It was easy to learn to swim
in my hometown.
The Purgatory River was a cold, tiny 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.
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 outlet where
the current picked you up again.
Swimming in the old Purgatory
had a major drawback.
The numerous communities up-stream
used the river for many utilitarian purposes.
This being the case
we all learned a breaststroke
and kept our heads
out of the water.
The water was as cold as melting snow
from Stonewll could make it.
There was a heated indoor swimming pool
in the old Grand Hotel.
The hotel had been a brothel
before the troops moved to town
during the war.
To my mother what it had meant 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
for person or place.
Better we swam in
cold, contaminated
water than be close
to the glowing place of sin
So we swam in cold, dirty water
and went to the West Theater
and watched the Hollywood stars
swim in their beautiful pools.
A great discrepancy between
what is and what can be
is never tolerable
to those young enough
to dream.
Success in life wore a
lapel pin of a swimming pool.
And so it came to pass
that the lapel button grew
to be the largest pool
that would fit in my yard.
Now in my old age
when I have to clean it
I wish it were a lapel pin again.
Doug Minnis
May 6, 2010