I was able to come home recently after working away for some time and had a chance to go by the pool. The water felt good. The sun felt steady and warm upon the skin. Classic tunes from Jackson Browne, Steely Dan, Gordon Lightfoot, Kenny Loggins, and John Mayer played from my JBL speaker.

Kids ran and jumped and played in the water. Moms and dads and grandparents sat poolside scrolling on their phones or napping or watching other people.

When it came time to leave, we crossed through the gate and I, always reading something, looked up to see this sign:

I am sure 99.9% of people would either not notice or, what’s worse, not care. But I shook my head and my mood plummeted, as if I had fallen into the deep end of the pool of linguistic despair.

Folks, when we cannot even spell restroom correctly, it’s no wonder our star has long faded. Maybe the man’s head was missing because he had been a grammarian, and he died of a brainplosion (new word; you’re welcome).