Growing up in the Sierra Nevadas, we had to be creative about simple things like swimming. There were not in close public swimming pools. As I remember it, the closest one was pretty creepy. There was green moss growing on the bottom of a concrete pool. I wasn't much into sliding into the concrete pond.
What we did have was a gravel pit with nice clean naturally filtered water. The bottom was smooth pebbles and the water fresh. My dad would run us kids over there in his '59 VW. As I remember it, my sister was not much of a swimmer. Considering she became one of the first female park rangers in the US, seems a bit of a contridiction.
Anyway, the story is told that my sister was coaxed into a swim. My brother or I may have pushed her in. I don't know. We weren't very tolerant of Lou Lou Belle. Sorry sis. Just had to throw the nickname in there. Ha!
She went under and started taking on water. I don't know how many times she went under, but they say it was a miracle she survived. I just wonder how many times God let's us go under before He steps in and saves us. Any thoughts?
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