Spring 2023. Different than springs we have known for many
years.
In April, you could have walked out and seen the grader blade and a two-bottom plow. Do you see it in June?
Over eleven inches of rain from late May through mid-June. Probably more than we got in the last two summers combined.
Resulting in:
Not too mention this:
Saturday of Memorial Day weekend.
They came in
droves. 502 was the official count.
The new swimming
pool in Limon finally opened. Its first
projected completion date was summer of 2022.
2020 and the
COVID plague stuck its ugly paw into that blue print. Supply issues for materials and equipment
caused delays. Original concrete failed
to pass inspection. Some parts of the
facility had to be removed and repoured.
A postponed
completion date of Labor Day of 2022 didn’t get much of a foothold before those
in charge of building the pool punted and set the date for the traditional
opening day, Saturday of Memorial Day weekend, 2023.
This date stuck,
and the new pool opened to plenty of fanfare.
New pool, free entry, free towels for the first 100 , free
hamburgers. What else could a person ask
for?
Better weather,
for one. High in the mid-sixties with a cooling breeze from
the south put the damper on things for
the older folks. That was okay. It was a day for kids, anyway.
Among the 502 were
daughter Number Two and grandkids, who got there before opening time of 11
a.m., but were way too far back in the line of swimmers to benefit from the
free towel giveaway.
They did get
through the hamburger line in good shape.
They followed that with a trip to the shaved ice trailer, which wasn’t
free. It wasn’t too cold for shaved ice.
I’ll bet it was a profitable day for
that business. I was quite thankful that
I wasn’t the vendor.
Among the
lowlights, the mandatory 10-minute break every hour. Imagine crawling out of the warm pool to
expose yourself to a 15-mile-per-hour breeze in the mid-sixties.
Oh well.
They were used to it. In order to
take advantage of the curlicue slide, they had to walk up a spiral stairway,
which was often half full of would-be sliders braving the breeze as they waited
their turn at the top.
The grandkids
endured until 5 p.m., a deadline established by parent. They probably would have lasted until the 6
p.m. closing time if they had their druthers.
The Goodwife and
I endured an hour of it. We stood in the
breeze for about half of that hour until some seats opened up. As we observed the “swimmers” (trying to
scale the climbing wall or going down the water slide), we were about as
inclined to take a dip as to endure a root canal.
Of course, it all reminded me of other opening pool days. I didn’t make many, if any. I do remember when Cousin Corky was the head lifeguard. It was probably after his hitch in the army when he returned to Limon and served the city under Uncle Jerry’s time as city manager.
We always spent
one day of Memorial Day weekend at Aunt Helen’s with the other aunties, who
gathered to go pay respect to their parents in Pershing Memorial Cemetery. Cousin Corky and his new girlfriend came home from the pool on a cool, cloudy, windy
day which was shortened by the appearance of a gusty cold front with some
lightning that made closing the pool mandatory.
To his father’s
question, Corky replied that there were still a dozen kids in the pool when he
declared it closed. His girlfriend
chipped in with, “A dozen IDIOTS!” She
was chilled to the bone.
“Idiot” and
swimming didn’t go together to my juvenile mind. It makes perfect sense now.
The other
“opening day” may not have been the actual opening day, but it was the first
time I got to go swimming in the new pool in Limon.
Jimmy Lundy
insisted that he take us to the new pool.
That was more than sixty years ago.
How exciting! As we followed the
progress of the construction of Limon’s first pool, the thought that I might
actually go swimming in it never really entered my mind.
So when Jimmy
announced that we were going, it was beyond believable. Contributing to the skepticism was a lack of
any kind of swimming suit.
For us, swimming
depended on enough rain to fill the dam with muddy water. Then we wore our underwear or maybe a pair of
old raggedy cut-off jeans. While the
raggedy jeans might be all the rage today, they certainly needn’t think of
applying for the job in those days.
Jimmy to the
rescue again. He had some old trunks
that he had outgrown.
There was still a
slight problem. None of them fit
me. The smallest trunks sagged and
bagged.
No matter. I wasn’t out to win a style show. I just wanted to go swimming in a real live
pool that didn’t double as a stock tank for thirsty cattle. Or a place for thistles to grow and become
hidden in the muddy water when the dam filled.
Jimmy picked us
up in his Nash Rambler station wagon and we went to the pool. What I remember is that when I went to get
out of the pool by hoisting myself up on the deck with my arms, my too-large
trunks would slip down. I could not correct
the situation until I was out of the water and on the deck.
By then it was
too late. My swimwear deficiency was
exposed. Along with other things. It was an early indication that I would some
day take a crack at being a plumber.
I really wasn’t
aware of the problem until some of my fellow swimmers, none of whom I knew,
were aware of my problem. I heard a kid
say to his buddies that they should watch me get out of the pool. When I did exit the pool, they snickered,
loudly enough for me to hear. It didn’t
take long to figure out what was funny.
At that age,
being the butt of a joke didn’t outrank my enthusiasm for swimming. It would take layers of age and other
concerns to do that.
We did get
swimming trunks that fit after that first dip, and we went on to spend many
hours in the pool while Mom was giving piano lessons on a summer afternoon. Among memorable birthday gifts I got as a kid
are a mask and flippers that gave swimming another dimension. A
rite of passage was passing the test so you could cross the rope into the deep
end of the pool.
On this Saturday
of Memorial Day weekend 2023, as I sat by the pool fully dressed and hoping the
sun would come back, the wind blew some memories my way.
