Ba…ba…ba, ba…bubble! Chaaaatttttttteeerrrrrr! The roar of bubblers punctuated with the sound of chattering teeth are all around me. I look up from my bubbles to see the blue lips of the boy next me bobbing on his toes in wiggling shivers. It’s Beginners’ swimming lessons at the Mt. Pleasant Pool. Whoever decided that swimming lesson should be held at 9 o’clock in the morning must have wanted little kids to hate swimming.
My earliest recollections of swimming are really just of wading. There was a wading pool down in Saunders Park. It was on the flat ground between the road and the creek. It seemed large to me. It had a big fountain in the middle. Its deepest part was only a few feet. I remember wading around the outside with my mother holding my hand. There was an 8’ X 10’ shed nearby that served as a place to pay and to buy snacks. After the new pool was built on the hillside near Clay Street the wading pool was turned into a lily pond and lasted for many years. The little shed lasted even longer and served as a mower shed until it was finally torn down. All that a now remains there is a slab of cement and that, too, may now be gone.
It was at the new swimming pool that I was finally old enough to take swimming lessons. Lessons usually begin in the last two weeks in June and lasted through July. Obviously, in those first few weeks the water and the morning, for that matter, could be pretty cool. It was almost cruel to make a kid get in the water. The instructors rarely got in themselves.
The kids were usually lined up on the deck of the pool and were given instruction. I remember sitting there listening with my knees pulled up to my chin trying to stay warm under a too small towel. Then the instructor would have us get in the water and hold on to the side with both hands. There we practiced our kick and blowing bubbles. Few of us could touch the bottom in the three feet of water and held on to the side with a death grip. Then we would get out and stand on the deck. Cold and wet we would try to dry off but soon the towel was as cold and wet as we were. The instructor lined us up on the side and practiced moving our arms as you would doing the crawl stroke. So shivering cold, we were waving the cool air like a field full of windmills.
I failed beginners that first year. I just never got warm enough to be in the water that summer. To pass you needed to be able to swim across and back in the deep end of the pool without assistance. I didn’t care to try it.
The next year we had a much warmer summer. I actually passed Beginners a little over half way through the six weeks. Passing beginners meant you could go off the diving boards and swim anywhere in the pool you wanted. The floodgates were open for me! The next year I took Intermediate as soon as I could and begged to be let into the Swimmers class a year early. The instructor relented and let me take it but because of my age couldn’t give me a certificate so I took it again the next year. I had found a place where I could excel.
I joined the AAU swimming team that practiced at the pool every afternoon. We competed with other towns that had their own teams. When it came time for the annual Mt. Pleasant Pool Swimming Meet I signed up for every event I could get in.
When I told someone I had taken all of the courses I could take they said, “What about Advance Swimmer?” I asked Mrs. Carper, head of the local Red Cross Chapter and the swimming coach at Iowa Wesleyan, if I could take that class. She said they really didn’t have anyone qualified to teach it. The course focused on perfection in each stroke. She had me get in the water and show her some of my strokes. After awhile I got out and asked her if I could take it. She said, “Yes” and she would teach it. She said I needed to get a few others to take it just to make it worth it so I did.
I took the course from Mrs. Carper, who had to be at least 60 years old by that time. She did get in the water with us and demonstrated often. Of the four of us who took the course I was the only one who passed.
Later, came Junior and Senior Lifesaving, Water Safety Instructor training, National Aquatic School and Handicapped Swimmer Instructor Training, and Swimming for Iowa Wesleyan College. Those stories are yet to be told.
This ends the official Sardine Chronicles, the stories of the first 12 years of my life. There are many more stories to tell about that period but I am moving on to the next 10 years, the 60s. I may still, from time to time, add stories to this part but there are many to tell about the next 10 years as well.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Vacations
Vacation trips were unusual when I was growing up. They were expensive and we just didn’t have money for that. Usually, when my Dad had his vacation week he would just work around home or go arrowhead hunting. Sometimes he took his vacation time during Old Threshers so he could work in the church food tent or show his arrowheads in the antique building. That wasn’t much of a vacation!
I can remember three significant vacations during those early years. Mom, Dad, Loretta and I went to South Dakota. We went to visit Nancy when she lived in Washington, DC, and I went with the Liechtys to New York City and then to Washington, DC. I really can’t do these trips justice here but will give a brief overview of each.
I remember the trip to South Dakota! I remember the long trip across South Dakota. David had told me about Wall Drug and so I watched for the signs. Wall Drug was famous for its signs. They were spread out all the way across the state. Each one designed to get your attention and convince you to stop when you finally got there. We did! Dad was convinced it was a tourist trap and he was right! From there we crossed the Bad Lands and then into the Black Hills. I remember Mt. Rushmore and the Passion play at Spearfish. This trip was part of Loretta’s preparation for the ministry because she endured my torment all the way there and back. She truly got a glimpse of what hell is like.
We also went by train to Washington, DC to visit Nancy and Bill. I loved the train ride! It was an overnight trip and the click clack of the train put me to sleep that night. Once, in the middle of the night, I woke up. The train had stopped somewhere in Pennsylvania. It was half in a long tunnel and half out on a high bridge. Why it was stopped I don’t know but they let Dad and I get off briefly and look down into the deep gorge. Then we were on our way again.
Nancy lived on MacArthur Boulevard in a nice second floor apartment. She secretly kept a rabbit in the apartment the whole time she was there. She took us on grand adventures to the Capitol, the Washington Monument, Jefferson Memorial, the U.S. Mint, and the Smithsonian Museum. I was awestruck most of the time. We even got a tour of the White House and met our Representative, Fred Schwengal, who gave me a newly minted penny. Then and every time that I met that man after word he treated me like I was his best friend.
Max Liechty was a rural letter carrier and their annual convention was in Washington, DC. He planned a family trip that included a week in New York City and then a week at the convention in Washington. For some reason, his sons, Joe and Jerry, decided that I should go along. My parents reasoned that I could see New York City and then spend a week with my sister and that I might as well go.
We drove straight through to New York in the Liechty’s car. Max and his wife were in front seat and us three boys were in the back. It was not exactly the most comfortable ride I have ever had. Sleeping was pretty much out of the question. I remember seeing the lights of New York long before we got there. I was amazed at how bright they were and how they lit up the sky.
We stayed in a hotel in downtown New York while we were there. We could see the Empire State building from the window of our room. That week we went to the top of the Empire State building and the Statue of Liberty. I bought a disappearing coin trick and a magic shop. I still have it! Mrs. Liechty and Max were on the TV show Queen for a Day and won everything but the final question. They asked Max to say the Boy Scout oath and his mind just went blank. Month’s later crates of the prizes they won were shipped to their house. It included clothing, kitchen appliances, and furniture.
We left New York and the Liechtys dropped me off at Nancy’s apartment in Washington. I was there for about five days. I was very tired from my week in New York and not real excited about doing anything. I think after the first day or so Nancy was ready to send me on my way. She did take me many places including a trip to Chesapeake Bay for a day of swimming and playing in the sand. We also went to an outdoor concert in a park.
At the end of the week the Liechtys loaded me up in their car and we headed for home. I don’t remember much about the trip and only remember being exhausted when we got home. My Mom said I slept for two days after that trip.
I can remember three significant vacations during those early years. Mom, Dad, Loretta and I went to South Dakota. We went to visit Nancy when she lived in Washington, DC, and I went with the Liechtys to New York City and then to Washington, DC. I really can’t do these trips justice here but will give a brief overview of each.
I remember the trip to South Dakota! I remember the long trip across South Dakota. David had told me about Wall Drug and so I watched for the signs. Wall Drug was famous for its signs. They were spread out all the way across the state. Each one designed to get your attention and convince you to stop when you finally got there. We did! Dad was convinced it was a tourist trap and he was right! From there we crossed the Bad Lands and then into the Black Hills. I remember Mt. Rushmore and the Passion play at Spearfish. This trip was part of Loretta’s preparation for the ministry because she endured my torment all the way there and back. She truly got a glimpse of what hell is like.
We also went by train to Washington, DC to visit Nancy and Bill. I loved the train ride! It was an overnight trip and the click clack of the train put me to sleep that night. Once, in the middle of the night, I woke up. The train had stopped somewhere in Pennsylvania. It was half in a long tunnel and half out on a high bridge. Why it was stopped I don’t know but they let Dad and I get off briefly and look down into the deep gorge. Then we were on our way again.
Nancy lived on MacArthur Boulevard in a nice second floor apartment. She secretly kept a rabbit in the apartment the whole time she was there. She took us on grand adventures to the Capitol, the Washington Monument, Jefferson Memorial, the U.S. Mint, and the Smithsonian Museum. I was awestruck most of the time. We even got a tour of the White House and met our Representative, Fred Schwengal, who gave me a newly minted penny. Then and every time that I met that man after word he treated me like I was his best friend.
Max Liechty was a rural letter carrier and their annual convention was in Washington, DC. He planned a family trip that included a week in New York City and then a week at the convention in Washington. For some reason, his sons, Joe and Jerry, decided that I should go along. My parents reasoned that I could see New York City and then spend a week with my sister and that I might as well go.
We drove straight through to New York in the Liechty’s car. Max and his wife were in front seat and us three boys were in the back. It was not exactly the most comfortable ride I have ever had. Sleeping was pretty much out of the question. I remember seeing the lights of New York long before we got there. I was amazed at how bright they were and how they lit up the sky.
We stayed in a hotel in downtown New York while we were there. We could see the Empire State building from the window of our room. That week we went to the top of the Empire State building and the Statue of Liberty. I bought a disappearing coin trick and a magic shop. I still have it! Mrs. Liechty and Max were on the TV show Queen for a Day and won everything but the final question. They asked Max to say the Boy Scout oath and his mind just went blank. Month’s later crates of the prizes they won were shipped to their house. It included clothing, kitchen appliances, and furniture.
We left New York and the Liechtys dropped me off at Nancy’s apartment in Washington. I was there for about five days. I was very tired from my week in New York and not real excited about doing anything. I think after the first day or so Nancy was ready to send me on my way. She did take me many places including a trip to Chesapeake Bay for a day of swimming and playing in the sand. We also went to an outdoor concert in a park.
At the end of the week the Liechtys loaded me up in their car and we headed for home. I don’t remember much about the trip and only remember being exhausted when we got home. My Mom said I slept for two days after that trip.
Monday, March 13, 2006
Smoking
When I was growing up Madison Street was paved to a spot about two blocks west of our house. There it turned to gravel. That was the edge of town and beyond there were farmhouses and countryside. The gravel road led down a long hill and crossed a bridge over Saunders Branch. Saunders Branch is a small stream that runs from the north edge of town. On it’s way to Saunders Park and then to Big Creek, it fills and overflows Coles Pond. The creek, all along its path, was a big attraction to young boys.
I wandered down to that creek and we played war and cowboys in that area many times. We floated boats down the stream and built dams with the rocks in the creek bed. I probably fell in that stream a hundred times. Under normal conditions it was only a few inches deep. After a big rainstorm it could be a raging disaster. I saw the water raise over the road at the bridge many times. A boy in that water would be dead. I knew it and was terrified by the thought and stayed away when it was like that.
So when some of the boys stole cigarettes from their parents and said they were going to smoke them under the Madison Street bridge I knew exactly where they were talking about. Most of these guys were people I didn’t play with often. My cousin Terry was part of the group and Billy Jackson decided to join in for this adventure. Billy had already stolen a smoke or two from his parents and he thought he could give some advice.
I went along, too, although I was not tremendously interested in it. After school we made our way down Madison, over the hill and down to the bridge. There we left the road and went down on the sand and gravel under the bridge. It was a big concrete bridge with walls about two feet high on the sides. It was dark and damp under the bridge. You couldn’t stand fully upright without hitting your head on the bottom of the bridge. It was usually wet and slimy.
When we got there, one of the boys, Mike, dug down into his pocket and pulled out a half crinkled package of cigarettes. The pack was about half full. He pulled out a cigarette that was bent and smashed. Tom pulled out some big stick matches and looked around for a stone to scratch it on. The stones in the creek bed were too damp but he found one on the bank that looked dry and he tried to strike the match on it. The first match broke before it would light. Matches were not quite as reliable then as they are now. The second match burst into yellow flame and Tom extended his arm toward Mike.
Mike drew the cigarette to his mouth and stuck the other end in the flame. Mike puffed and the air filled with a cloud of smoke. Next the cigarette was passed from boy to boy. Each of us tried to look as natural as possible when our turn came. We didn’t really know what we were doing. It must have dawned on Gary how ridiculous we looked and he started laughing hysterically and pointing at each kid as he tried to smoke. That annoyed the more seasoned among the group.
Mike stopped sharing his cigarette. When it was gone he lit up another and smoked it all by himself. Then he gave one to Tom who didn’t share his either. The rest of us lost interest and wandered off to find something more interesting to do. Only a small group stayed behind. That group was punished about a week later when the principal got wind of what had occurred. Those of us who had wandered off were somehow not implicated.
I wandered down to that creek and we played war and cowboys in that area many times. We floated boats down the stream and built dams with the rocks in the creek bed. I probably fell in that stream a hundred times. Under normal conditions it was only a few inches deep. After a big rainstorm it could be a raging disaster. I saw the water raise over the road at the bridge many times. A boy in that water would be dead. I knew it and was terrified by the thought and stayed away when it was like that.
So when some of the boys stole cigarettes from their parents and said they were going to smoke them under the Madison Street bridge I knew exactly where they were talking about. Most of these guys were people I didn’t play with often. My cousin Terry was part of the group and Billy Jackson decided to join in for this adventure. Billy had already stolen a smoke or two from his parents and he thought he could give some advice.
I went along, too, although I was not tremendously interested in it. After school we made our way down Madison, over the hill and down to the bridge. There we left the road and went down on the sand and gravel under the bridge. It was a big concrete bridge with walls about two feet high on the sides. It was dark and damp under the bridge. You couldn’t stand fully upright without hitting your head on the bottom of the bridge. It was usually wet and slimy.
When we got there, one of the boys, Mike, dug down into his pocket and pulled out a half crinkled package of cigarettes. The pack was about half full. He pulled out a cigarette that was bent and smashed. Tom pulled out some big stick matches and looked around for a stone to scratch it on. The stones in the creek bed were too damp but he found one on the bank that looked dry and he tried to strike the match on it. The first match broke before it would light. Matches were not quite as reliable then as they are now. The second match burst into yellow flame and Tom extended his arm toward Mike.
Mike drew the cigarette to his mouth and stuck the other end in the flame. Mike puffed and the air filled with a cloud of smoke. Next the cigarette was passed from boy to boy. Each of us tried to look as natural as possible when our turn came. We didn’t really know what we were doing. It must have dawned on Gary how ridiculous we looked and he started laughing hysterically and pointing at each kid as he tried to smoke. That annoyed the more seasoned among the group.
Mike stopped sharing his cigarette. When it was gone he lit up another and smoked it all by himself. Then he gave one to Tom who didn’t share his either. The rest of us lost interest and wandered off to find something more interesting to do. Only a small group stayed behind. That group was punished about a week later when the principal got wind of what had occurred. Those of us who had wandered off were somehow not implicated.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Sledding
We had two primary hills for sledding when I was growing up. There were others that we used on occasion but none as regularly as these two. One was across the street from my house on the north side of Saunders School. The other was the hill in Saunders Park near the big stone fireplace.
The school hill got heavy use and some of the neighborhood kids even groomed it to make it better. Kids sledded on it during the day at recess times. It was busy after school until about 5:30 and then everyone went home for supper. By 6:30 or 7:00 many kids were back and would sled well into the evening. I can remember my mother calling in a high-pitched voice, “Perrrrreeeeeee!” when it was time for me to come home.
These were the days before we knew about wind chill and would often stay a lot longer than we should and come home frostbit and shivering. I remember someone saying to me, “Are you cold? Your cheeks are bright red!” and I shrugged and said, “Not that cold.” and stayed out until my mother called. I did hate when the snow got packed in the space between the top or my gloves and the sleeve of my coat. It would get packed tight in there and my arm would feel like it was broken it would hurt so badly!
The school hill was long and gentle. It was surprising how far down the hill you could go on the packed snow. The type of sled we used most were the ones with runners. I did have a saucer sled but it didn’t work well on a gentle hill. Runner sleds would cut ruts in the snow and so we would often add snow and pack it down. If it would melt a little and then freeze hard then it would be really good. You could go a long way!
I loved it there at night in the twilight, with the air crisp, and the night still. It was as if time stopped and you could soak in the experience. Somehow you are warm all over and there is a calmness that comes over you.
I had that same experience at the hill in Saunders Park. There, they would sometimes build a roaring fire in the big stone fireplace and kids would hover around and share hot chocolate. The social aspect made it a big draw to the kids of the community.
The hill in the park is longer and steeper than the one at the school. It attracted people from all over town. It was kind of a gathering place on winter evenings when there was snow on the ground. The fragrant smell of burning wood wafted from the fireplace and the park is a beautiful setting.
A trip down the hill could take you all the way to the creek, nearly a hundred yards! Climbing back up was always a challenge because the hill was steep and slippery and you had to avoid other kids walking down. We had two simple rules. One was to always walk up the outside and the other was that when you come to a stop you need to get up and get out of the way. It was next to impossible to get kids to follow either.
It seemed as though you could tell a kid a dozen times to walk up the outside and he would still get up and walk right up the middle. Invariably he would get clobbered and blame the sledder. Some kids would slide down the hill and then just sprawl in the snow. They, too, would get hit and more than one lip got bloodied. So among the squeals of joy and excitement you would hear, “Walk up the outside!” or “Get out of the way!”
Occasionally someone would hit a tree or the fireplace and a trip to the hospital on the other side of the park would be necessary. I can think of two or three people who were seriously injured on that hill. I, fortunately, avoided any serious accidents there.
What draws us to want to slide I don’t know? I did learn as a teacher and a principal that it is all most impossible to stop kids from sliding on ice or down a hill with or without a sled. Something about us doesn’t want to be earth bound.
The school hill got heavy use and some of the neighborhood kids even groomed it to make it better. Kids sledded on it during the day at recess times. It was busy after school until about 5:30 and then everyone went home for supper. By 6:30 or 7:00 many kids were back and would sled well into the evening. I can remember my mother calling in a high-pitched voice, “Perrrrreeeeeee!” when it was time for me to come home.
These were the days before we knew about wind chill and would often stay a lot longer than we should and come home frostbit and shivering. I remember someone saying to me, “Are you cold? Your cheeks are bright red!” and I shrugged and said, “Not that cold.” and stayed out until my mother called. I did hate when the snow got packed in the space between the top or my gloves and the sleeve of my coat. It would get packed tight in there and my arm would feel like it was broken it would hurt so badly!
The school hill was long and gentle. It was surprising how far down the hill you could go on the packed snow. The type of sled we used most were the ones with runners. I did have a saucer sled but it didn’t work well on a gentle hill. Runner sleds would cut ruts in the snow and so we would often add snow and pack it down. If it would melt a little and then freeze hard then it would be really good. You could go a long way!
I loved it there at night in the twilight, with the air crisp, and the night still. It was as if time stopped and you could soak in the experience. Somehow you are warm all over and there is a calmness that comes over you.
I had that same experience at the hill in Saunders Park. There, they would sometimes build a roaring fire in the big stone fireplace and kids would hover around and share hot chocolate. The social aspect made it a big draw to the kids of the community.
The hill in the park is longer and steeper than the one at the school. It attracted people from all over town. It was kind of a gathering place on winter evenings when there was snow on the ground. The fragrant smell of burning wood wafted from the fireplace and the park is a beautiful setting.
A trip down the hill could take you all the way to the creek, nearly a hundred yards! Climbing back up was always a challenge because the hill was steep and slippery and you had to avoid other kids walking down. We had two simple rules. One was to always walk up the outside and the other was that when you come to a stop you need to get up and get out of the way. It was next to impossible to get kids to follow either.
It seemed as though you could tell a kid a dozen times to walk up the outside and he would still get up and walk right up the middle. Invariably he would get clobbered and blame the sledder. Some kids would slide down the hill and then just sprawl in the snow. They, too, would get hit and more than one lip got bloodied. So among the squeals of joy and excitement you would hear, “Walk up the outside!” or “Get out of the way!”
Occasionally someone would hit a tree or the fireplace and a trip to the hospital on the other side of the park would be necessary. I can think of two or three people who were seriously injured on that hill. I, fortunately, avoided any serious accidents there.
What draws us to want to slide I don’t know? I did learn as a teacher and a principal that it is all most impossible to stop kids from sliding on ice or down a hill with or without a sled. Something about us doesn’t want to be earth bound.
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