Mill Pond

The correct order of our earliest memories is often a jigsaw puzzle rather than a chronological mural. For some strange reason three events compose the first big pieces of my retrievable data base.

When WWII ended, I can remember the entire neighborhood pouring onto the streets with shouts of joy and relief. Older kids banged garbage can lids together. From the third floor of a nearby apartment building twin effigies of Hitler and Tojo were suspended by ropes around their necks. Years later, I graduated from college and started a 20 year military career.

At age four I distinctly recall an aunt and uncle taking my slightly older cousin and me to a basketball game. I can recall the players wearing knee high socks, using a basketball with laces, and during each time out they would sit around their respective free throw circles. I do not know who won or who even played. I have loved the game of basketball ever since.

Somewhere between the ages of four and five, I caught my first fish, a small bass, using one of my grandfather’s cane poles. My grandfather, on my mother’s side, never owned a store bought rod and reel. I have in my possession what is thought to be the inside portion of his faithful companion minnow bucket.

The location of that first catch was at the tail end of a pool of water that slowed after making a rushing, bubbling sound over a small dam that corralled a small river which once powered a water wheel grist mill. Hence, the name Mill Pond. An oscillating suspension foot bridge crossed the Mill Pond from the old mill to a house on the opposite side. Even though I returned to the Mill Pond many times, I never attempted the certain walk of death across the frightening bridge. All diseases start somewhere. My now terminal fishing infection was contracted at the Mill Pond and my grandfather served as a willing enabler for many years.

I'm hooked !