Another Day at the River

In the summer, my dad's schedule revolves around Saturdays at the River. The Guadalupe River. The River, that many people sit in tubes and float down. The River, that those tubers tend to flip into as they go over waterfalls. The River, that has lots of loot on the bottom from tubers flipping out. The River, that needs a SCUBA diver to keep its bottom clean. The River, that is my dad's treasure island. Ya followin' me?

And I have to quantify that, with this: My dad doesn't just dive for the loot. The thrill for him is to find the owners. His greatest joy comes at the various thank you cards he's received, and stories of how the personal items (watches, rings, wallets, etc) meant so much to the owners, and how much they appreciate Dad for finding them. There are other divers that would knowingly keep something even if they meet the owner, who's begging to know if their item was found. But not my dad. I don't think there's a greedy bone in his body. It's all about the hunt for him.

Anyhow, there are plenty of items that he doesn't find owners for, which he gives to us. Sunglasses, tshirts, towels, etc. And the occasional scary mask.

(Can you guess who's wearing it?)

The exciting thing for us shore-lovers is watching the water for Dad's bubbles as he dives below.

But occasionally we get bored with that and decide water gun fights are better. In tubes, of course.

Although sometimes we just cuddle up in the tube and pretend we really don't need a nap.

Sometimes we just soak up some Nana love.

And some Daddy love.

And some Mommy love.

But the best part of the River...is Big Daddy himself.