Tubbing Tales in a Melting Pot
My Oakland hot tub connects many people from different walks of life
Nestled in the Oakland Hills rests a rectangular aquatic sanctuary. Call it the jacuzzi or hot tub, this oasis registers at 104 degrees and measures 12 x 20 feet. It is the smallest and closest body of water that I can wade into other than my bathtub. Lawn chairs and a few round glass tables adorn the periphery, and a large stainless dial awaits frequent pushing to reactivate its jacuzzi bubbles. I have relished this hot tub for fifteen years and it sports so many positive and evocative memories for me, my husband Ted, and the club members that enjoy it.
As my vision declines to its current level of light perception and detection of basic forms only, my use of this tub has changed immensely. While I cannot identify who is in the hot tub with me or their facial expressions, one constant feeling remains — that of the hot water caressing my muscles and psyche, both before and after my swim. The stainless-steel railing beckons me to descend the tub’s four stairs and immerse myself into a temporary state of Nirvana. Sometimes, I choose to situate my lower back in front of a forceful jet and at other times, I prefer to be soothed by her warm, still waters.
Many club members reward themselves after a swim or workout by vegging out in the hot tub. So many images and vignettes course through my mind of my experiences here, whether alone with Ted, or with the many others who became friends and tub-mates. Probably the most remarkable event was a time about five years ago when my vision was on a rapid decline, and I passed a gentleman in the corner of the hot tub that I knew well. He voiced a mild, disgruntled sentiment, “Hey, are you not talking to me today?” to which I responded, “Oh Randy, it’s you! I just couldn’t see you.”
To this, he quipped, “What do you mean, you didn’t see this great big black dude in the corner? It’s me!” Once he understood that I did not intentionally ignore him, he forgave me. Rather than shrinking from his critique, I joined in on making light of my unintentional foible. We laughed as I sat across from him in the tub and carried on with a wide gamut of stories — U.S. politics, his dental practice, our retirement, and any upcoming travels.
The hot tub becomes a forum for releasing, unleashing, or meditating on life’s events. For me, it is important that people identify themselves by name because I cannot always connect a person’s voice to their name, face, or story. I view the hot tub as a fragrant blend of cultures and experiences, especially during the times of the Covid pandemic.
The hot tub relieves isolation and loneliness by becoming a forum or platform through which tubbers can share and connect. Differences in opinion or politics become distilled in the ether and steam of 104-degree water. If hot tub conversations deteriorate into arguments, then our purpose of being in the hot tub is lost. We keep our voices at a low, conversational level so that we do not intrude on the space or well-being of other tubbers, unless invited to share with more enthusiasm.
Another event in the hot tub was when Ted and I befriended Daisey and Ben, recent transplants from Washington D. C. Our strong bonding in the hot tub led to Daisey’s induction into my 15 member women’s book club. I recount with amusement how my many book club members playfully chide me to avoid any more hot tub invitations to our reading buddies, since 15 members strains the capacity of most members’ seating arrangements in their homes. Daisey’s addition to the book club would not have been possible without the benefits of the hot tub and being at the right place at the right time.
One sunny afternoon, Ted discovered a link to a man named Kevin who was raised in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. Upon mention of Kevin’s birthplace, Ted chimed in that his brother, Marios, had taught there briefly as a sociologist professor at the Middle Tennessee State, more than 40 years ago. That link opened the doors to more sharing. Kevin worked as a physicist at a Berkeley lab and told us about his dating life with his wife, Jasmine. We also ventured into political activity topics, as he was a strident Biden supporter during the overpopulated 20+ candidates for the 2020 presidential election.
To begin the New Year of 2022, I felt a period of prolonged joy and exhilaration when across from me, this same Kevin, greeted us exuberantly, saying, “Hi Ted and Kathy, I haven’t seen you in a while!” This had been due to the season of Covid. I sensed immediately his joyful mood, his tender spirit, and his palpable willingness to engage with us. I imagined the white of his teeth as he smiled. As we continued to share our daily struggles with Covid, we happened upon a subject that just delighted me.
Given that my poor vision can never accurately detect a person’s physical characteristics, the fact that Kevin was between 6’5” and 6’6” had completely evaded me. When I further asked Kevin how tall his wife was, I sensed a sheepish yet humorous connection to their dating past as he gave her height as five-foot even. I told him, Wow, she must have needed a stool or ladder to kiss you. To which Kevin replied, Here’s the story of how we met.
While Kevin was in DC, he frequented a favorite Caribbean restaurant and dance club. The night they met, fifteen years ago, he bargained with himself to choose the tallest woman across the dance floor to join him in a dance, when he noticed Jasmine. When their eyes met, and he approached her, he noted with amusement that she had been on a series of steps, which obviously added height to her stature. When she descended, and they began dancing, he also began laughing.
Initially, she interpreted that as a reaction to her dancing, but at the end of the dance, he confided in her that it was their height disparity that indeed made him laugh. This was their first date and began seven months of dating in DC, before returning to California where they got engaged. They eventually had two robust boys named August and Justice, and now the rest is history. Ted and I get to enjoy special moments like this with Kevin in the hot tub. Kevin added that he employs the jacuzzi to remedy his back since with his extreme height, he finds he must bend for everything.
We have known Lily, a drama and theater teacher at a local four-year college, for five years as a quiet lounger in the hot tub. In March of 2022 our relationship changed. She was involved in a motor vehicle accident as a pedestrian where she sustained significant injuries that limited her mobility, initially requiring a wheelchair and then a cane to get around. She had two daughters who assisted her into the hot tub during this time, but in March we noticed a different person with her. She introduced them as her significant other, Bradley. She was a widow but had known him for ten years. When I asked how the two of them met, she segued into an inspirational story about their meeting.
They met in Paris at a café, where Bradley was sitting with his sister, talking about Yoshi’s, an Oakland jazz venue and Japanese restaurant. Her ears perked up and she turned to comment on their mention of Yoshi’s, which wasn’t far from where she lived. In the coming weeks she discovered that they had gone to the same high school in New York and graduated in the same class, without ever knowing each other.
When asked about their age, they added that their joint ages numbered 166, so I calculated that they were 83. Lily opened a new side to herself, and her conversation flowed with more affection and fluidity than I had previously encountered with her. This disclosure about how she and Bradley met echoes some elements of how Kevin and Jasmine first met. It is so special for me to hear about these cherished aspects of a person’s life and who they spend time with.
Within the last year, membership at the club plummeted by 20% due to Covid restrictions, and now that these restrictions have eased, many more families with playful and rambunctious children abound. Since child members can only use the tub from 3–6 PM, we make a deliberate choice to either time our swimming before or after the children’s arrival.
When youngsters are present, we listen as they gleefully interact amongst themselves or with their parents, sometimes ducking, splashing, or yelling out in glee, “Oh, this hot tub feels just like a bath!” There are times when the communal hot tub minimizes our interaction due to a loud group of people, which makes it hard to think due to my auditory sensitivity. There are times when we need to exit, shower, and spend some quiet time in the club room so we can have our conversations and decompress.
Recently, Ted and I soaked in the hot tub across from an attentive grandfather, Dylan, and his two-and-a-half-year-old grandson named Tyler. Tyler was forthright in manner, precocious in his speech, and enjoyed talking with us. Enthusiastically, he mentioned his preschool, new friends, and teachers that he enjoys. He helped us notice that multiple jets in the hot tub were not boiling.
We talked about the challenges of COVID and his daughter and son in law and the troubles of working at home and how they had trouble acquiring childcare for Tyler, so they enlisted the help of the grandparents 4 days a week. Tyler teased his grandfather by pouring the warm water over his body or over his hair. We had an opportunity to follow up with Dylan alone six months later, and he enjoyed sharing the highlights of Tyler’s third birthday party in his backyard where there was face-painting, a trampoline, and abundant good food.
One day, a French speaking man, Jon, lavished in the warmth with his two daughters, Clara and Joy. As Ted and I listened to their casual French conversation, we asked, “Are the girls bilingual?” To which he added, “Well, even more than that, since their mother is Vietnamese, and their nanny speaks Spanish.” Ted and I remarked in amazement, “They are truly polylingual!” With some chagrin, we noted how much more difficult it is to acquire language skills in retirement years, as opposed to the nubile brain of a young child.
Another time, we met a Spanish-speaking grandmother named Regina who was raised in Mexico City and came to California in her 20s. Her grandchildren in the hot tub addressed her as Yaya, to which Ted remarked, “Oh, that is similar to the Greek title for grandmother which is Yia Yia.” Our conversation continued with a focus on the pleasure my husband has with improving his fluency with Spanish, both in Zoom classes and in person. Our sharing covered her early memories of Mexico, the joy of preparing homemade Mexican cuisine, and the challenges of incorporating Hispanic and Anglo cultures in the Bay Area. We also added with pride that our daughter Eleni is fluent in Spanish and functions as a healthcare interpreter and translator.
In the last year, I met a middle-aged, enthusiastic swimmer and tubber named Khuram, who often accompanies his two daughters, Lily and Rose. Although his daughters are quiet and timid when they come into the tub, I comment to them that they are like little fish or dolphins in the shallow end of the pool where they frolic with their dad. I have learned that Khuram and his wife, Roberta, have adapted to Covid restrictions by providing their daughters with a preschool enrichment program with several neighbors, situated in the garage of their home.
They’ve created a nurtured pod of students by hiring a preschool teacher and incorporated gradual increases of the preschool curriculum into Spanish. I admire their ingenuity and dedication to their daughters’ early childhood years where they weave education, safety, and socialization into morning periods for both fun and learning. Then they can enjoy some pleasurable time with parents, frolicking at the club. Whenever I hear them in the pool with their dad, it brings me a sense of contentment and pleasure.
One of the greatest benefits to me of the hot tub experience is its constant influx of new and diverse life stories from many parts of the world. Even when I am relaxing, I try to reach out to those other occupants in the water and learn something about them. My husband, Ted, may need to interpret for me the body language that may signify a tubber’s resistance to being part of the social matrix i.e., turned around, back towards us, reading a book or other closed forms of body language. I am accustomed to Ted being my second pair of eyes to interpret these signals for me. I want the hot tub to not be just a relaxing and passive experience, but a chance to create a connection.
Ted proudly announces to whoever is within earshot that he is from Cyprus and came to the U. S. at age 16. A male tubbing companion’s ears perked up and he said, “Oh, you’re from Cyprus? That is close to where my wife was born in Niccosia!” A flurry of ideas continues about the history of Cyprus, the partition of Cyprus into Turkish vs Greek, some of the culinary delights we share, and our every two-to-three-year trips back home.
The hot tub is not just for new interactions but for facilitating older friendships. One friend, Bruce, we have known for the past sixteen years, starting from the time that his son was three, to present, with his son now a sophomore at Cal Poly. In our friendship with Bruce and his wife Katie, we home in on quiet reflection, evocative questions, or just being together. It amazes Ted and I to notice that Bruce uses the club twice daily, without fail, for his swims and he sports a lean and fit body to match. He is now retired and often brings his nine-year-old daughter, Annie, and her best friend, Sophie, to join him. I view Bruce as a cornerstone of my hot tub experiences, both because of the length of time I have known him, but also because of his kind and placid demeanor while he tubs.
So, what has the hot tub meant to me? It’s been so many things: a touchstone for contact with others, a total relaxant, and a cherished gift to my heart and soul. Gratitude courses through me when I realize I do not have to travel to international mineral springs or bathhouses, like the Gellért Baths in Budapest, Hungary, The Blue Lagoon in Grindavik, Iceland, or the Takaragawa Onsen, in Gunma, Japan. Rather, I reap the benefits of this body of water, a mere half mile away from my home. Thank you to the tub and my tubbing mates for your many gifts to my life.
