(this is a condensed story from my forthcoming book, "Skeeter")
 |
| "Headin' downriver" |
When I was a young Skeeter boy growing up in the Midwest...one of the first things we did after the school bell rang for the last time and signaled in the start of Summer, was to head down to the Stillwater River and begin our annual adventure of building the best raft in the world. My friend, "The Jer" and I would make the attempt to circumnavigate the world each year by launching a homemade vessel constructed from fallen trees that accumulated in the nearby woods along the banks of the river. We would lash the logs together with rope I stole from mom's clothesline and "The Jer" and I would dream of migrating into the Miami River and then the Ohio River and then, ....well, we weren't sure what river came next, but we knew we would make it into some ocean..
I was in charge of design. I used the basic Huck Finn plan but added such things as a broken aluminum lawn chair that we nailed to one of the logs to serve as the captain's chair and a piece of plywood nailed to a broken broom handle that we used as a rudder. The rudders were never necessary though, because each year we barely made it more than a 100 feet before the rafts started sinking due to the water-logged, rotten logs.
This probably was best however, since although we knew we had our first obstacle in finding a way to keep everything intact once we made it to the Helena Street spillway, we weren't sure what lay ahead in our trek.....we were just happy to be attempting the journey....regardless of what the outcome would be.
And so it was.....it would be my training and basis for the rest of my life......"enjoying the journey and not to worry about failure or success...it was about seizing the moment."
It doesn't always have to be about winning or accumulating things....even Babe Ruth who everyone identified as the homerun king maintained a close race on another record....a record for strikeouts. Twenty four percent of the time "The Babe" made an out, it was because of a strikeout.
I've had a recent setback in my attempt to get these stories into print. but that won't dismay me....heck, if nothing else it gives me strength to find a way down that river of hope where all dreams come true.....but more importantly, I'm enjoying the journey....it's the journey that is the adventure.
So, it's time to find more logs, find some more rope and push off from shore once again and continue the journey.
1 comment:
I can also remember having a lot of fun centered around the Stillwater River each summer. My good friend, John and I, always seemed to get our hands a few "Cherry Bombs” every year. When we did we would usually head for the river. We would also bring a roll of string. It was time to go fishing.
We would take the cherry bomb and tie it to a large rock. Then we would light it and toss the rock into the river. In a few moments a large bubble would rise to the surface. The bubble would expand and burst with a loud boom. Sometimes a fish would be within the bubble and fly into the air. The higher the fish went into the air the more we would laugh. Who said the simple mind was easy to amuse.
We would continue to do this until we ran out of cherry bombs or felt that the police were close by.
If we had any left, you would be surprised how far and how high they would go when launched in a slingshot. But that’s another story, for another day.
Your friend,
Jimmy
Post a Comment