. It’s located on the tail end of 14 acres of beautiful nature. The novelty of the fun slide brings up two points--first is, this pool will probably be the most strict about the open swim pass. They already have a "no bags on deck" rule (changing rooms have actual lockers so dig out yr locks) and it's proximity to the burbs -the whole reason for this passes-is certainly going to fit with their tough stance. So friends that want to get down with this spot, please get yr passes. They're free!

(Pretty cool that they allow smoking in this locker room. Watch yourself in the locker room, the floors are so non-porous, that I almost fell twice.)

Second point is--yeah it's no waterpark jawn, but the slide is fun. I was giddy the whole way down (You're dumped in a three foot deep "splash area"btw) so figure a hot sunny "perfect" day that pool will be at capacity. According to one of the lifeguards, capacity is a common occurrence.

(not pictured: superfries w/ cheese and a vanilla milkshake)

A bonus item though--it's 1.2 miles from Superdawg. So load a whip with some friends, bring some locks and dog it out after some happy fun slide action. I recommend planning ahead (passes, locks) and bring a crew of friends! Norwood Park Swim Schedule.