Though the mists of time may cloud my memory and the past hide itself behind a veil I remind myself daily that just because there are clouds in the sky today does not mean there will be no sunshine tomorrow.
THE RUSTY RED WAGON
Wheels grinding out sparkling stars, the huge Interurban screeched, grunted, groaned, gathered speed and pulled away from the station above Gladstone Road, indifferent to the plight of the four weary travelers trudging slowly along, twenty feet below the high bank of the rail lines. Stopping to look up as it sped to its next destination, each imagined how wonderful it would be - if they'd had the money – to be among those passengers who just got off; one of the lucky ones clambering down the long wooden stairs leading from the burnt-red waiting room. Instead, they had walked the three miles to, and the even longer three miles back from the nearest swimming hole. Always known as “The Lake,” it had, during the two years they lived under the shadow of the rail line, taken on the aspect of some unreal mystical place, appearing occasionally in conversation, but never to be seen. Today it had become a reality.* * * * * * * * * * * *
The Journey Begins
Running back and forth through a miserable splash of water reluctantly emitted by an old piece of garden hose tied to a pole, and pretending it was a waterfall, pretending it was cold, pretending it was fun wasn’t working for the three children. It was just too hot to pretend it was when it wasn’t, and besides the game was stupid. Today everything was just plain boring.
Maggie, their equally suffering mother, watched her three youngsters gamely trying to squeeze enjoyment out of the miserable excuse for a refreshing fall of water, and decided - no matter what - today was going to be the day she had promised them weeks before. It couldn’t possibly get any hotter she reckoned, wiping at the moisture running down her forehead, so today would be the day they’d swim in “The Lake!”
Slight and thin, Maggie was by most standards small, but not by hers. “Small? I am not small!” She would assert; dressing down anyone who dared dispute it. “I am five foot and a half inches, tall!” She would point out firmly. “I am not under, I am over 5 feet, and I do not wish to hear anyone say otherwise!” All who heard got the message. Maggie’s height was definitely not a subject for debate.
A true Scott, she was feisty when riled, but generous to a fault to anyone in need. Her health, always delicate, deteriorated after the birth of her youngest, Pearl. She now tired easily. A heart condition troubled her, a legacy left to her by a measles epidemic which had swept through Scotland when she was a child. Doctors warned repeatedly against over exertion. No matter. Even though she dreaded what the walk to the lake entailed, she was going to see to it that her children would have a day they would always remember. Today there would be a proper amount of water, cold water, to play in.
“Children!” Weary, sweating faces turned up to where she stood. “Remember when I told you that on the hottest day of the summer we would have a picnic at the the lake?”
Eyes widened, in hopeful, but doubtful, expectation.
“Well, today is the day!” All six sky blue eyes opened even wider, and a triple ear splitting, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” roared from the ecstatic trio.
“Yes indeed,” she laughed, “ today you’re going to splash in real cold water, no more pretending!” The elated siblings leapt up and down like puppets on a string. The promise of a real swim was a jolt of lightning to the children. The distance? Of no consequence in their young minds.
Scampering quickly out of their woolly bathing costumes they wrapped them in the old towels they’d been using to dry themselves, and rushed into the house to change. Ready now for the journey, towels and bathing trunks in hand, they ran whooping and hollering from the yard and down the street. Excited laughter flowed freely in anticipation of what they had dreamed of all through the hot summer. Finally they were going to see, and what was even greater, they were going to swim in, “The Lake.”
Little Pearly, in all innocence asked, “Are we going on the street car, Mommy?”
Maggie looked at her, a sad smile edging her face, “The street car? No, I’m afraid not sweetheart. It’s walking for us.” Ride on a street car? How she wished. Money was not only scarce it was absent. She hadn’t seen a coin in days, and if one were to turn up it certainly would not have been used on street car fare. So, walking it was.
The hard hot pavement; the dry roads swept with yellow dust; the relentless scorching heat, all took a certain edge off their laughter. The time it was taking to reach the lake lessened the childrens initial burst of energy, but it did not lessen their anticipation.
Pearl soon began to tire. In an effort to ease the long walk for her baby Maggie hefted her up, hoping she could manage it for a short while at least, but soon put her down. It was just not possible. Tiny though Pearl was she was five years old, and would just have to manage the long walk herself, Maggie couldn’t do it for her. The heavy pounding of her heart from the effort to carry her daughter had frightened her. No, she couldn’t! Her heart; the heat; the weight of her daughter, were all too much.
“Sorry, Pearly”, she said gently to her dust streaked little girl, “Mommy can't carry you anymore, you're a mite too heavy for me”. Pearl’s look at that moment would have melted the meanest heart, but she tempered it with a dramatic sigh of resignation, and said, “It’s okay, Mommy. Your icky, sticky, anyway.” Maggie laughed, pulling her into a bear hug.
