LETTER FROM JOAN GEIGER

Dear Ken:

I recall those days with pleasure. Sometimes we would just have missed the Complete bus to town when we finished swimming, and instead of waiting thirty minutes for another, we ambled our way toward town the back way. When we got to the old cemetery (Rose Hill?), you'd sit on a tombstone while Geraldine and I strolled around reading tombstones. When we finally got on the Tuxedo bus, you promptly went to sleep.

Your mom didn't know about the creek and can't believe she let you go off so young. The creek was a sad little trickle (the stream probably contaminated by Ms. Sadie Kendall Knight's play-school animals--but as Geraldine says, "Who cared?"). It was less than knee-deep anywhere and only wide enough at "our spot" to thrash about in. We slid down the bank and dirtied our bathing suit bottoms (wonder what Willie Mae thought the dirt came from). You loved it, but we did not go back many times. The park pool was usually more fun, especially after you learned to swim.

Those were good times. Kids were safe out roaming--at least in Meridian. We were blessed.

Geraldine remembers our climbing in the windows at the Baptist church and the Assembly of God. We didn't vandalize; we just looked, except for the crossvines we removed from the Baptist Church's fans and smoked out behind the church.