I was about seven years old I was allowed to walk all the way down
to Red River with the older boys. It was only a half mile from my
home but it seemed like a long way at that age; the river was definitely
a world apart, and each trip was a new discovery. What looked like
sandbars was really quick-sand. It was easy to sink in up to your
ankles, and if you werent careful, up to your knees. Stories
had people and even large cows sinking out of sight.
There was always
a little stream of water that meandered along the wide river bed.
It was fun to wade across this little stream. Of course, when it rained
or when the river was at flood stage you didnt go near Red River.
And that whiskey
still that some of the boys discovered . . . Oklahoma was a dry state,
so way down among the willows, which bordered the river, we discovered
a man with a shotgun guarding his illegal whiskey still. We didnt
go near that place anymore. In another secluded spot the boys came
upon an illegal cockfight; we avoided that spot, too.