...due to the "corrosive nature of the humid, chorinated air"? This happened recently at a pool I swim at, and I have never heard of it happening anywhere. Thoughts? Experiences? I'm hearing from the peanut gallery (i.e. non-swimmers) that this sort of thing must happen or will happen elsewhere. Seems to me places like California and Florida, with the added salt in the air, would have safety measures/materials built in. So my thought, initially, is a) it was a fluke, or b) the construction wasn't done by a company experienced in pools.
Thanks for any thoughts.
Sorry, veering this thread off-topic. I ask your indulgence.
My mom's Aunt Ella and Uncle Jack lived in Balboa when I was a kid, perhaps three or four houses from the harbor on the peninsula side. Uncle Jack was a character. He was British, fought in WWI. His back was broken during the war, but he wasn't paralyzed for some reason. He had this enormous bump where his spine stuck out back. I've never seen anyone else like it to this day. He used to float on his back in the harbor reading the newspaper, had several boats, knew just where to drop your fishing line to catch halibut.
I came across some undeveloped film of my mom's probably 20 years ago. Not having any idea what was in the can, I sent it to a lab just for fun. There was a picture in there of me petting or feeding a pelican (I'll have to dig it up). No doubt Uncle Jack "tamed" it at some point. I have no other memory of that. Must have been eight or younger. My first long bike ride was from West LA (where I was a student at UCLA) to visit Aunt Ella on a heavy Schwinn Continental.
Jack and Ella are long gone. They were both wonderful people. Alas, there's a lot of water under the bridge since then, and I've long lost track of my mom's relatives. Given the price escalation near the water, I suspect there is no family in that neck of the woods anymore.
Sorry, veering this thread off-topic. I ask your indulgence.
My mom's Aunt Ella and Uncle Jack lived in Balboa when I was a kid, perhaps three or four houses from the harbor on the peninsula side. Uncle Jack was a character. He was British, fought in WWI. His back was broken during the war, but he wasn't paralyzed for some reason. He had this enormous bump where his spine stuck out back. I've never seen anyone else like it to this day. He used to float on his back in the harbor reading the newspaper, had several boats, knew just where to drop your fishing line to catch halibut.
I came across some undeveloped film of my mom's probably 20 years ago. Not having any idea what was in the can, I sent it to a lab just for fun. There was a picture in there of me petting or feeding a pelican (I'll have to dig it up). No doubt Uncle Jack "tamed" it at some point. I have no other memory of that. Must have been eight or younger. My first long bike ride was from West LA (where I was a student at UCLA) to visit Aunt Ella on a heavy Schwinn Continental.
Jack and Ella are long gone. They were both wonderful people. Alas, there's a lot of water under the bridge since then, and I've long lost track of my mom's relatives. Given the price escalation near the water, I suspect there is no family in that neck of the woods anymore.
