Jumping off the Dock

Back Camera

When I was a little girl, I loved to swim, almost as much as I liked to dance.  Every summer, Mom signed me up for swimming lessons at Myers Lake.  All through grade-school I took swimming lessons.  I learned to swim the first year, still, it was loads of fun to go back each year. I’ll never been to Myers Lake.  I’ll never forget swimming lessons.

Nobody swam at a pool around my house:  there were no public pools around me, and for sure nobody had a pool big enough to swim in at their house.  For Pete’s sake, everybody knew that kind of stuff was just for movie stars and millionaires.  Around me, pools were just for the Little Kids.  Mom bought one of those, but it was a pain in the neck:  grass got kicked into it, the our dog Nikki, drank out of it, Frankie went #1  in it, I think our lamb, Jack, went #2 in it, and finally it sprang a leak and failed to hold any water at all.  Like I said, Mom bought one.  Once.

To get to swimming lessons, Mom drove me to school, where I got on a school bus with a whole bunch of kids.  My friends Daylene and Connie walked to school, so swimming lessons was the only time they rode a bus.  It was different from school.  For one thing, everybody had on shorts and jeans over our swimsuits.  No dresses, not one.  Nobody knew where to sit, cuz of lots of different kids and no high-schoolers, so everybody just got mixed up and in different seats than on the way to school.  On the way to school, it was like assigned seats with nobody telling us which seat to take; we just knew.  I liked to sit on the bump; the wheel was under there, so if the bus driver went over a bump, Continue reading

Down to Earth Again

I came home from camping this year, a day early.  My I-phone and Weatherbug notified me of pending thunderstorms  the day we planned to break-camp.  There’s nothing worse than taking down a wet tent and packing up wet gear.  Well, on second thought, a week of rainy weather with nine children in a canvas tent might beat all forms of torture.  That’s what happened more than once, when I was a little girl.  Somehow it seemed more like an adventure than any kind of torture.  We always went camping the first week of August when it often rained every day and got pretty darned cold at night.  I’m not sure why Dad picked that time of the year, but he never varied.

Camping Overlooking the Tree Tops

We never knew for sure if it was going to rain all day or just for a little while.  Sometimes we got all cooped up in our tent with nothing to do.  Dad gave us a dime for each fly we could kill while he took a nap.  I got about two dozen, Continue reading

Jumping off the Dock

When I was a little girl, I loved to swim, almost as much as I liked to dance.  Every summer, Mom signed me up for swimming lessons at Myers Lake.  All through grade-school I took swimming lessons.  I learned to swim the first year, still, it was loads of fun to go back each year.  I’ll never forget the first time.  I’d never been to Myers Lake before.

Nobody swam at a pool around my house:  there were no public pools around me, and for sure nobody had a pool big enough to swim in at their house.  For Pete’s sake, everybody knew that kind of stuff was just for movie stars and millionaires.  Around me, pools were just for the Little Kids.  Mom bought one of those, but it was a pain in the neck:  grass got kicked into it, the our dog Nikki, drank out of it, Frankie went #1  in it, I think our lamb, Jack, went #2 in it, and finally it sprang a leak and failed to hold any water at all.  Like I said, Mom bought one.  Once.

Mom drove me to school, where I got on a school bus with a whole bunch of kids.  My friends Daylene and Connie walked to school, so swimming lessons was the only time they rode a bus.  It was different from school.  For one thing, everybody had on shorts and jeans over our swimsuits.  No dresses, not one.  Nobody knew where to sit, ’cause lots of different kids and no high-schoolers, so everybody just got mixed up and in different seats than on the way to school.  I liked to sit on the bump; the wheel was under there, so if the bus driver went over a bump, Continue reading