The river looks so placid in this picture. One year, in the early '70s, when I was living back at Penrose with my "Five", Dorothy had a friend out to stay with her, and we went down to the river. We were at the place where there is a flow back into the river (east of the bridge), and Dorothy's friend slipped on a mossy rock and fell in the river. The current was strong, and I forgot that I can't swim. I pushed out into the water and retrieved her, and we were thankful to pile into the old Chevy and get home to dry clothes. Later, when I realized what might have happened, the shock set in! That was the second time I'd pulled someone out of the water. I never want to experience a third. Still, we always loved going down to the river, and loved falling asleep to the sound of the cottonwood trees and the river on a warm summer's night.
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