While in my hometown of Springville for a few weeks, I passed the city park and noticed a new water fountain, stream and splash pad filled with kids running around and playing in the squirting sprinklers.
It reminded me of my summers at Park-Ro-She swimming pool on the north end of Main Street.
My brother and I walked up to Main Street from our house to catch a school bus to the pool for summer swimming lessons.
When we were older and better swimmers, we rode our stingray bikes there every day and spent our summer days jumping off the diving boards, racing in the pool, playing follow the leader, Marco Polo and performing astounding flips and our share of belly flops off the diving boards.
It seemed like everybody in town was there every day. We played and swam until we were hungry; pedaled home for lunch, and went back until dinnertime.
Those were the days of no sunscreen too, so we were the pale kids with perpetual sunburns, freckles and plenty of blisters.
While reveling in my Park-Ro-She memories, I remembered when I was in middle school and my friend manipulated me into going to a boy-girl party.
I did everything I could to get out of going, but when she told me she had set it all up, and that if I didn’t meet the boy at the corner by her house and walk with him to the party, it would hurt his feelings.
Even though I would have been happier at the pool, hopelessly waiting for my freckles to merge into a tan, I went.
When I got to the corner to meet the boy, the first thing he said was, “Here.” Then he handed me a ring and grabbed hold of my hand like we were an official couple.
When I got to the corner to meet the boy, the first thing he said was, “Here.” Then he handed me a ring and grabbed hold of my hand like we were an official couple.
I pulled my hand away and looked at the ring, wondering where he got the idea that walking with me to a party meant I would wear his ring and hold his hand.
I pulled my hand away and looked at the ring, wondering where he got the idea that walking with me to a party meant I would wear his ring and hold his hand.
The first thing on the party agenda was to play the boxed version of We lost, of course, because we didn’t know anything about each other.
The first thing on the party agenda was to play the boxed version of The Newlywed Game. We lost, of course, because we didn’t know anything about each other.
Later they turned off all the lights and everyone paired up and went into different dark corners of her house. I pretended I was sick and said I had to go home.
The next day, when I was back at Park-Ro-She, I jumped off the high dive, slipped off the ring, and happily watched it sink to the bottom of the pool.
“Goodbye, boyfriend!”
I felt relieved to be free of the burden of a boyfriend I never wanted in the first place.
Thinking she was doing me a favor, a misguided friend found it and brought it back to me.
“I don’t want that ring,” I said. “I’m trying to break up with him.”
“You can’t break up with him by just losing his ring,” she said. “You have to give it back and tell him you are not going out with him anymore.”
“Fine,” I said, handing her the ring. “You tell him for me.”
My first relationship ended less than 24 hours after it started.
When I told my Mom about the break-up, she said, “Well, I don’t blame you a bit. You don’t need to be bothered with that falderal at your age.”
During my time in my old hometown, I couldn’t help thinking about the swimming pool, the drive-in movie theater, the A&W, the stingray bikes, and Peay’s Market.
All of those places are gone now, but the summer memories they gave me will last forever.
Cute – Reminds me of the Wonder Years.