“The past beats inside me like a second heart.” ― John Banville

We experienced so much freedom in the 70’s. As I look backwards, I remember being so much more watchful when I was a parent. Did I think the world had become more dangerous? Did the introduction of cable TV introduce too much violence and fear into our imaginations? All I know is, we were speeding up and down the highway all summer long. And no one got hurt in the making of any of these memories.

During my last years in high school when we could start to drive, and had our own gas guzzling cars, we would spend summer Saturdays about an hour up north of town on the Comal River. My small group of friends from church would ride the river on black rubber inner tubes that we rented for $5. I’m not sure where I got any money back then. In addition to the freedom we all seemed to experience, there wasn’t a lot of cash being passed out. I always had a job during high school. So when was I having all this fun?

When I look at photos of that river now, it seems very crowded and people are floating on all sorts of multicolored contraptions. All we had were black rubber inner tubes from tires. They were rented once we got up there. Then jammed into a car for a block or two before we could unpack for the day. You wanted to be sure to keep your tube wet, that rubber could burn like fire. I’m not sure we were that concerned about burning. The girls spent a lot time laying around in the sun trying to tan up with lotion all over. We hadn’t heard of SPF or sunscreen. I remember sitting in church on Sunday nights looking in the row ahead at the girls shoulders with skin peeling off.

There is a man-made concrete “chute” – you grabbed your  inner tube and hopped in the calm pool up river. Quickly you grabbed a hold of your friends who were on their own tubes as the river began to slide with more current toward that chute. Then, like a roller coaster tipping over the top, we were all sucked down those rapid waters and in just a minute, were spit out into the rocky roiling aftermath. The most important goal was to hang on to your tube. Even if you got knocked off, just quickly jump up to the surface, cough up the water and look for that empty black promise of safety bobbing away down the river.

It’s important to also jump into the river with your shoes on. An old pair of sneakers. It was almost impossible to keep one’s footing on the slick rocks below without some rubber traction. The day was ended with a squishy walk back to the car. Once I’d found my tube, I always then looked for my friends. The objective was to beat the current and float down the river together.

“Humor keeps us alive. Humor and food. Don’t forget food. You can go a week without laughing.” ― Joss Whedon

Every now and then, rarely, there were people floating past that you wanted to avoid. These were folks who were too friendly, a little wasted, and probably had tattoos. No one had tattoos back then, except the ne’er-do-wells. Most folks we passed on our float down river were friendly fellow travelers. This was back BEFORE things got really crowded, loud and inebriated as they are now. We spent the last part of the day easing down stream, talking about nothing, just making memories out of bits and pieces. Soon, the hot sun would start to move down toward the horizon and one of us would have to get back for something. We loaded up, tired, hot and burnt and drove back to the routine of growing up.

“The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.” ― L.P. Hartley

I’ve been riding on a river my whole life. Sometimes it’s been a quiet float with casual conversations and the everyday taken for granted activities that make life work so well. Loading the dishwasher and the ritual conversations with loved ones. How was your day, you always say that, I think you can do anything you decide on, didn’t you hear me the first time?

There have also been a number of rides down tumultuous rapids for me. I wish my loved ones could have been spared the fright. But we were all in this together. Even when I knew there would be an end to it, getting pulled under and that loss of control never stopped filling my lungs with terror. Everyone has rides like that because the rivers of living are made with fast waters.

“It takes a very long time to become young.” ― Pablo Picasso

I also bumped tubes with a number of characters as I ride down the river. Some have been lifechanging in all the right ways. There have been others that ended up flipping my tube over and turning my life upside down and under water. As I floated down the river, some of these dangerous people were unavoidable. Sometimes I was just too busy to notice. There have been times when I’ve gotten really wet in the river even when I thought the rapids were behind me.

I’ll never forget those summers on the Comal. I also spent my childhood growing up camping with extended family on the Llano River. Never drowning but coming close. We fished, swam and played until we dropped. No one’s mom really knew what was going on. No one got snakebit, that I remember.

Here I am, still floating on down the river of life. I haven’t lost my tube. I’ve still got loved ones around me. Fast water is surely around the next bend. I just keep telling myself, hang on to your tube and keep your shoes on. 

“You don’t drown by falling in the water; you drown by staying there.” ― Edwin Louis Cole