Water, Child's Play

My earliest memories are ones  involving water!  Water, the basic ingredient off life; it is woven deep into our souls.  I clearly remember as if it was just this past week. I was four or five years old playing outside behind our house in the alley, by myself after a wet spring snow.  The snow, perhaps eight inches deep, was giving up it's icy crystal peaks to cold flowing fingers of little rivers, moving down the gentle slope of the concrete pavement.  I could smell the water!  "Water is tasteless and orderless" it is said of it's nature.  Well I could smell it!  It smelled like the essence of all life, I could taste it without touching it to my tongue; I felt the cold dampness against my cheeks!  I just watched the ripples in the little rivers shimmering their way to some other place, a distant unknown destination.  It was hypnotic; time did not exist.

My Dad, Rudy, had an older sister that lived in Lakewood Colorado, a western suburb of Denver.  Aunt Dee, her husband Less, my mother Frances with brother Glen, along with cousins Lynn, Gordon, Jerry and Lauren would all pile in the back of Less and Dee's 1941 Chevy, to travel which seemed like a very long drive to Eldorado Springs; likely around twenty miles.  The Chevy was equipped to carry all the kids in the back.  The back seat had been removed and a piece of plywood had been neatly tailored to fit clear back into the trunk area!  Complete with an empty one pound coffee can should someone have to pee before reaching our destination; I never remember the can being used!

Eldorado Springs is a resort that dates back to 1905.  http://www.eldoradosprings.com/index.php?action=resorthistory  We would spend a day there swimming.  The very best of times with my brother and cousins.  The water, us all in the pool together, bound us together, it was a special spiritual glue.  Together, splashing, laughing--screaming!  I now ask, why do we not do this today?  After swimming we would venture up the canyon to picnic.  South Boulder Creek runs through Eldorado Canyon.  Barefooted we would gather rocks and try to dam the creek, trying our very best to build a lake and stop the water's flow.  We never did stop the water!  We did get some fairly good size pools however!  The water always won out, pushing our rocks aside.  With freezing water logged feet we would enjoy our picnic, which would frequently include cold fried chicken.

Brother Glen and I use to take baths together.  I was ten, he was almost three years younger; we would play in the tub until our fingers wrinkled up like a prunes!  One of are favorite toys, we each had one, was a plastic submarine, WWII vintage, complete with torpedoes that you could push into a spring loaded torpedo shaft.  When triggering the torpedoess you could shoot at the other sub or aim it straight up into the bathroom skylight, many times hitting the frosted wired glass. Entertainment was cheap, hours had no meaning--what else would one rather be doing?

Watching your Mother, Aunt or Grandma bathing the newest baby that came into the family; in a bassinet or even the kitchen sink; was a time when the conversation was easy--so easy there may have been only the sound of the baby trying out it's first giggle or laugh.  Sitting in the soapy water, baby's legs would not be completely covered--the smooth tight skin would glow with the wetness from the splashes.

Doing the dishes with foaming white suds, watching an old wringer washer or newer front loader pushing the water through the fabric--it was cathartic.

Are young children today still brought to such simple ecstasy by our life's force liquid?  I will venture a guess that the are; should we take a few minutes and observe them in their play.