Swimming

When we were tadpoles we always insisted on swimming on Memorial Day. It marked the traditional beginning of the summer season and the whole clan on Mama's side of the family spent the weekend opening up camps up on Caroga Lake.

Then sometime on the day itself us young 'uns begged and pestered and nagged and annoyed until someone took us over to East Caroga beach for a swim.

I do NOT remember being cold on those magical, if slow-moving weekends way back when.

I do remember aunts and uncles who aren't all that much older than we are joining us for all sorts of horse play and the wondrous accomplishment of finally swimming out to the floating dock and hauling out like a seal on the beach.

I do remember doing the whole whining thing in reverse when it was time to return to the cabin.....I do NOT remember being cold.

I remember building elaborate miniature forts and farms and fences and fields with twigs and slabs of bark that took up half the clearing around grandma and grandpa's cabin... They were amazing places with little houses snugged up under the roots of the trees and roads from the campfire to the wood pile and beyond. Our toy dime store horses and cows and trucks and cars set them off to perfection.

I remember a certain fine uncle, who bent his dignity to play with us little kids, just for that weekend.

He had the amazing magic of firecrackers. After the forts were all built and played with until the shine wore off he got them out of wherever he hid them so the little kids wouldn't find them.

While we watched in goose bumpy anticipation, from the windows in the main room of the cabin...that was as close as we were allowed to get...he set his charges and lit his fuses and blew them all up KABAM!

I do NOT remember being cold.

So take THAT Global Warming. Anybody who goes swimming this weekend is either nuts or at the Y. Brrrrr.......