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This story took place, most likely, in the summer of 1967 or 1968. The location for this story was at the duck pond that was created in 1966 (perhaps 1965) along the marshy area where a creek starting from the Hugh Hibbard (or his son, Howard) farm area flowed across the land of Jesse Hibbard and then into a pond just on the edge of his land. The shape of the duck pond was primarily in the shape of a doughnut, with an island where the "hole" would be, and where the bread of the doughnut is, there was a water channel. For an explanation of the creation of this duck pond, read the story about Keith raising Quacks.
It was a hot summer day, and Lou, Bruce, and I had likely been hard at work weeding the garden, watering the trees, or doing other home tasks. I don't know who suggested it, but it was likely me, being the oldest (though I am not sure). We decided to walk down to the duck pond and take a swim. As we walked down the farm lane, we likely talked about Bruce not knowing how to swim yet. Bruce was likely 5 at this time (or maybe 4).
I suggested that we should head to the island and play there (on the muddy mound with some grass growing there at this point). Lou swam there (or walked?), while I had Bruce get on my shoulders. I had first tried walking across by myself to make sure that I could, so I was ready to carry Bruce with me. I hadn't factored in how the extra weight might impact the short trip. When I was about halfway across the 15' channel, I felt myself sinking down over my mouth and nose, but not my eyes. I picked up the pace and tried to walk faster to get to the island, but the muddy, mucky bottom didn't lend itself to this very well. But after a few steps, I could breathe again, and we got to the island. Looking back, I am glad that feet did not get stuck in this muck because I sank 2-3 inches on each step.
But things were not over now just because we reached the island: we also had to get back. Bruce was a little concerned. I don't remember how I convinced him to get back on my shoulders, but he did. I then proceeded to try to navigate the journey back in a more expedient fashion. I don't recall now if I sank enough to cover my nose again or not, but I know that we got across fine and more quickly.
As I write this almost 60 years after the event, I think of so many things. Why did I have so much confidence that I could carry Bruce across in the first place? Why didn't I leave Bruce on the island (perhaps with Lou) and get some help from Ken or Keith? (Perhaps I didn't want to advertise my foolishness.) Did I then start encouraging Bruce and our parents that Bruce should learn to swim? Did I, Lou, or Bruce ever share this event with anyone else, such as our parents? Do any of you know the answers to any of these questions? Finally, though I was not at all spiritually minded at the time of the story, I am now and this event reminds me of what David says in Psalm 40:2--3: "He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the Lord and put their trust in him"
Published 2026-07-17.
If you find any errors in the text, please let me know. Thanks. Contact me with errors or comments using hibbardac@gmail.com. [Back to the top] [About the author, Al]