When I was growing up in Tucson, Arizona, there were plenty of places where my family could swim. We often used a local park’s wading pool. Next to it was a standard-size pool, where I was able to swim after I turned nine. Friends and neighbors had pools we also used from time to time. In the summer, I often attended a day camp at the YWCA, where swimming was one of the activities. We sometimes drove into the mountains, where we swam in a stream, but that wasn’t nearly as fun because I didn’t like the feel of rocks and sand beneath my feet, and the water was often too cold.
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