This is a true story about taking chances. About chances that only young people seem to take. About chances that, if taken, could end in disaster. This was my first experience with such a chance.

Magnolia Gardens was a country western outdoor pavilion built on the San Jacinto River back in the late '40's. It was about six miles past Sheldon Reservoir on the way to the old Beaumont Highway river bridge where we fished many times as kids. I remember that Mom and Dad always warned us to stay clear of the running water, the currents, and whirlpools. It was fascinating sitting on the bank watching the river current swirl by carrying along with it debris. (My brother) Harold and I would sometimes get tired of fishing and, while Dad wasn't looking, we'd slip off our shoes and wander out into the water. The river always seemed to be moving, swirling around our feet, the sand slipping away, and the whirlpools tugging at our legs. It seemed the deeper you went, the harder it was to get back. But we always did. For some reason the river was always flowing fast near the bridge. Dad said the river was dropping causing the water to move faster. It was dangerous, but I always had an urge to go further but never did.

I was about fourteen or fifteen when I went to Magnolia Gardens without Mom and Dad. Everest Ciegelski, Eddie Higginbotham ("Higgy"), Douglas Paradowski, and I went there in Higgy's car. It was my first trip in a car with other kids. It was an adventure. Magnolia Gardens had an outdoor dance floor with country western music, a grill that served hamburgers, hotdogs, and barbecue.

And there were lots of young girls - the main attraction.

It also had a beach with white sand. Unusual in that river sand was always brown and dirty. The owner had trucked in tons of the white stuff making it look almost like Pensacola, Florida.

When we got there we walked out on the "beach" and stared at that same flowing water. The whirlools, the debris flowing downstream, the currents that seemed to swirl around and around. It was still dangerous. But then we looked across the river and there was a steep bank rising up with a row of tall trees on top. Seems the river had cut through the bank over a period of many years and left tree roots exposed. The bank was about 60 or 70 feet (only guessing), and the trees were about 70 or 80 feet tall (again guessing).

There on top of the bank were kids swinging off a rope on one of the trees that stood right at the river's edge. They would grab the rope, run back as far as they could, run forward, leap off the bank's edge releasing the rope at the right time, and freefall into the swirling water below. Then came the challenge to swim back, climb the vertical bank, and try it again. It was incredible. I couldn't believe it. Kids were that stupid? The river was very wide, they would have to swim across, climb the banks, and take a chance that their freefall would land them in the river. An error in judgement would bring them down on the banks below or a slide down the bank itself. Then when they hit the water they had to recover quickly before the current starting taking them downstream. And they had to be good swimmers. There was danger in everything they had to do. But no one, not even the management of Magnolia Gardens, seemed to care. No warning signs, no adult supervision, just kids taking a chance.

Everest, Douglas, and I just watched, but Higgy wanted to try. And he did. But he only made it to mistream and swam back. Said the water was too swift, said he would try it again. I wanted to go home but didn't want the others to see that I was afraid. You weren't supposed to show fear at that age, but I was terrified. I thought about all those times Mom and Dad warned Harold and me about those currents.

Higgy tried it again and after many, many swimstrokes made it across!! He was our hero. He stood on the banks smiling and waving his arms to come on in and give it a try. He climbed the bank, grabbed the rope, ran back and swung out like Tarzan. He hit the water, turned around and swam back to try it again. After that, it began to look like fun. I had the urge to try it, but something held me back. I said I would try it some other day. We left and went home.

After that it became a weekly ritual to go there and try and swing the ropes. None of us except Higgy made it across. Higgy became sort of a hero, Girls were watching. He even got a phone number from one of the admiring girls. Good old Higgy. But Douglas never gave up. He wanted to cross that river. He wanted to have the girls watch his heroic efforts. But he just couldn't make it. I told him to give it up. He just smiled and said some day he would make it across.

Then, one Sunday we stayed home. I got a phone call from Everest around 8:00 that evening. Douglas had drowned. At Magnolia Gardens earlier that evening they had recovered his body about a mile downstream. He didn't make it. I had warned him not to try it. Why did he have to do it? What thoughts raced through his mind on the final seconds of his life? He couldn't swim. But then I remember that urge I had to go for it. It was OK. It would be cool to swim across, wave at the girls, climb the bank and swing out while everyone was cheering. Douglas reached that thin line of decision making that I think all of us had. Should I take a chance? The thrill outweighed common sense. He was fifteen years old.

His funeral at Resurrection was the first time I attended one where someone my age had died. It was weird. Young people are not supposed to die. After all, you have your whole life ahead of you. It didn't make sense. Why didn't he listen to me? Why didn't I take the same chance? Then I remember years before Mom and Dad warning Harold and me about the river. They probably saved my life. If only Douglas had listened. It never made sense. Sometimes death never does.