Back in my growing up days in Nickerson, it was hot! Damned hot as a matter of fact. And the humidity was high, which did not help at all. Colorado is dry. In Colorado I can shower and hang my towel on the hook and it will be dry in just a couple hours. Not so in Kansas. Not only was the towel still damp the next day, but it was starting to have a sour smell. By day 3 it was mildewed. Nasty stuff.
To survive the heat, we wore a minimum of clothes and tried to stay in the shade of a tree. Being in the house was not much better, because air conditioning was pretty much non-existent. Nickerson had no swimming pool as I recall and if they did we would not have been able to afford it. So we were left with the Arkansas River, Cow Creek, Bull Creek and Vincent's Sand Pit. Mummy's had a sand pit on the other end of town, but we were not allowed in there. It was a functioning business and Vincent's was not. And Vincent's was within walking distance. Hey! I just remembered, there was a sand pit about 3 blocks from the house. I do not recall whether it was a working pit or not, but it seems way back in my little mind that the owners child had fallen in and drowned, so it was not open any more. (This may or may not be true because my 70 years prior memories tend to become rather distorted.)
Back to Vincent's Sand Pit. I have been deathly afraid of water my entire life. I do not know why, only that I was and still am. (I did go many years back to the YWCA heated pool and took swimming lessons so if I were to fall in I would know to roll over and relax and float until some friendly passerby could rescue me. Hopefully!) Consequently, I did not swim in the sand pit and to my clearest memory, I only visited it once. It seems it was about a mile or so from the house and beyond the cemetery. I recall running barefoot down the road which was very sandy and the sand was very hot! Jake rode his bike and I ran behind.
Vincent's Sand Pit was also a favorite fishing spot. It must be a lot like Beemer Lake in Lakin, Kansas. Usually the fishermen came later in the day or very early in the morning. Fish rarely bite in the heat of the day. We had a pint jar half full with water and a pop bottle suspended upside down so the opening just touched the water. When the water was sucked up it the neck of the bottle, it meant the fish were biting. If it was not raised, you might as well stay home. When I married Kenneth we fished a lot, so I set one of those on the window sill in the kitchen. When he asked me what that was for, I told him. It was then I learned that it was actually a crude barometer and I could save myself a lot of watchin if I just walked over and looked at the barometer on the wall! Duh!
As we set here, gripped in a heat wave, I flash back to the early days in Nickerson and thank the good Lord for central air. Nickerson was home for all my formative years, but as much as I yearn for those carefree days, I do certainly enjoy the convenience of running water, electricity, inside plumbing, and central air.
So I live vicariously in my childhood memories. I set in my 72 degree house while the sun beats down outside on the thermometer now reading 101. I miss the days of sand pits and sand hill plums, and I thank the man upstairs for giving me a childhood that can make me empathetic to the people I serve today. There is not a night that I do not lay in my bed and count my blessings, and growing up in Nickerson, Kansas has made me the woman I am today and for that I thank God!
To survive the heat, we wore a minimum of clothes and tried to stay in the shade of a tree. Being in the house was not much better, because air conditioning was pretty much non-existent. Nickerson had no swimming pool as I recall and if they did we would not have been able to afford it. So we were left with the Arkansas River, Cow Creek, Bull Creek and Vincent's Sand Pit. Mummy's had a sand pit on the other end of town, but we were not allowed in there. It was a functioning business and Vincent's was not. And Vincent's was within walking distance. Hey! I just remembered, there was a sand pit about 3 blocks from the house. I do not recall whether it was a working pit or not, but it seems way back in my little mind that the owners child had fallen in and drowned, so it was not open any more. (This may or may not be true because my 70 years prior memories tend to become rather distorted.)
Back to Vincent's Sand Pit. I have been deathly afraid of water my entire life. I do not know why, only that I was and still am. (I did go many years back to the YWCA heated pool and took swimming lessons so if I were to fall in I would know to roll over and relax and float until some friendly passerby could rescue me. Hopefully!) Consequently, I did not swim in the sand pit and to my clearest memory, I only visited it once. It seems it was about a mile or so from the house and beyond the cemetery. I recall running barefoot down the road which was very sandy and the sand was very hot! Jake rode his bike and I ran behind.
Vincent's Sand Pit was also a favorite fishing spot. It must be a lot like Beemer Lake in Lakin, Kansas. Usually the fishermen came later in the day or very early in the morning. Fish rarely bite in the heat of the day. We had a pint jar half full with water and a pop bottle suspended upside down so the opening just touched the water. When the water was sucked up it the neck of the bottle, it meant the fish were biting. If it was not raised, you might as well stay home. When I married Kenneth we fished a lot, so I set one of those on the window sill in the kitchen. When he asked me what that was for, I told him. It was then I learned that it was actually a crude barometer and I could save myself a lot of watchin if I just walked over and looked at the barometer on the wall! Duh!
As we set here, gripped in a heat wave, I flash back to the early days in Nickerson and thank the good Lord for central air. Nickerson was home for all my formative years, but as much as I yearn for those carefree days, I do certainly enjoy the convenience of running water, electricity, inside plumbing, and central air.
So I live vicariously in my childhood memories. I set in my 72 degree house while the sun beats down outside on the thermometer now reading 101. I miss the days of sand pits and sand hill plums, and I thank the man upstairs for giving me a childhood that can make me empathetic to the people I serve today. There is not a night that I do not lay in my bed and count my blessings, and growing up in Nickerson, Kansas has made me the woman I am today and for that I thank God!
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