There is a little story I keep bumping into in the back of my mind. I was in the second or third grade but it was in the summer when school was out and dad got a job with Halliburton. He was hired in Wichita Falls but the job was in Nocona and we had to move there. Jack and Mildred Parks loaded up our belongings and carried them to our newly rented place in Nocona and we followed in the car. We lived only a few blocks from a city park that had a swimming pool and in no time, the first weekend in Nocona, Kenneth and I walk to the park in our freshly cut off britches to go swimming and to socialize with kids our own age. We stayed a couple or hours and returned home but later that evening our parents consented to let us go back to the park for another short dip before bedtime. It was still light but fewer people were at the park. As we approached the pool I took off running and dived into the deep end. As soon as I dived I realized my mistake. They had drained the pool and only a few inches of water covered the deep end. I slammed into the concrete bottom face first, both surprised and hurt. Skin had been scrapped off me from my knees to the crown of my head. I somehow walked to the shallow end of the pool, trying not to cry because a small group of kids had gathered around the edge of the pool to see how bad a moment of stupidity had cause my hurt. Everyone seemed to know the pool was drained every Sunday afternoon late but me. I was a skinned mess for a couple of weeks. That was not my last act of stupidity growing up but it is the last time I dived in a pool without checking the depth of the water.