Continuity, BlackBerry Shots, pool near Clarks Hill Lake, Georgia, October 2009, all photos © 2009 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.
streaks of Southern light
splash across concrete pool deck
sink to the bottom
wading through memoir
old gravestones crack and crumble
worn secrets revealed
John Cheever lives on
fine art of the short story
distant memories
pool to pool to pool
we have all been The Swimmer
fighting for our lives
When I travel to Georgia with Mom, we stay at my Uncle Bill’s place on Clarks Hill Lake. Mom likes the wicker room on the first floor with a view of the lake and grounds. This year I stayed in the only upstairs bedroom in the wing of the house dedicated to recreation, exercise, and watching movies. In the past, I thought it a little strange to be the only person sleeping on the whole second floor. But this year, I grew to love the room. It’s quiet. No widescreen TV on the wall, no noise. And it looks out over a sea of Georgia pines on the shore of Clarks Hill Lake.
The dividing line between Georgia and South Carolina runs right through Clarks Hill Lake. I stay on the Georgia side with my uncle; my paternal aunts, Annette and Brenda, live not far from my uncle on the South Carolina side. I reconnected with my blood father’s sisters a few years ago after nearly 50 years. They had not seen me or my mother since I was 2 years old. Small world.
One morning I awoke and saw these streaks of light pulsing through the pool below me. It struck me how they hit the concrete first, then jumped into the water and immediately sank to the bottom. One thing I like about outdoor pools is the way the sunlight plays through the water during the day. Another thing about swimming — you get really good at holding your breath.
My grandfather had a pool when I was growing up. It wasn’t far from the bomb shelter he built outside his new home; it was the 1950’s. Among the things I remember clearly are the few sultry evenings when we swam at night. I also associate pools with John Cheever’s short story, The Swimmer. Ever since Natalie Goldberg had us read it for one of her Taos workshops, I’ve never forgotten it. Neither has writer Michael Chabon. In Salon, he calls The Swimmer “a masterpiece of mystery, language and sorrow.”
Who is your favorite short story writer? Have you ever written or published a short story? What do you associate with swimming pools? Exercise, relaxation, water polo, relief from the heat, family fun? Do a Writing Practice on Swimming Pools….10 Minutes, Go!
Lifeline, Lightbending (3), BlackBerry Shots
of pool near Clarks Hill Lake, Georgia, October
2009, all photos © 2009 by QuoinMonkey. All
rights reserved.
-posted on red Ravine, Saturday, November 14th, 2009, with gratitude to Natalie for all the writers she has introduced us to and made us read in spite of our resistance!
-related to posts: haiku 2 (one-a-day), PRACTICE — Holding My Breath – 10min, The Vitality Of Place — Preserving The Legacy Of “Home”
Quite recently I was reading a popular novel (the name escapes me right now) that referred to a famous short story where a swimmer secretly swam in other people’s pools. I felt quite literary knowing exactly which piece he was referring to. I’d like to pull my John Cheever book out again.
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Teri, it seems that Cheever’s story The Swimmer has had an impact on many writers. It makes me want to read some of his short stories again, too. Flannery O’Connor is also a master of the short story. I wonder what it is that makes some writers better at one genre than another? And most have to at least try writing a novel, even though they might be better at the short story. Many fiction writers also dabble in non-fiction at least once in their careers. I like to notice things like that.
Hey, safe travels on your journey home from Taos. New Mexico in the morning, Minnesota at night. And a writer friend between. Good day in Minnesota to fly. Clear and cool.
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First, what a cool shot! And even cooler that you connected it to Cheever’s short story. Especially the title of the first photo–Continuity.
Friday night I started reading Lori Ostlund’s book of short stories. I’m only half way through the first one. I tend to like to read short stories in one sitting, but it’s not always possible. So far, so good. I’m liking what I’m reading. She has a distinct voice.
I love short stories. They are satisfying. I like Alice Munro, Pam Houston, Susan Orlean, Antonya Nelson. I read a good number of short stories in the New Yorker. This past issue had a story by Stephen King, and he was the editor of last year’s or year before’s Best American Short Stories.
A good short story always amazes me for what it manages to get across in a relatively short amount of space. I think I will go now and finish reading the one I started. 8)
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