It’s strange what we remember, and how distant memories can surprise us. A friend said something to me the other day and immediately reminded me of when I was eleven and found The Thing. It looked like a cross between an avocado and a pine cone, crosshatched with deep grooves and covered with the soft gray-green fur of an unripe peach, so of course I picked it up and took it home where it went into my collection that included a dead June bug, dried staghorn lichen, smoky quartz crystals, and other oddities. The Thing was the only item I couldn’t identify. I could have asked someone, or even just looked around the place where I found it for some clue to its identity, but I liked the mystery; it was earthy yet otherworldly.
Besides I’d found it in the grass outside the pool we went to. I’m not sure why I even saw it since most days when we went to the pool I was either too interested in getting into the water or too tired from a day spent in the water to notice anything else.
We went to a place called The Dolphin Club which seemed odd because there are no dolphins in Tennessee, but maybe The Catfish Club was already taken, The Bass Club would have sounded too much like a music place, and The Crappie Club just wouldn’t sound right. It wasn’t really a “club” either, but a big plus-sign shaped pool surrounded by concrete and a fence with a single cinderblock building that housed the office and changing rooms. Nearby there were a couple of crumbling tennis courts, a few trees, and a rock wall that ran along the road, but beyond that nothing but empty fields. It seemed like we spent most of the hottest days of summer there, maybe because there wasn’t much else to do. I was even on the swim team. I don’t remember being asked if I wanted to join the swim team, or even wanting to join the swim team. It was just something that happened and I went along because there wasn’t much else to do, though it meant getting up early and, instead of easing into the pool, jumping right in to chilly water, twisting my body around as bubbles floated up around me. I always had this image being transformed into a humpback whale, even though you’re even less likely to find those in Tennessee than dolphins.
The strange thing about me being on the swim team is that, even though I liked to swim, I wasn’t that strong of a swimmer. I couldn’t dive worth a damn either, only do a full-body flop off the starting blocks. But The Dolphin Club, cheap and a little rundown and out in the middle of nowhere, wasn’t as choosy as some of our competitors, bigger places that really were clubs, with indoor pools, hot tubs, and racquetball courts. I was also the only kid at The Dolphin Club who’d mastered the butterfly stroke. I was last in every competition but at least I had perfect form.
Then there was the swim team’s Fourth of July party, the only time I got to swim after dark, when underwater lights came on, the pool glowed aqua, and the sun overhead was replaced by stars, perhaps even the moon. As July drifted into the dog days of August and pool attendance dropped off the lifeguards would relax and we could throw the lounge chairs into the deep end, swim down, and stretch out in them as long as we could hold our breath. By summer’s end I could go from one end of the pool to the other without surfacing.
So with not a lot going on I forgot about The Thing. Except for the quartz crystals which I moved to my room the other specimens were thrown out into the yard. The Thing, for some reason, stayed on a shelf in the basement where I’d pass by it occasionally and wonder what it was before I turned away to something more important, like peeling a golf ball to find out what was inside. Its mystery would only be solved three years later when my parents planted a magnolia tree in the front yard. In the spring it produced creamy white blooms that dropped away, turning to leather, and at the start of summer the branches were covered with Things, each one studded with crimson seeds.
The greatest gift my parents bestowed upon me during my upbringing was the freedom to explore. I vividly recall being in third grade, given the simple instruction to be home by dinner and to call from whichever friend’s house I happened to visit. As a child, I cherished a small wooden box where I stored all the curious treasures I found. Just last year, my mother presented me with that box once more. Inside, I discovered my very first teddy bear, along with a second one I received when I was eight years old. Truly, the best things in life are always free.
Thomas Slatin recently posted…The Muses Companion – July 12, 2024
Being given that box as an adult really is a wonderful thing, almost as good as having it as a child. Also I hope I didn’t make it sound like my own childhood was too restricted. I had plenty of time and space to explore too. The vacant lot I mentioned where I found the crystals, as well as other natural oddities, was a magical place. My dog and I spent hours exploring it. Sadly it’s all been turned into condominiums now.
This brings back similar memories for me. Once, as a kid, I was dropped off at the Y to start taking gymnastics, but my parents got the time wrong so for the next several weeks, I did square dancing. I didn’t like it, wasn’t good at it, but hey, it was better than sitting around at home!
mydangblog recently posted…It’s Puzzling, Isn’t It?
Now that really takes me back–it seems like there was kind of a square dancing fad in the ’70’s because we had to do it some at school. I think I would have said something, or maybe run away, rather than endure even one do-si-do.
A beautifully written post, Chris, and a summer treasure.
I treasure your comments, Ann.