Jul 22 2008
Swimming in the creek
When I was young girl growing up in the country we did not go swimming in a pool. We went swimming in the local creek. The best part of the creek to swim in was right under the bridge. This area was deep enough for swimming but not so deep to be dangerous. Huge boulders lined the banks for several yards. Every Saturday we would take a watermelon, sandwiches alone with a gallon jar of lemonade and head to the creek. We would take a break from swimming to catch crawfish, minnows, and baby frogs. Some days we would get lucky and find a turtle or have an unlucky day and find a water moccasin. Our friends, relatives, and neighbors would be there if the men did not have to work that day. A day at the creek was a lot more than just a day of swimming. It was also a day of rest, friends and a reward for a week of hard work.
One day a truck pulled up to the creek and out jumped two teenage boys that none of us had ever met before. Everyone introduced themselves to the boys and invited them to have some food and drink. One boy accepted a sandwich and sat down on the rock to eat. The other brother walked up onto the bridge and climbed over the rail. We all knew he planned to jump or dive off the bridge and begged him not to. We tried to tell him that the boulders jutted out under the water and he would land on the rock. As my Dad and some of the other men rushed up the bank to grab the boy he dove into the water. When the men pulled the boy out of the water we could see he had severe head and facial injuries.
The men helped place the boy in the back of the truck and his brother raced to the hospital. Some of the men followed the brothers to the hospital to offer what support they could. Several hours later they returned to give us the news. The boy had lost an eye and had a cracked skull. After the boy was released from the hospital he alone with his brother became a part of our group at the creek. There were no more dives off the bridge after that.
