My father and mother lost their first son to drowning. Given such trauma I thank God for their courage years later when their next two boys reached swimming age. We
My father and mother lost their first son to drowning. Given such trauma I thank God for their courage years later when their next two boys reached swimming age. We loved water.
Farm ponds, rivers and the deep blue of rain-filled rock quarries beckoned us. The rich blue of a quarry was cold, bracing, just right for a sultry Oklahoma day. At the bottom of one, lay a long-abandoned dump truck.
Years before, it somehow descended from the quarry ridge and now rested submerged there, still upright. What fun, inhaling deep, then diving to navigate the silent cab interior. Taking turns, we mock-drove the old truck until straining lungs obliged us aloft to draw in new oxygen. Then back down again, chasing one another through one open window and out the other.
But our favorite swimming hole by far was a pond-turned-commercial pool. A visionary at the edge of town had years earlier added diving boards, built changing-rooms and a rustic snack canteen to his oversized pond. S o o n Okmulgee’s Greenwood Lake opened for business. It seemed every kid in the county frolicked in Greenwood at some point during their youth.
A lifeguard pulled me unconscious from the Lake early one season. My headfirst dive might have fractured my neck. Thankfully not. The accident sprang from a miscalculation.
Swimming season was freshly opened. The winter months and springtime yielded little rainfall and the shoreline revealed it. Not factoring this, I assumed the lake owners had extended the shoreline – providing us a new “beach front”.
I trotted onto the platform leading to diving areas further out. Stopping short of the boards I turned, facing the water.
In previous summers the Lake here was several feet deep. Being an unfiltered pond, the cloudy waters prevented me seeing bottom. It turned out there was no new beach front at all. The waters of Greenwood were simply low, very low. I dived in.
An on-duty lifeguard was crouching above me when I came to on the grassy bank. An onlooker blurted, “That kid was lucky, looks like he’ll make it.”
Most people’s journeys hold curious mysteries. I like to think a benevolent Sovereign saw to it that a lifeguard was around – and attentive – that Summer day at Greenwood.
And further, that my Aunt Dovie’s “on-duty” presence those days following young Bobby’s drowning was the Lord’s doing as well. When my parents needed him most.
©2018 Jerry Lout
Writer-Speaker Jerry Lout schooled at Okmulgee’s Wilson Elementary, Preston High and O.S.U. Okmulgee. Jerry authored “Living With A Limp”, from which this piece is edited ( Amazon.com ). Additional narratives are posted on his blog at www.jerrylout.com. He may be reached at jerry-lout@gmail.com
