I remember leaving swim practice as a kid at 5 p.m., emerging from our little town’s brightly lit but spartan natatorium — essentially a concrete box housing a rectangular body of water — into a cold Wisconsin winter night. My wet hair would freeze solid on the short walk to the car. However uninspiring that facility was, that pool was the center of my community at the time. I made my first real friends as part of the swim team, experienced my first victories and losses, and learned the satisfaction of working hard toward a goal.
Editor's Letter: Centers of Community
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