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It is now officially swimming season in the South, although it doesn’t seem like it to me. That’s probably because I didn’t go on the Fourth of July, as I always swim do. That usually marks the official beginning of swimming season for me, but that has not always been the case. Swimming season in the North is much shorter, because the temperatures don’t reach a baking 350 degrees with humidity that can drown a person, like we have down here. I considered swimming in Lake Superior once, in the U.P. of Michigan, in June. I stuck my foot in the water and it almost froze off. Did I say I “considered” swimming there?

My swimming season is much shorter these days. I also swim much less. When I was growing up, I got in the water as early as possible without turning blue or freezing into a human popsicle. Back in those days, my swim season started sometime in May and lasted until at least Labor Day. I did dive into the Tennessee River once in mid-February. That may explain why I have heart problems now! I must have had brain problems back then! My season has now been shortened down to less than a month. Growing up, I went swimming every day, if possible. I must have gone a hundred times a season. I probably haven’t gone a hundred times all total since I’ve become an adult! I guess I met my lifetime quota back then.

Since grandson Drew came along, 15 years ago, he and I have always jumped in the pool on the Fourth of July and usually on our birthdays which come at the end of July. Those two markers have become the extent of my season. Things are really fouled up this year, because I got in the pool in early June and did not get in at all on the Fourth of July. I just don’t know!

When I was a kid, a swimming pool was a place in Ivy Creek where we had dammed up the water. It had no chlorine in it, but it did have shock…especially if you jumped in too early in the season!  Sometimes the beavers provided the dam for us. A favorite swimming hole for many of the local kids back then was Patton’s Pond. The Patton’s lived up the hill from us. Their pond was actually a pretty large lake. We had two swimming spots there which included one at the pier, directly in front of their house, and one at the other end, by the dam. If people were fishing from the pier, which they often did, we couldn’t swim there, so we headed to the other spot. Each summer, usually around the end of May or first of June, we cleaned out our spot at the dam. The pond floor there was covered with seaweed or lakeweed. It grew up out of the bottom. We pulled out a large section of it each year. That required diving down like Jacque Cousteau or Lloyd Bridges. Bridges starred in a television show called Sea Hunt. We could have had a show called “Seaweed Hunt!” That was the first time I ever practiced “Catch and Release.” If we ever grabbed onto a seaweed that wiggled, and especially tried to bite, we released it as soon as we caught it!

I told Mama once (when she wouldn’t let me go swimming) that Jesus spent much time on the water. She replied, “Yes, but he wasn’t swimming. He walked on the water!” I tried that too, but ended up like Simon Peter!