Saga of Swimming Holes
It was easy to learn to swim
in my hometown.
The Purgatory River was a tiny, cold stream
running through town.
Just west of the Animas Street Bridge,
a large concrete slab had been placed
to keep the river in its bed.
The shallow stream hit this barrier
and a hole was formed.
It was not a deep hole;
even 10-year-old boys could stand
on the bottom.
To learn to swim, one entered
the water above the hole
and let the swift current
carry you to the hole where
you paddled like mad
to the shallow outlet where
the current picked you up again.
Swimming in the old Purgatory
had a major drawback.
Numerous communities up-stream
used the river for sewage disposal.
This being the case
we all learned a breaststroke
and kept our heads
out of the water.
There was a heated indoor swimming pool
in the old Grand Hotel.
The hotel had been a brothel
before the military moved to town
during WWII.
To my mother what it had been was as
permanent a damning
as that delivered to the scarlet women
who used to work there.
There are some things for which
there was no redemption.
Better that we swam in
cold, contaminated
water than be warm
in the place of sin.
So we swam in cold, dirty water,
went to the West Theater
and watched the Hollywood stars
swim in their beautiful heated pools.
Success in life became a
lapel pin of a swimming pool.
Now in my old age
when I have a pool
I have to clean it.
I wish it were a small
lapel pin again.
Doug Minnis
May 6, 2010 - revised June 19,2010