Memories of growing up north of town

Looking back at the many memories that I have of growing up in the north of town I recall many things. Like anxiously awaiting the first real melt of the spring. I am not talking about the teasers that we would get in mid-winter, but when the water began flowing in the ditch in front of our house.

 

We actually did have ditches along both sides of Bridge Avenue before the curb and gutter thing came into being. This was when us kids would make makeshift boats to send sailing down to “the bridge” and into the slough, which was flooded each spring. Many of those vessels never made it to their destination. They would get hung up in the slough grass and the only way to get them going again was to walk into the water.

 

One year my neighbor, Roger, who was older than me, decided to take an old duck boat and explore the slough during the highwater season. Roger must have been bored that day, so he asked me if I wanted to go with him on an adventure. I jumped at the chance and as we ventured down the “crick” and out into the slough, Roger handed me a coffee can and told me to start bailing the water out of the leaking boat. It didn’t take me long to realize that he didn’t take me along because we were friends, but because he needed someone to keep the boat from sinking.

 

I didn’t mind that, because I was having an adventure that I had never experienced before. I kept bailing the water out of the boat and Roger kept paddling. There came a time when we realized that the hole in the boat was larger than I was fast at bailing. We finally decided that we needed to head for dry land before we ended up dragging a boat full of water through the slough. It was a good time spent sharing an adventure with Roger exploring the slough.

 

I believe that Roger passed away way too young, in his early 50’s, I believe. I remember that his mother, Florence, would bake buns and bread and if I was over at their house she would treat us to hot buns with peanut butter and a glass of Kool-Aid. His mother made the best buns and to this day I don’t think that there is a better treat to be had.

 

Until next time: I have heard a lot of talk from folks about the “Jumbo” perch being caught in Pickerel Lake. As the weather warms and the lakes open up, I am getting excited to do a little open water fishing.

 

My Uncle Harvey Christensen would take me fishing at Pickerel in the spring. We would fish bullheads from shore along the highway. Fishing was good and there would be cars lined up all along the highway with people fishing for those whiskered fish. Those were good times, when it was good to be a kid.

 

Please take the time to remember our troops that are serving now and those that have served before them. They are the reason that we have all of the freedoms that we enjoy today.