The summer of 1955 was one of the best ones of my life. The Dodgers were having a good year with Newcomb, Snider, Reese, Hodges, Campanella and the gang. I followed them daily, greeting the paper boy at 7 AM to see how my beloved Bums were doing. The Dodgers later won their first World Series.
I also made the Indian’s roster for Beckley, WV Little League and I bought a genuine Daisy Pump Air Rifle from Keatley’s Sporting Goods. I treasured that gun, which accounted for more than a few starlings and pigeons.
But the highlight that summer was the swimming pool – a public pool in Beckley. Freddie Arnold, my constant companion, and I each cajoled $10 from our parents and bought a season pass to the pool. We rarely missed a day. The pool opened at 11 so we ate an early lunch, waited the required 30 minutes after eating, got on our bikes and sped to the pool.
It is inconceivable that a child today would ride his or her bike to a pool today, unless it was on a cul-de-sac, two blocks away.
Freddie and I rode a mile to the by-pass, then two miles down that road, then a left into town through traffic – about 4 miles overall. And we made it every time.
The pool was a municipal pool, not very fancy, but it had a high diving board and a low board that we nearly wore out. That summer, we became experts at cannonballs, taking great delight at splashing water on pool visitors who had not yet been “baptized”. We raced each other from end to end and had underwater contests to see who could hold his breath the longest. We took a dime and a nickel and stuck them in that little pocket on our swimming trunks and bought an Orange Crush and a Zero Bar every day.
I haven’t had a Zero Bar in years, but back then it was my go to candy.
After hours at the pool, without a lick of sunscreen, we hopped on our bikes and pedaled home, ravenous after a full day in the sun.
That $10 pass at the Beckley pool was one of my great investments, and the summer of 1955 was among the best of times to be a young Boomer.