99 and 44/100% Pure Memories

Summers, years ago, when my great-uncle The Bishop would open the house for two weeks, we used to bathe with Ivory in the Opequon Creek below the family home near Kearneysville, WV. Three generations pitching the soap back-and-forth and back upstream to let it float down for the others. Women first, so they could dry their hair before dinner, and then the men would go down…

 

I thought I had a photo of all of us down in the “crick”, but…

This is a watercolor of what was the swimming hole in the 1930s, before the dam washed away. When I was a kid, one of the big sycamores had fallen in the creek, and created an 8′ deep hole right off the far bank there. We had a 30′ wire-rope swing from the right bank with an old steering wheel on it.

 

Trust me, you did not want to fall short of the hole. You ended up with trunks full of shale, and scrapes to match. Strangely, nobody ever broke any limbs… couple of sprained fingers, but no breakage.

Here in America, this is Thanksgiving Day. I’m thankful for my heritage.

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