The Ol’ Swimming Hole

“Marco.”

“Polo.”

“Marco. Gotcha!” 

“You peeked.”

“No, I didn’t.  I caught you fair and square.”

I loved daily visits to the pool when we stayed with our grandparents during the summer. From the moment sunlight flooded into my upstairs bedroom to pop my eyelids open in the morning until the lifeguards opened the doors, I had only one thought on my mind--to swim until my swim-suit wearing, whistle blowing heroes shut lights off and locked gates. It didn’t take long after I’d checked in  with my season ticket before I was out the dressing room door and in head tuck-diving position near the deep end ladder. Kansas summers were for swimming, and I lived to splash, race, and dive in those refreshing blue waters.

As a youngster in the 60s and d 70s, I thought everyone took Red Cross swimming lessons and could stroke their way across the pool so they were allowed to go off the diving board. What a surprise when I discovered that many older people weren’t swimmers. When I innocently asked why they hadn’t gone to the pool to learn, the answer startled me.

 As youngsters, their community didn’t have a pool. Oftentimes, it wasn’t until the WPA built one that folks could enjoy seeing the bottom of a swimming hole. Those elders had done their splashing in creeks, rivers, ponds, and lakes if they swam at all.

During those dry years, many didn’t have a pond where they could dogpaddle on a hot day. As a result men like my uncle in Southwest Kansas joined the navy during WW II and learned to swim as an adult in military training. He wasn’t alone in this experience. What I considered a childhood rite of passage didn’t occur because there wasn’t anywhere to swim.

To a girl who’d learned the Australian crawl not long after she’d learned to walk, that required mulling.  No pools in these hot, western Kansas communities! And what was this WPA people mentioned?  Grandpa straightened me out on that. He explained it was the Works Progress Administration, designed to provide jobs for those who needed work during The Great Depression. These individuals built pools, park shelters,  and golf courses among other projects. 

When I visit towns like Ellis, Hays, Holton, and Herington, I marvel at the attractive stone structures that bear testament to this difficult time in this country. These pools were state of the art in terms of design and filtration systems. In addition, they weren’t useful only as watering holes where kids frolicked on scorching days. Skilled architects needed work as much as the laborers and masons who dug holes, poured cement, and set stone. These gifted artists designed attached concession stands and dressing rooms to please the eye as well serve specific functions.

I learned the WPA built 805 pools across America during the 30s and 40s. Communities continue to preserve and update them so that young and old can cool off during the dog days of summer. While not every town got a WPA swimming hole, word got around about how nice these were. Today, you rarely visit a Kansas community on a hot day without hearing youngsters hollering “Marco Polo” as they blindly chase friends through the water.

Late Season Cow Dipping

While calendars tell us summer is over and fall has begun, hordes of giant dragonflies ride still-warm breezes and wasps hover over ripe fruits. Summer birdsong tricks us into believing there’s plenty of time for a second round of ripe tomatoes and okra or many late season dips in a lake or pond. The reality is that frosty mornings are not far off. It won’t be long before summer tunes are silent, insects and birds will vanish, green leaves will turn to dry husks, and ice will crust ponds and lakes.

Driving to school in the shadow of a setting harvest moon on the final day of summer reminded me that morning sunrises would soon silhouette bare branches instead of peep through foliage. Currently, on my morning route, gold tones tint cottonwood leaves. Flocks of vultures congregate on elevators and tall antennae but no longer stretch wings to welcome sunrise. It’s too chilly. Mist or low lying clouds rise and float just above stubble fields and farm ponds, telling me ground and water temperatures differ from those of morning air. 

Despite signs that we are on the cusp of seasonal change, most of us enjoy the moment and postpone thoughts of icy roads and water tanks, snow covered driveways and sidewalks, and winter heat bills. We turn our faces to capture last warm rays and savor final cicada serenades. Some creatures literally immerse themselves in these last moments.

While cool temperatures created a smoke-on-the-water effect over a big pond on my morning path, by the time of my late afternoon return, those mists were long gone. The sun’s reflections glittered on the steel blue water as a heron stood sentinel on a dead tree branch. It was so pretty I stopped to take pictures.

Backlit by fall’s bright yellow sun, a herd of black cows crowded the water’s edge, mucking about in mud. Suddenly, one stepped into the pond and continued heading west. In the way that only cows know, the rest chose to follow their leader.

At first, the train of bovines waded in knee (do cows have knees?) deep. Slowly, water covered those ungainly bodies to the point I saw only ears and noses moving forward. Several times, even those dipped below the surface until I wondered who saved drowning cattle. Although I had been a lifeguard decades ago, I knew these huge beasts were beyond my rescue abilities.

Despite my concern, V’s of ripples continued moving across the pond until two black ovals and a big black squared reappeared from each. A bit at a time, the rest of those cumbersome forms emerged, shaking water droplets from their hides. Each spray reflected sunlight until it looked as if diamonds splintered off the black shapes.

I only watched the first members of the herd complete their swim across the deep pond before I drove off, smiling. It won’t be long before that water is too cold or too frozen for even thick hided Angus to cross. Watching cow dipping was a great way to enjoy my last day of summer 2013.