Heat surrounds me in heavy humid drifts in the dressing room at the Albany pool. Overhead pipes drip on naked torsos. My inner arms expand – embrace each face: Chinese, Japanese, Caucasian matrons, Blacks, bleached from inter-marriage, aspiring school kids – eager to learn. Baring our bodies, an olio of faiths orbits in laps toward the other side. Deep or shallow – open for torahs, arks, crosses, chadros, little Hoti Buddhas. The life guard stands ready, paroles the Olympic expanse, … Read on…