SWIMMIN'

Swimmin' in Wright City meant jumpin' in Wright's Branch or in someone's stock pond.

Bathin' suits weres synonymous with birthday suits for two reasons:

1. We never owned no dang "bathing suits"

2. Coming home with wet clothes was the first clue to our mom's that we had been swimmin' and that would earn an immediate lecture (took me a while to realize we was being snitched off by the way our hair looked anyway?)

Me and Frank and Leo went swimmin' one time in one of the biggest ponds in our world (nekkid of course). We swam across it as many times as one could imagine without any thought because we were young, it was summer, an well, we could.

We were swimmin' like otters about the time that Frank's teenage sister drove up and got out of her yellow 1962 Chevy Nova wearing them pink "peddle pushers", the white shirt, and the pink (huge) bow in her long, full brown hair (not that I actually "noticed"). OK, I was kinda noticin' (at 12 years old?)

We told Linda to leave cuz we wuz nekkid. Linda dared us to come out the water anyway (I'm thinkin' she was lookin' fer a good laugh?)

Course we turned to pure "chicken" (more like "chicks) and started swimmin' to the opposite side of the pond.

Frank and Leo did just fine as we had done this bout 40 times that day.

Frankie, for the first time in his life, totally and absolutely got the "cramps" to the extent that I could not swim a stroke. I was in water over my head, doubled over, and could not begin to do more than flounder.

As I called for help, Frank just laughed at my "joke".

Leo, on the other hand, sensed my true distress and swam out to pull me to shallow water.

Trust the ole ranch hand, if Leo had not pulled me to safety that day, the Tin Star Ranch Hand blog (feeble and useless as it is) would have never existed and I would be mere dust in the bonds of earth awaiting judgement day.

Leo, if you are still alive, thank you sincerely for the fact that I am still alive, because of you.