Garden City Swimming Pool

10/26/2026

GLOW IN THE DARK MINI GOLF!!! Just Added - Glow night scavenger hunt at mini golf. A lot of fun and Prizes!

10/06/2026

🐊💚 To Our High School Seniors, With Love From Goggles 💚🐊

Hey, GCP family. Goggles here.

Every summer eventually comes to an end.

The chairs get stacked away. The umbrellas come down. The gates close. The pool gets quiet again.

Usually, we know another summer will be here before we know it.

But lately, as pictures from Senior Days have started appearing, this old gator has been thinking about something a little harder.

For some of our kids, things are changing.

And yes…

I still call you our kids.

Because before you were the seniors standing proudly beside your families…

Before you wore varsity jerseys…

Before you drove yourselves to work…

Before you became lifeguards, attendants, supervisors, and the people we trusted to help take care of everyone else…

you were the little kids at the pool.

And somehow, it doesn’t feel that long ago.

You were the kids running through the gates on summer mornings because you couldn’t wait another second to get inside.

You spent entire afternoons in the water until your fingers wrinkled.

You raced your friends to the slides.

You begged your parents for five more minutes when they told you it was time to go home.

You bought snacks, found your friends, jumped back into the water, and repeated it all the next day.

You didn’t know those days were special.

Why would you?

You thought there would always be another one.

Another summer.

Another afternoon at the pool.

Another year of being a kid.

You weren’t trying to make memories.

You were just growing up.

And we got to watch it happen.

Summer after summer, you came back.

You got taller.

You got older.

You became more independent.

Eventually, your parents didn’t have to bring you anymore.

Then, one summer, some of you walked through those same gates wearing a GCP staff shirt.

And suddenly, the kids we remembered running around the pool were the people sitting in the lifeguard chairs.

You were behind the counters.

You were helping families.

You were working events.

You were staying late to clean up.

You were watching over the same little kids that you used to be.

And maybe we didn’t realize how beautiful that was while it was happening.

Because somewhere along the way, our pool kids became our staff.

Then our staff became our leaders.

Our coworkers.

Our friends.

Our family.

And this summer, we laughed with you, worked beside you, complained about the heat with you, survived the crazy days with you, and watched another GCP summer come and go.

But there was something different about this one.

For many of you, it was your last summer here as a high school student.

That sentence hurts a little more now.

Because back in June, there was so much ahead of us.

An entire summer.

Long sunny days.

Late nights.

Events.

Inside jokes.

Friendships.

Memories we hadn’t made yet.

And then, like summer always does, it disappeared.

September came.

School started.

Homecoming came and went.

Fall sports began.

And now we’re seeing your Senior Day pictures.

We’re seeing you standing beside your parents.

We’re seeing you hugging your teammates.

We’re seeing you wearing jerseys with SENIOR written across them.

We’re seeing the posters, flowers, balloons and pictures from when you were little.

And suddenly, we’re looking at you and thinking:

When did our kids grow up?

Because we remember those little kids.

We remember younger versions of you.

And now you’re experiencing all these moments for the last time.

That’s the strange thing about senior year.

Everybody talks about how exciting it is.

And it is.

But nobody really prepares you for how many goodbyes are quietly hidden inside it.

Your last Homecoming has already happened.

Your last season is happening.

Your Senior Day arrives.

One day you’ll play your last game.

You’ll have your last holiday break as a high school student.

Your last spring.

Your last ordinary Monday morning complaining that you don’t want to get up for school.

Your last lunch with the same people you’ve eaten beside for years.

Your last bell.

Your last walk through those hallways.

And eventually…

your last day.

There probably won’t be anything extraordinary about some of those moments.

That’s what makes them so easy to miss.

Nobody announces when you’re experiencing something you’ll someday desperately wish you could experience one more time.

Life just keeps moving.

So please, seniors…

slow down.

Not forever.

Just every once in a while.

Look around.

Take the picture.

Let your parents take another one even when you’ve already taken twenty.

Hug your teammates.

Thank your coaches.

Sit beside your friends a little longer.

After the game, don’t be in such a hurry to leave.

Look around that field, court, track or gym and memorize it.

Because years from now, you won’t remember every score.

You won’t remember every practice.

You won’t remember every shift you worked at GCP.

But you’ll remember how those places made you feel.

You’ll remember the people.

You’ll remember laughing so hard with your coworkers that you couldn’t breathe.

You’ll remember those brutally hot afternoons when everyone was counting the minutes until their shift ended.

You’ll remember the rainy days.

The crowded weekends.

The quiet evenings.

The ridiculous conversations.

The staff jokes nobody outside of GCP would ever understand.

You’ll remember standing around after closing when everyone was exhausted, but somehow nobody was quite ready to leave.

And someday, strangely enough, you’ll even miss the days you couldn’t wait to be over.

That’s the part about growing up nobody tells you.

When you’re young, you’re always waiting for what’s next.

You can’t wait to be old enough to work.

You can’t wait to drive.

You can’t wait to be a senior.

You can’t wait to graduate.

You can’t wait for college.

You can’t wait for your life to begin.

Then one day you look backward and realize…

it already had.

It was happening the whole time.

It was happening during those ordinary summer afternoons.

During those long shifts.

During those practices.

During those rides home with your friends.

During those nights when you were exhausted and sunburned and laughing about something completely ridiculous.

Those weren’t the moments before your life started.

Those were your life.

And we were incredibly lucky to share some of them with you.

That’s why seeing you become seniors feels different for us.

You weren’t just names on a work schedule.

You weren’t just employees.

We watched you grow up.

Some of you came here as little kids.

Then suddenly you were teenagers asking about summer jobs.

Then you were nervous new employees learning what to do.

Then somehow you became the experienced staff members helping the younger ones.

And this past summer, there were little kids looking up at you the same way you once looked up at the older staff.

Think about that for a second.

Some little kid who spent this summer at GCP might remember you years from now.

Maybe you were the lifeguard who made them feel safe.

Maybe you were the staff member who remembered their name.

Maybe you made them laugh.

Maybe you helped them when they were scared.

Maybe they simply thought you were cool because you were one of the “big kids.”

And someday, that child might walk through our gates wearing a staff shirt too.

Just like you did.

That’s how places like this become more than pools.

People leave pieces of themselves behind.

And you have left yours here.

Your laughter is here.

Your friendships are here.

Your ridiculous stories are here.

Your summers are here.

A piece of your childhood is here.

And no matter where life takes you, that part belongs to you forever.

Someday, many years from now, you may drive past GCP.

You might not have thought about the pool in months or even years.

But maybe you’ll hear kids laughing from the other side of the fence.

Maybe you’ll catch that familiar smell of chlorine.

Maybe you’ll see the water through the trees.

And for just a second, you’ll remember.

You’ll remember being little.

You’ll remember your friends.

You’ll remember your first summer working here.

You’ll remember someone you haven’t thought about in years.

You’ll remember those evenings when the sun was going down over the pool and everything felt so incredibly simple.

And for one tiny moment…

you’ll be seventeen again.

Maybe someday you’ll even come back through those gates holding the hand of your own little swimmer.

And if that happens, I hope you’ll stop for a second.

Look around.

And tell them:

“I grew up here.”

Tell them about your summers.

Tell them about your friends.

Tell them about the people you worked beside.

Tell them about the crazy days and the beautiful ones.

Tell them about the summers that seemed endless until suddenly they weren’t.

And tell them that once upon a time, there was an old gator named Goggles who watched all of you grow up right in front of him. 🐊💚

Because that’s what makes this year so emotional.

We’re unbelievably excited for you.

We can’t wait to see the colleges you choose, the careers you begin, the places you travel, the people you meet and the lives you build.

But there’s another feeling mixed in with all that pride.

Because when you love watching kids grow up…

eventually you have to watch them leave.

And we’re not quite ready for that part yet.

Thankfully, we don’t have to be.

Not yet.

You still have months of senior year ahead of you.

There are games left to play.

Pictures left to take.

Friends left to laugh with.

Memories left to make.

There is still a graduation waiting for you.

And hopefully, before many of you head off toward whatever comes next, there’s still one more GCP summer waiting for us together.

So don’t rush this.

The world will ask you to grow up soon enough.

Right now, just be seniors.

Be teammates.

Be best friends.

Be somebody’s kid.

Laugh too loudly.

Take too many pictures.

Stay an extra few minutes.

Hug your parents, even when they’re embarrassing you.

Tell your friends you love them.

Make the memory.

And every once in a while, when everything gets quiet, look around and remind yourself:

These are the days I’m going to miss.

Because someday, the Class of 2027 will be scattered all over the place.

Different colleges.

Different careers.

Different cities.

Different lives.

But no matter how much time passes, there will always be something connecting you.

There was a summer when you were young.

There was a pool.

There were people who became family.

And there was a place where you grew up.

💚

So to all of our incredible GCP seniors celebrating their Senior Days:

We see you.

We are cheering for you.

We are so incredibly proud of you.

And yes, we’re probably getting a little emotional watching all of this happen.

Because before you were seniors…

Before you were athletes…

Before you were lifeguards and staff members…

you were our pool kids.

Then you grew up.

You became our coworkers.

You became our friends.

You became our family.

And wherever life takes you after this year, that part never changes.

There will always be a chair for you here.

There will always be a memory waiting for you here.

There will always be people cheering for you here.

And there will always be one old gator who remembers when you were just a kid spending your summer at the pool.

🐊💚

Once GCP family, always GCP family.

Congratulations on your Senior Days, Class of 2027.

Enjoy every second.

We’re so proud of the people you’ve become.

And wherever you go next…

never forget where some of your best summers began.

With more love and pride than this old gator could ever put into words,

Goggles the Gator 🐊💚
Forever cheering for his pool kids — even when they’re all grown up.

10/03/2026

10/03/2026

New Program from Garden City Recreation!

09/27/2026

🐊💚 FROM GOGGLES, WITH A WHOLE LOT OF GRATITUDE 💚🐊

Goggles wants to take a moment to say a very personal and heartfelt THANK YOU to the incredible men and women who work for the Village of Garden City.

They say “it takes a village,” and over the last few days, we were reminded exactly what that means.

When the storm hit, you were there for us.

You helped clear the roads when trees and branches came down. You cleaned up debris and helped make our parks and public spaces safe again. You responded to emergencies, checked our facilities, answered calls, and worked long hours in some pretty miserable conditions so the rest of us could safely get back to our normal lives.

And so much of that work happened quietly, without anyone asking for recognition or a thank-you.

To our friends in Recreation and DPW, and to every other Village employee who stepped up to help: we saw you, and we appreciate you more than you know. ❤️

You gave up time with your own families to help ours. You went out into the storm while many of us were able to stay safely inside. And when the storm finally passed, you were still there — picking up the pieces, clearing the mess, and helping our community get back on its feet.

For those of us at the Garden City Pool, these are also people we know, work alongside, laugh with, and rely on throughout the year. Seeing everyone come together when our Village needed help made us even more grateful to call you our friends and coworkers.

So from Goggles and the entire GCP family, thank you.

Thank you for showing up.
Thank you for keeping us safe.
Thank you for helping us clean up and recover.
And most importantly, thank you for always taking care of our community. 🐊💚

They say it takes a village.

We’re just incredibly thankful for the people who make up ours. 💚

09/11/2026

🇺🇸 September 11, 2001 — September 11, 2026 🇺🇸

Twenty-five years ago today, the world changed.

This morning, the Garden City Pool family pauses together.

No announcements.

No reminders.

No programs.

Just remembrance.

Twenty-five years ago, people woke up on a beautiful Tuesday morning and began an ordinary day.

Parents kissed their children goodbye.

Children headed to school.

People grabbed coffee, caught trains, boarded airplanes, walked into offices, reported to firehouses and police precincts, and started another day of work.

Some rushed out the door.

Some forgot to say goodbye.

Some said “I love you.”

Some said “See you tonight.”

They had dinner plans.

Birthdays ahead.

Vacations planned.

Children to raise.

Lives still waiting to be lived.

And then, in the span of a few hours, everything changed.

2,977 people would never come home.

Today, 25 years later, it is easy to see that number and forget what it represents.

So today, we don't want to remember a number.

We want to remember the people.

The mother whose child waited for her to come home.

The father whose place at the dinner table suddenly became empty.

The son.

The daughter.

The husband.

The wife.

The brother.

The sister.

The best friend.

The neighbor.

The coworker whose desk would remain empty.

Every one of those 2,977 people had a name.

Every one had a story.

Every one loved someone.

And every one was loved by someone.

Here on Long Island, September 11th has never felt far away.

Our communities knew those names.

They were our neighbors.

Our friends.

Our relatives.

Our firefighters.

Our police officers.

Our coworkers.

They rode the same trains. They walked the same streets. Their children attended our schools. Their families shopped in our stores, sat beside us at community events, and lived ordinary lives in towns just like ours.

For so many Long Island families, September 11th isn't something that happened somewhere else.

It happened to someone they loved.

Today, we remember the firefighters who entered the towers while thousands of people were trying desperately to escape them.

They climbed.

Floor after floor.

Carrying equipment on their backs.

Knowing what was happening above them.

And still they climbed.

We remember the police officers, Port Authority officers, paramedics, EMTs, and other first responders who ran toward something everyone else was running away from.

We remember the ordinary people who became extraordinary simply because another human being needed help.

We remember those aboard American Airlines Flight 11.

United Airlines Flight 175.

American Airlines Flight 77.

United Airlines Flight 93.

We remember those at the Pentagon.

We remember those inside the North and South Towers.

We remember those on the streets below.

We remember the survivors.

And we remember the rescue and recovery workers who spent the days, weeks, and months afterward searching through Ground Zero—many of whom would pay an enormous price for their service years later.

But today, our hearts are especially with the families.

Because for the rest of the country, September 11th eventually became history.

For them, it remained an empty chair.

Twenty-five Christmas mornings.

Twenty-five Thanksgivings.

Twenty-five birthdays.

Twenty-five summers.

Graduations where someone should have been sitting in the audience.

Weddings where someone should have been dancing.

Grandchildren who would only know someone through photographs and stories.

Twenty-five years of moments both enormous and incredibly small when someone was supposed to be there.

There are children who lost parents that morning who are now older than their parents were when they died.

There are babies from 2001 who are now adults.

There are young people walking through our community today who weren't alive when the towers stood.

And that is why our responsibility to remember becomes more important—not less—with every passing year.

We have to tell them.

Tell them what happened.

Tell them who we lost.

Tell them about the firefighters climbing those stairs.

Tell them about strangers helping strangers.

Tell them about people opening their homes.

Tell them about communities gathering together.

Tell them that when America experienced unimaginable darkness, ordinary people responded with extraordinary courage.

Tell them that September 11th isn't simply a chapter in a history textbook.

It is 2,977 stories that ended too soon.

At the Garden City Pool, we spend our summers surrounded by families.

We watch children learn to swim.

We watch parents cheer them on.

We watch grandparents sit poolside with grandchildren.

We watch teenagers become lifeguards and accept the responsibility of watching over their neighbors.

We watch generations of families walk through our gates year after year.

And perhaps that makes today's message especially simple.

Treasure the ordinary days.

Treasure sitting beside the pool watching your children play.

Treasure dinner around the table.

Treasure the ride to school.

Treasure hearing someone you love walk through the front door.

Treasure the conversations that seem unimportant.

Treasure the hugs.

Treasure being able to say, “See you tomorrow.”

Because 25 years ago, thousands of families learned in the most painful way imaginable just how precious an ordinary day can be.

So today, hug your children a little tighter.

Call your parents.

Check on your neighbor.

Thank a firefighter.

Thank a police officer.

Thank a paramedic.

Be patient with someone.

Help someone who needs it.

Tell the people you love that you love them.

And remember.

Remember the lives—not simply the way they died, but the way they lived.

Remember the families who still carry them in their hearts.

Remember those who ran toward danger.

Remember those who reached out a hand to a stranger.

Remember the way communities came together when everything seemed to be falling apart.

Twenty-five years.

A quarter of a century.

The skyline changed.

Children grew up.

Families grew older.

The world moved forward.

But today, we stop.

Because some promises aren't supposed to have an expiration date.

To the 2,977 people who left home on September 11, 2001 and never returned:

We remember you.

To the families who have spent 25 years carrying their love and their loss:

We remember with you.

To the first responders and ordinary people who showed us what courage looks like:

We honor you.

And to the generations who weren't there:

We will tell you their stories.

Twenty-five years ago today, America promised that we would never forget.

Today, the Garden City Pool family renews that promise.

We remember their names.

We remember their lives.

We remember their families.

We remember their courage.

And no matter how many years pass—

We will never forget.

🇺🇸 September 11, 2001 — September 11, 2026 🇺🇸

25 Years. Forever Remembered.

❤️🤍💙

— The Garden City Pool Family

09/10/2026

🇺🇸 The Night Before — September 10, 2001 🇺🇸

Twenty-five years ago tonight, America went to sleep.

It was an ordinary Monday night.

Parents tucked their children into bed.

Families ate dinner together.

Kids finished their homework and packed their backpacks for school.

People laid out clothes for work the next morning.

Firefighters finished shifts while others prepared for the next one.

Police officers kissed their families goodbye before heading to work.

Flight crews packed their bags.

Business travelers checked their itineraries.

People set their alarm clocks.

Some said, “Goodnight, I love you.”

Others simply said, “See you tomorrow.”

And nobody knew.

Nobody knew that when the sun rose the next morning, September 11, 2001, the world would change forever.

Nobody knew that some of those ordinary goodnights would become final goodbyes.

Nobody knew that some beds would be empty the following night.

That some chairs at dinner tables would never be filled again.

That children would wait for parents who weren't coming home.

That husbands and wives would stare at phones hoping they would ring.

That parents would desperately search for news of their children.

Nobody knew that firefighters would walk into their firehouses the next morning and answer a call from which some would never return.

Nobody knew that police officers, paramedics, office workers, flight attendants, pilots, passengers, and countless ordinary people were about to become part of history.

They simply went to sleep.

They had plans for Tuesday.

Meetings to attend.

School drop-offs to make.

Phone calls to return.

Birthdays coming up.

Vacations being planned.

Anniversaries ahead.

Arguments they assumed there would be time to resolve.

Hugs they assumed there would always be another chance to give.

They expected tomorrow.

Just like all of us do.

And perhaps that is one of the hardest things to think about on September 10th.

September 11th reminds us of unimaginable tragedy.

But September 10th reminds us just how ordinary life was before anyone knew.

Tonight, as we approach the 25th anniversary of September 11th, the Garden City Pool asks our community to remember that ordinary Monday evening.

Remember the families.

Remember the conversations.

Remember the laughter around dinner tables.

Remember the children being tucked into bed.

Remember the people setting their alarms, expecting another normal morning.

And perhaps tonight, hold your own ordinary moments a little closer.

Stay at the dinner table a few minutes longer.

Make the phone call.

Put down the phone and listen to the person sitting beside you.

Tell your children you love them.

Hug your parents.

Kiss your husband or wife goodnight.

Tell the people who matter to you what they mean to you.

Don't assume there will always be another opportunity.

Because twenty-five years ago tonight, thousands of people went to bed believing tomorrow was promised.

They had no reason to believe otherwise.

Tomorrow morning, we will remember the 2,977 lives lost on September 11, 2001.

We will remember the firefighters who climbed the stairs.

We will remember the police officers and paramedics who ran toward danger.

We will remember the passengers and crews aboard the four flights.

We will remember the Pentagon.

We will remember the World Trade Center.

We will remember Flight 93.

We will remember the survivors, the rescue and recovery workers, and the families who have carried an empty space in their hearts for a quarter of a century.

But tonight, we remember them as they were **before they became names we promised never to forget.**

They were parents.

Children.

Brothers.

Sisters.

Husbands.

Wives.

Friends.

Neighbors.

Coworkers.

They were people living ordinary lives on an ordinary Monday night.

They were loved.

They had plans.

They expected to come home.

Twenty-five years ago tonight, they went to sleep not knowing what tomorrow would bring.

So tonight, from the Garden City Pool family, hold the people you love just a little tighter.

And when you say goodnight, mean it.

❤️🤍💙

September 10, 2001 — The night before everything changed.

🇺🇸 We remember. We honor. We will never forget. 🇺🇸

— The Garden City Pool

09/07/2026

🐊💙 ONE LAST TIME, GARDEN CITY POOL FAMILY… 💙🐊

As Goggles prepares to open the gates **for the final time this season**, we want to recognize the people who made this summer possible.

A pool can have beautiful grounds, clear water, and sunny days, but none of that gives a place its personality.

People do.

And this summer, thousands of people brought the Garden City Pool to life.

💙 To our Garden City Pool Family…

From opening day until today, you filled this place with energy.

You brought your children for their first swims. You met friends for afternoons by the water. You claimed your favorite chairs, shared meals around the tables, read underneath the umbrellas, and watched your kids find friends they couldn't wait to see again the next day.

You turned ordinary summer afternoons into something we'll miss when the gates are closed.

Some of our youngest swimmers may not remember every detail of these days when they're older.

Their parents will.

They'll remember the little hand they held walking through the gates. They'll remember applying sunscreen to a kid who couldn't sit still because the water was waiting. They'll remember watching them finally jump off the side , swim across the pool, or make a new friend.

And someday, some of those children may return through these same gates with children of their own.

That's what the Garden City Pool is all about.

🏊‍♂️ **To our incredible lifeguards and staff…**

You are the backbone of this facility.

Through hot days, crowded weekends, long shifts, and everything in between, you kept thousands of swimmers safe and this facility moving. You set up events , took out garbages, cleaned up thousands of spills /messes and made sure tens of thousands of people got to enjoy their summer. You ensured that kids got to jump into the water , got to learn how to swim and take their first steps on a journey of loving the pool.

You answered questions, cleaned, helped members, opened in the morning, closed at night, and handled plenty of things most people never noticed.

Some of you have worked here for years. For others, this was your first season.

Some will return next summer. Others will head off to college, careers, and new adventures.

For those working their final shift today, we hope you leave knowing that your time here meant something.

A child remembers the lifeguard who encouraged them.

A parent remembers the staff member who helped when they needed it.

Coworkers who started the season as strangers are leaving as friends.

Those are the things that last.

🌳 **To the entire Garden City Recreation Department…**

There is an enormous amount of work required to operate the Garden City Pool that happens far away from the lifeguard stands and swimming pools.

Schedules need to be made. Programs need to be planned. Deliveries need to arrive. Problems need to be solved. Decisions need to be made.

We especially want to recognize Andy, Camryn, Matt, and Steve for everything they did behind the scenes this season.

You dealt with the unexpected, solved problems before most people knew they existed, and handled countless details that allowed thousands of members to simply walk through the gates and enjoy their day.

Much of that work happens without anyone watching.

**But it matters, and we noticed.**

🔧🌸 **To the Garden City Recreation Maintenance Department…**

A special shoutout to **Chris and his incredible crew** for the countless hours spent keeping this facility in tip-top shape.

At a facility this busy, something always needs attention. Most members never knew about many of those issues because your crew was already taking care of them.

And to **Tom and his crew**, your beautiful flowers became part of the backdrop of another Garden City summer.

They greeted members walking in, surrounded families enjoying their afternoons, and added something beautiful to the place we spent so much of our time.

🌸 Your work was everywhere, even when your crews weren't.

💻 **To our office crew…**

Thousands of members means thousands of questions.

Guest passes. Memberships. Phone calls. Lost cards. Found belongings. Program questions. Schedule questions. Rule questions.

And yes…sometimes questions about questions.

You were often the first faces people saw when they arrived, and you handled far more behind that desk than most members will ever realize.

You kept the front door of our Pool Family moving all season long.

📚 **To Evelyn and the Garden City Public Library…**

You gave us the perfect activity for those moments when we needed a break from the water.

There was something wonderfully simple about grabbing a book from our donated library, finding some shade, and reading while the sounds of the pool carried on in the background.

Children, parents, grandparents, and even our staff picked up those books throughout the season.

Reading quietly became one of our favorite poolside traditions. 📚

🍔🍟 **To D&J Refreshments…**

You did much more than keep everyone fed.

You were part of the kids asking for a snack after swimming, friends grabbing lunch together, and families deciding to stay for dinner because nobody was quite ready to leave.

For many of us, walking over to D&J is simply part of what a day at the Garden City Pool feels like.

❤️ **To our wonderful sponsors…**

We are incredibly grateful to **Hofstra University, Pickleball Prime, The Laura Carroll Team, and Laura Giacini at Howard Hanna** for supporting us this season.

Your generosity helped make our programs, activities, events, and other experiences possible throughout the summer.

Your support reaches far beyond a swimming facility. It contributes to a place where kids spend their summers growing up, neighbors get to know each other, and families have somewhere they can come together.

**We are fortunate to have you as part of it.**

🐊💙 **And now, Garden City Pool Family…here we are.**

It feels like we were just opening the gates in June.

The chairs were coming out.

The flowers were blooming.

The lifeguards were climbing into their stands.

School was ending.

And an entire summer seemed to be waiting for us.

Then somehow, almost without noticing…

June became July.

July became August.

And August brought us here.

**The final day.**

Today, the gates will open just like they have so many times before.

Kids will run toward the water.

Whistles will blow.

Friends will find each other.

Someone will forget their goggles.

Someone will ask when we close.

Someone will tell their kids it's time to leave and immediately hear:

**"Five more minutes!"**

And for most of the day, it'll feel like any other summer day at the Garden City Pool.

Until it doesn't.

Eventually, the sun will begin to drop.

The crowd will thin.

Towels will get folded into bags.

Parents will call their kids out of the water.

The lifeguards will begin looking at the clock.

And then we'll hear something we've heard countless times this summer.

**A whistle.**

Except this one will be different.

It will be the last whistle of the season.

The final swimmers will climb out.

Our lifeguards will come down from their stands.

Families will gather their things.

The pools will become still.

And one by one, people will walk toward the exit.

Some staff members will say, **"See you next summer."**

For others, it'll be their last walk out as a Garden City Pool employee.

Eventually, the last person will leave.

And the gates will close.

That's summer.

For months, it feels like there's always another day.

Another swim.

Another evening at the pool.

Another chance to come back tomorrow.

Until suddenly, there isn't.

So don't spend today thinking about the gates closing tonight.

**Spend it enjoying the fact that they're open right now.**

Swim.

Laugh.

Read your book.

Order your favorite food.

Sit with your friends.

Let the kids stay in a little longer.

Take the picture you kept meaning to take.

And at some point, look around.

Listen to the splashing and the conversations around you.

Notice the lifeguards in their chairs.

Look at the flowers.

Look at the families sitting together.

Because someday, when we think about summers at the Garden City Pool, these are the scenes we'll picture.

Not a building.

Not a swimming pool.

**This.**

Kids growing up here.

Friends meeting at the same chairs.

Families eating dinner in bathing suits.

Books underneath umbrellas.

Lifeguards who started as teenagers and came back year after year.

Parents realizing their little swimmer suddenly isn't so little anymore.

And summer evenings when nobody was in much of a hurry to go home.

That's why this place means so much to us.

It's woven into growing up in Garden City.

For some, this was their first season here.

For others, the Garden City Pool has been part of their lives for decades.

Different generations.

Different summers.

**Same gates.**

Tonight, they'll close.

And then the facility will become much quieter.

But eventually, winter will pass.

The flowers will return.

The chairs will come back out.

The lifeguards will climb into their stands.

And we'll hear that familiar sound of people coming through the entrance again.

We'll get to start all over.

But not yet.

**We still have today.**

To every member, lifeguard, staff member, Recreation Department employee, maintenance worker, partner, sponsor, and friend who played a role in this season:

**We are grateful you were part of it.**

Now grab the towels.

Grab the goggles.

Bring the kids.

Come find your favorite chair.

🐊💙 **The gates are about to open one last time.**

**We'll see you inside.** 💙🐊