Shift Tab

With the price of groceries soaring I opted to finally try a single twelve-pack of Big K Diet Cola, the off-brand cheaper version of Diet Coke. At $1.99 I hoped it would be a good substitue for the nearly $4.00 name brand. After unloading and putting away all the groceries, I popped open a can and poured it over ice. With the first sip I was taken back almost forty years to my carefree high school days. This soda tasted just like Tab, a diet cola introduced in the seventies. Memories flooded my mind of my good friend Holly. We spent many summer days lying in the sun, on beach towels stretched brightly across the lawn in our backyards, sipping Tab while we baked our bodies to a golden bronze. Sometimes we would climb up to the flat tar roof over her garage, slather ourselves with baby oil, and lounge on the aluminum-framed chaises to give ourselves a quick tan. Ice cold Tab quenched our thirsts while we sizzled in the sun. We would set a timer, then turn on cue, like chickens on a kabob, basting ourselves evenly from back to front and sides. When the heat became more than we could bear we would scramble down and walk across the street to the public swimming pool and seek cooling relief in the cold chlorinated water.

On other occasions we would seek out the sun with a group of friends at various locations. My favorite was to swim and sunbathe at the river dam. We could lie on the flat rocks nearby and soak up the sun then wade into the rolling water and slide over the first tier of the dam, catching ourselves before we slipped over the second tier flowing into the main riverstream. Then we would scramble back up and do it all over again. We challenged ourselves to wade all the way across the dam to the other side of the river where we would climb up into the pumping station and sit on the brick wall and watch the water roll by. Sometimes we would hike up to the road, climb up onto the old iron bridge, and dive into the river upstream of the dam. Then we would float along until we were whisked over the edge of the dam. Sometimes we would go further upriver to the sandbar, where we spent late afternoons swimming and sunbathing, then early evenings partying around a campfire, laughing and having a great time with friends, some of us drinking Tab while others experimented with alcohol. There were always adventures to be had somewhere along the river and we were the river rats enjoying every moment we could.

Another popular swimming destination was the reservoir about thirty miles away from our small town. There we would spend hours floating on rafts, swimming, and exploring. We would climb up the steep hill and swing out over the water from a rope tied to a tree limb, then jump or dive into the water at just the right moment to avoid the rock ledge lying just below the surface near the shore. Then we would swim back to the ledge and watch the others do the same. We would wave to the sight-seers on the pontoon tour boat as it went by, entertaining them with our acrobatic skills from the rope. It is here that I learned to do a perfect dive, a useful skill when I joined the swim team. We challenged ourselves while we developed our friendships and the sun and water were our common ground.

One of our friends' parents owned a camper at a private lake. There we would float lazily on big inner tubes until we were waterlogged. Then we would roast hot dogs and marshmallows over a roaring campfire and spend hours playing euchre at the picnic table by the light of kerosene lamps. Whoever got tired first claimed the beds or sofas and sleeping bags were strewn on every inch of floor space available for the rest of us. The next morning we would take one last morning swim then head out, crammed into our cars with all our gear. We would lean our heads out the windows to let the wind dry our hair as we drove along the country roads toward home.

Looking back, I suppose we were extremely lucky that nobody got hurt during our many watery outings. Oh, but the memories are fond of this carefree time of our lives.