Saturday, August 7, 2010

SIXTY-Hometowns & Favorite Swimming Holes

Desota Falls, Alabama (Picture by Christi Spatz 2010)

I call Henagar, Alabama home, even though I only lived there for four years.  I was born at Fort Payne, Alabama, though my family lived in Rome, Georgia, Fyfee, Alabama then we moved to Rossville, Georgia, which is close to Chattanooga, Tennessee. My dad dug wells so we traveled around a lot, it was difficult to have best friends as just when I began to know someone, we up and moved.  So I got into the habit of not really becoming close to anyone for fear we'd move again.  That is until we finally landed at Henagar, Alabama.  Here I became friends with two girls, but particularly with Martha.  We talked on the phone, went to each others house and were best friends at school, sharing a lot of the same classes.  So I always think of Henagar as my hometown. The place where I grew up and became an adult.  

I've met people from all over the world, and I found that I love the south, Alabama in particular.  As I sit here typing, I hear the katydids making their night sounds.  I know if I open my door and step outside, it will be a hot and sultry night. If I go out on my deck, above the sound of the katydids, I'll hear the cars off in the distance, maybe even hear the radio of a passing car.  As I sit in a deck chair, I can lean my head back and see stars.  Occasionally, a plane will soar overhead, the roar of the engines taking people to new places or back home.  I'm sure most everyone calls the place where they have their fondest memories home. 

I've visited Desota Falls shown in the picture above.  I've never swam there, but there are other places where we did wade and splash.  I remember spending summers at my grandparents where me, my brother and cousins would walk down to this creek close to their house.  The water was so cold and clear you could see the gravel at the bottom of the creekbed, the gravel looked like speckled pinto beans with nuggets of white rocks mixed in. We never had swimsuits, we'd just jump in with our shorts on. By the time we walked home our clothes would be dry. I can't imagine, now, jumping so carefree into a creek.  I'd first want to make sure there were no snakes.  I miss that freedom of trying anything without fear and worry of what might happen.  


Journaling Woman said...

I remember the days of swimming in the creeks and river where I grew up. I had one swimsuit but most of the time we wore old clothes. The river was colder in the shaded areas and warmer in the sun. Rocks hurt the feet, but they became tough. Crawdads chased you if you bugged them. Those were the days!!!!

I may have to blog about swimming on my rural blog.

Great post.


Agnes said...

What a lovely post Judy. I miss that freedom too.