Memories

In my country a warm summer is not very long and starts later than here in N.C. As a child it was the  most exciting thing to experience, go swimming.  In May we would try to shed our long stockings and have knee highs, or even short socks, if Mom did not catch us rolling down our long stockings.  Daily we watched the skies and hoped for more and warmer sun.  Come June, there were those days that became warm enough to go to the open air pool, the only place to go. When younger, Mom had to take me, and I had to fit my hopes into her work schedule. We would go to the streetcar stop, waiting for the #2 Streetcar, which would get us to the end stop where the pool was. There was a long line at the ticket counter, and finally we were inside, went to the dressing area, stuffed our clothes into the bags, and then went outside to the pool, which was crowded.  But Mom made sure I was not accosted. Once, when a bully pushed me into the low end of pool, she came to my rescue giving the boy a dressing down.  I learned to swim with a aid of a metal oblong canister, metal, light weight, chained around my waist, after Mom had taught me the basic swim move of a breast stroke. Eventually I dared to jump off 1 meter diving board. And now I was a swimmer.  After I reached about 10 yrs I was allowed to go by myself and with girl friend to the pool.  It was grand.  But the season was short, and even in June, July and August there were many rain days when we could not go. In September it was usually too cool and the pool closed. 
As an older teenager, having joined the Life Guard Club, we spent many summer hours at another open air pool, which at that time was really only a backwater of the Rhine River, separated from the river by a dam. And we often swam in the Rhine River, crossing to the other side. That required to gauge the speed of the river's flow, and walking up-river on our side, before going in to cross, so that we could come out opposite our usual sunning spot on our side.  The same on our return trip, walking back upstream, to come back out where we needed to. If we overshot, we had to walk back to our pool area on our side also.
Some of the guys would swim up to the low floating cargo tenders, towed by tugboats, often three of them behind a tug. And the guys would climb up on the tenders, and further upstream jump back in and swim back to the pool area of the river. I never did, it was way too dangerous for my taste. 
But even today, on a warm sunny day, when I smell the water of a lake or river it makes me think of those wonderful, exciting years of having the special treat in our short summers of swimming.