The Watering Hole

This post isn't so much about one watering hole in particular, but it is about my affinity towards water as a little kid. I was like a little divining rod with legs. If there was water I would find it. I can't uniquely remember all of the times that I came home soaking wet, so I'll just record a few of them in no particular order.

One of my favorite things to do was run through the puddles on the playground. My elementary school had big fields of grass that were dead 90% or the year, but the school still watered them occasionally using a flood irrigation method. We weren't allowed to get in the water, but that didn't seem to stop me... ever. I thought that I could run through the water and by running really fast and moving my off foot to avoid splashes I wouldn't get wet at all. It seemed to me like it worked great, but my mom wasn't very happy when I came home with soaked shoes. I remember the shoes being crunchy the next morning when it was time to put them on for school. Occasionally I got a little more than my shoes wet. I remember one time when it was raining a lot (I think 1993) and the rivers were flooding and stuff. They dug trenches along the front of the school to collect the water and keep it from flowing into the classrooms. Those ditches filled up and I remember playing in the water in the ditches.

Let's see... I remember playing with a fountain at the fairgrounds in Downey. There was drinking fountain (sort of) that pointed straight up and the water flow was controlled by a valve with a lever. You could make a water bottle rocket by putting a bottle on it and then opening the lever wide open. The bottle would fill with water and the pressure would cause the bottle to go way up in the air and then we would try to catch it. Seems like if you weren't any good at catching you could still run around with your hands in the air and get wet.

I remember many hours spent doing stuff that was authorized-get-wet-fun too. I remember running through the sprinklers, playing at Bear Lake, messing around in Cottonwood Wash, homemade slip'n'slide on the lawn in back of the church, and swimming lessons at the local public pool. It's a good thing I can swim!

I just remembered another thing that seemed to get me wet a lot. When we would visit the grandparents and cousins in the Gila Valley there always was a ditch full of irrigation water somewhere. My cousins and I would always take turns ditch running--an activity where you hop back and forth from one side of a cement ditch to the other and work your way down the ditch. This almost always ended  up with somebody getting wet and then the rest of us being jealous and "accidentally" getting wet too.

Sometimes it's just fun to play in the water.

Sweet Forgiveness

When I was little I had a hispanic friend that I played with at recess in kindergarden. After that year his family moved away for a couple of years, or at least he went to different school. In 3rd grade he moved back and he was big. I was tall, but he was tall and big. He and I had different groups of friends, but we were both athletic. One of the games that we liked to play at recess was smear-the-queer. As a little kid I had a habit of letting my fingernails grow too long before I'd clip them. Well, it was a hot day and we were playing the game (someone has a foot ball and everyone tries to tackle them). He had the ball and I was going for a horse collar tackle. My nail scratched the back of his neck and I saw the blood start as sweat dripped into the open wound. He shrieked in pain, threw down the ball, and turned with anger in his eyes towards me. The crowd started to chant, "fight, fight, fight..." and I heard someone say, "you're dead." I took off running, he chased me and the crowd followed. At one point he was close enough to throw the football and hit my legs. I ended up running for the rest of the break and was glad to hear the bell sound so that I could escape to class. I had to watch my back the rest of the day.

That night I was back at the school for some sort of parent teacher night thing. My mom was meeting with my little sister and her kindergarden teacher and I was waiting outside in the dark. Suddenly, my worst feared enemy was at my side! He said, "Hey, are we cool?" and I felt so relieved. I said, "yeah, we're cool" and then he offered me some of the candy he was eating. It was awesome to be forgiven like that. I learned a valuable lesson and gained a valuable friend.

Wiener Roast

One of my favorite extended family activities was, and still is, having a wiener roast in Idaho. In grandpa's back yard is a fire ring surrounded by beautiful grass and a couple of benches. There are trees with tree houses and rolling hills around that lead to gorgeous mountain skylines. It is cool in the evenings and everyone gathers round the fire to cook dinner. Yum, hot dogs and s'mores. Good food and good company. One of the few memories I have of my great grandpa (one of the ones I'm named after) is of having a wiener roast in his back yard. He had a fireplace built up with a chimney and there were big trees around the yard. I remember going down the back stairs to the basement where there was a throne surrounded by a royal purple curtain and a table with an old hand crank wheat mill attached to it. Those where the days.

We still have wiener roasts as often as possible when we're in Idaho. It's so wonderful and I'm sure that this post doesn't convey the feelings and memories that I cherish and associate with such occasions.