"Grab your bathing suits!" she'd yell through the house. Kids running to the van. A long hot drive. Crawling over seats and legs and running across the hot rocks to plunge into the cool river until I was tired out. Then another dash across the hot rocks. Flop down on mother's blanket. She'd pull out sandwiches and fruit and cookies. Sleep on the way back, gravel and lakewater drying on my feet as the Arkansas sun shown through the window onto my tuckered out face.