I am thrilled when I see an article about the wonderful little Wichita Mountains town of Medicine Park. Such articles often talk about Medicine Park’s slow and easy life—a pace that is making a resurgence. I have fond childhood memories of Independence Day celebrations in Medicine Park, named “Medicine” because the Native Americans who lived nearby (Kiowas, Comanches, Ft. Sill Apaches) felt the waters in its various lakes and springs had healing powers.

Begun in 1908 as the brain child of the enterprising Elmer Thomas (who later became one of Oklahoma’s U.S. Senators), the old part of Medicine Park is made up of cobblestone houses. As a child, my parents’ friends lived in one of those homes. The house I remember best belonged to the banker from my little town of Apache, Jim Bohart, and his wife, Etta. (Only doctors and bankers and the like were rich enough to own such summer homes back then.) Their house was not in the town proper—it sat on a nearby mountain. Even for a five year old whose focus was on swimming, the sunset view was marvelous. My father was a first-rate sign painter, and I remember how excited I was when he painted and hung a sign over the front door of the Bohart’s wonderful cobblestone paradise. The sign read, “Bo” with a great big heart—for Bohart.

When I was five, the Boharts invited everybody from our little First Christian Church down to their “house in the Wichitas” for a 4th of July celebration. That day sparkles in my memory like the fireworks that capped off a day of eating, singing, and swimming in the deliciously cold waters of the town’s natural pool. The centerpiece of this marvelous pool was a toboggan slide which had a ladder that I was sure reached to heaven. Those brave enough, and I certainly was because I had my Daddy holding my hand, rented boards that resembled sleds. We took them to the top, positioned them between the runners of the slide, and slid down the wet “highway” into the icy cold pool below.

While all of this was wonderful, thrilling, scary—every word in my limited vocabulary at that time—the best part of that Independence Day to rival all others for the rest of my life was seeing my father in a bathing suit. My father was very prim and proper and I had never once in all my life seen him in any state except fully and completely dressed, usually in a suit and tie. My father, who was forty-five when I was born, in a bathing suit! He had a chest. He had legs. There was hair on his back!

I had seen my dear Mama, who was 13 years his junior, her in shorts, mid-drift tops, and in nearly every kind of outfit imaginable. But not Daddy. “Oh, my stars and garters,” as my grandma used to say.

My suggestion to you? Right now, do not pass “Go,” do not collect $200 (remember Monoply?). Instead, go to your computer, type in MedicinePark.com, and enjoy some sweet memories of our Sooner State. Then next weekend, go there. You’ll thank me when you return.

Molly Levite-Griffis was born in Apache, Oklahoma, the setting for four of her seven award-winning books. Her newest book, Simon Says (Eakin Press, $22.95), received the “Oklahoma Book Award” in the Young Adults category by the Oklahoma Department of Libraries. Look for it in bookstores now. The mother of two grown children, she is a graduate of the University of Oklahoma and lives in Norman, Oklahoma. Visit her online at mollygriffis.com.