It seems as thought splashing in water dates back to my earliest memories.
First there as the tub times. Toys of all assortments and bubbles and I remember crapping in the tub :( with my friend Graham Woods who was staying over while his family was out of town. Sorry buddy.
Then there was running through the sprinkler on the lawn.
There of course were the beach days spent with my mom and sister at Kye Bay during the summer while Dad was hard at work surveying the Comox Valley.
That segues into school days. Those seemingly long spring and fall days of the seventies and earlier eighties spent in the classroom in wet denim. British Columbia is most unforgiving of those who don't know better than to stay under cover whilst the cloud open up and spew their contents on the hapless fools below. I was gladly one of those fools then and still am today.
I remember in third or fourth grade we had a wild child in our midst. Chris Billy, the denim clad bezerker would revel in the the rainy season. Long, fifty meter puddles would form on the lower fields of Comox Elementary and Chris would take it as a challenge, nay an insult not to run through them. He would wind up with a crazed yell and hurdle himself through at top speed almost skipping along in a Jesus Lizard fashion till he emerged on the other end speckled and spackled with mud, dirt and grass only to sit the rest of the steamy uncomfortable afternoon in the classroom. There's nothing like the smell of Keds and a Lee Jeans jacket on a radiator.
Alas, I have rediscovered my childhood admiration of Chris. Surfing and swimming was the first harbinger of my waterborne reawakening. Then came the rains.
Los Angeles is like a frail old man on ice when it comes to rain. It neither tolerates nor deals well after the fact with precipitation. It tends to spew it out like an unseasoned freshman given too much drink whereas I tend to bathe in it and welcome it like a cleansing.
Any city or town takes on a whole new persona when washed and born afresh. Los Angeles and Culver City is no different. Mid-bath mind you, careless childhood is to be found.
Riding home in the somewhat daunting and dangerous rains this evening was at first scary and then hilarious. The first large puddle I rode through was more than likely met with a grimace and a groan. The second however was most certainly met with a giggle and the immediate search for a third.
I was soaked when I reached home and completely renewed. There's truly nothing like some childhood fun a la Chris Billy to take one back to simpler pleasures. When water meets skin and worries are washed away.
Who knew a puddle could bring such fun?