CRUMBS OF CANDOR: The Ol’ Swimmin’ Hole

Published 6:00 pm Monday, March 28, 2022

When just a wee kid in my first year of school and growing up in the holler, every day I passed one of the best kept secrets in the area going to and from school, the post office or the store. Actually, it was discovered quite accidentally.

Walking with my cousin up the holler toward home, the stillness was interrupted by far off hoots and guffaws and squeals of delight. Our curiosity piqued, so we followed the sounds. When close enough to hear the water tumbling downstream over the big rocks, we garnered our first glimpse of what was happening.

Recognizing some of the voices of other cousins — all boys, by the way — we drew the lush, leafy jungle of branches back enough to get a better view. They had built a wall opposite the waterfall by piling rocks high enough to create a pool. We imagined them filling in the gaps with smaller rocks and sticks to keep the water inside their swimmin’ hole.

We watched for a bit before letting out audible gasps when several of the boys scrambled up onto the large rocks to jump into the deep end. They were stark naked! Neither of us had ever witnessed such a site before.

We were so shocked that apparently our gasps were more than just a little audible. One of the boys spied us spying on them and began yelling at the others and us simultaneously. It was difficult to discern which of us were more startled — we innocent young girls or the large group of male cousins as they dove back into the water at world championship speeds.

We instinctively and immediately covered our faces with our hands and turned our backs on the scene before us. They apparently gathered their britches and other clothing in record time, as they managed to beat us up the path, jumping out in front of us, scaring the bejeebers out of us to boot.

In no uncertain terms, we were sworn to secrecy as to what we witnessed as they threatened us mightily with great bodily harm as well if we told. It sent us on a dead run the rest of the way to my house where we quickly entered the chicken coup underneath the front porch and commenced our play — never breathing a word to a living soul, until I just now spilled the beans.

The boys continued to enjoy their swim breaks, and we never ventured down that path again. Besides neither of us could swim, and if the boys hadn’t already scared us enough, the thought of drowning did.

Lesson learned!

My husband shared this about his own swimmin’ hole, though it was coed. Performing a similar task of building a dam of sorts in a wide spot in the local branch that ran through adjoining properties in a small woods, they created their own local paradise.

In the days of pre-air conditioning, one can imagine what a retreat from the sweltering heat of summer it was to splash and play in the murky water.

They even had a name for it and painted up a sign to stake their claim on the spot. It read, “Bare A$$ Beach,” though there remains serious doubts as to whether they spelled the first or last word correctly.

Word got out, and kids rode bicycles from several miles away to enjoy this respite — but only after their daily chores had been completed.

Oh, the carefree days of summer before technology made its corrupt way to the scene of childhood.

Hours were whiled away watching the clouds change shapes and identifying what only the imagination could conceive. Or days spent searching for four-leaf clovers, catching minnows or hunting rocks in creek bottoms.

Those were the days when a rather ordinary stick had the ability to become a rifle, a walking cane, a sword, a spear and more — when jewelry was created from tiny clover blossoms by the girls while the boys sucked the nectar from the tiny petals.

Those were the days when children relished stumbling upon the sweet surprise of a small patch of wild strawberries, blueberries, raspberries or blackberries. Those were the days when they hastily gathered wild mushrooms (having been taught which ones were edible from the cradle) to bring home for mother to cook with their supper, or they stalked the wild asparagus or gathered any number of other edibles including bullfrogs. Their legs are delicious and taste like chicken.

Oh, what children today are missing! Technology cannot compare with the joys of discovery in nature and the ability to daydream.

Perhaps the best part and the most idyllic were simply living those early years in a state of innocence.