Some of you have heard me talk about dropping flowers off of a bridge when I was little and recently about the old swimming hole we use to go to when I was younger. I thought I would revisit that subject for a little bit. Sometimes I think about all the things I use to do as a kid and all the simple pleasures we use to have that my nephews and nieces will never know about. This is for two reasons that I can immediately think of off the top of my head. First these types of places just don’t seem to exist anymore and second people just don’t think that way anymore.
Years ago I was at a meeting with one of the doctors I worked for and she was making the comment that her children were not allowed to watch TV and play videos games. Well, I immediately asked her why not and she said, “I want them outside playing in the yard and doing things I use to do as a child.” I asked her why they should be limited to things she use to do when times have changed so much. I told her my mother use to play with syrup bucket filled with sand on a piece of bailing wire, but she wanted something better than that for us. I don’t have any kids, but I think I understand where she was coming from now. Though, I do wonder if she really wanted her children to experience those things or if she was somehow trying to recapture those feeling and experiences for herself.
On hot summer days we would always head to the creek to cool off with Momma and Daddy. It was on a dirt road filled with old wooden bridges. We would sit on the edge of the old bridges and catch spotted channel cats with cane poles. This wasn’t a short visit, this was an all day event and the entire family was included. Momma would always pack lunch and we have a watermelon with us. Momma would always float the melon in the creek to cool it down. She would tie crochet thread to the little pigtail on it and secure it to the bank to keep it from floating off downstream. Watermelons float very well in a creek, unlike a full bottle of whiskey which is a whole nuther story. That was a very disappointing day for my Daddy, his brother and his cousin Ted…
We had so much fun on those days and it was such an uncomplicated happiness. Sitting on the tailgate of a 1955 GMC pickup truck riding down the dirt road dangling our feet and legs as we rode. It wasn’t unusual for us to spend hours at the time doing this. And, we were perfectly happy to do so.
Some time back, on a trip home I decided to pay a visit to some of these old places, just for the memories and hoping to catch a glimpse of those old feelings. It was very disappointing to see that several of those dirt roads are now paved. No more wild yellow plumbs growing in the ditch, all of the old huckleberry bushes uprooted and torn away to make room for the shoulder of the road. But the old “Creek Road” was still there, only for me to find the scene below at our beautiful little creek and swimming hole. This is the view from the old bridge where I dropped the flower heads in the stream 40 years ago.


Please forgive the quality of the photos they were taken with an older camera. The old swimming hole was about 30 yards down the creek in the woods. I know we need to have progress and things can’t stay the same, but it seems to me somethings should just be preserved. The Creek Road is still dirt, but it is now filled with people living in mobile homes and most of the land has been cleared. So how do you balance progress and preservation? Seems to me at some point, time should just stand still. Other than medical benefits, how much of it is really necessary…