Snug Harbor (Part 5)

I have always been regretting that I was not as wise as the day I was born.” Henry David Thoreau

           

            I woke up early and bleary eyed. I crawled out of my tent, checked the coals on the campfire and added a couple logs of wood to it. I placed my hands over the new flames to warm them and looked around the campsite. The evidence of our night of food, companionship, lies and bullshit were not as bad as I had feared. My camp-mates were still asleep and the sounds of their snores could barely be heard over the sounds of the sounds of the chirping birds and scavenging creatures of the woods.

            I took my time doing the morning chores that come with camping, getting water boiling, brushing teeth, relieving my bladder, and getting some food cooking and coffee brewing. (Yes, I drank coffee at an early age… earlier than the age of thirteen that’s for sure.) It wasn’t long after I had sat back down on my log when Kevin poked his head out of his tent. “Mornin’… what time is it?” he mumbled to me as he crawled out of his tent clumsily.

            “About eight-thirty or so.” I answered as I poured myself a cup of coffee. “You want some coffee?”

            “Coffee? Um, no thanks.”

            “Ok, suit yourself.” I said and took a sip from my cup. The bitter, acrid taste filled my mouth and I could feel the caffeine start to course through my body.

            I looked over at Kevin and he was fumbling through his pack of smokes and mumbling to himself.

            “Mind if I mooch one of those from you?” I asked.

            Kevin lit the treasure he had fished out of the paper pack and tossed it to me. “Have you seen the Pi’s?” he asked

            “No.” I said as I lit up “They seemed pretty beat when we all crashed last night and I heard them snoring earlier when I was getting the fire stoked. How’d you sleep?”

            “Ok, I suppose. I’m sore and the ground was pretty lumpy. I think I slept on a rock or something.”

            “Yeah, it takes some time to get used to the ground. We get pretty spoiled by our beds, but after three days out here you really don’t notice it. A little hint, gather up some pine needles and scatter them under your sleeping bag.”

            “What do the pine needles do?”

            “They act as a cushion, like a pad, and keep you from feeling all the rocks you missed when you set up your tent. You should have about an inch of needles under your bag too.”

            “Thanks, I’ll try that. Is there anything to eat for breakfast?”

            “Well, we ate all the fish last night but I do have some canned food we can heat up as well as a sandwich or two.” I offered.

            “Anything is good. Can’t believe how hungry I am.” And as if to confirm his statement Kevin’s stomach let out a loud rumble and I chuckled.

            “I will start to heat up some of the canned food, in the meantime, have a sandwich.” I said as I headed into my tent to get some food. It took a few minutes but I managed to gather up two sandwiches, a can of ravioli, a can of pork and beans and a couple of hot dogs I had wrapped up in tin foil. When I emerged from my tent Big Pi and Little Pi were sitting at the campfire with Kevin. Little Pi was poking the fire with a stick, Big Pi was trying to light a cigarette and Kevin was putting another log on the fire.

            “Morning guys.” I said as I tried to not drop the load of groceries in my arms.

            “Hey Skip.” The brothers chimed in unison.

            I dropped one of the cans on the ground as I approached them and Little Pi got up and picked it up for me. I placed everything on the ground at my feet by the fire. Then I grabbed the two sandwiches that were wrapped in wax paper, handed them to Little Pi and said “Split these in half and pass them around.” I then took out my Swiss army knife and started to open up the canned food and placed them in the pot of hot water. I close the can opener tool on my knife and opened up a knife and stirred the beans and ravioli. Once the cans started to get warm I put the hot dogs in the water and then sat back and enjoyed my half of a bologna and cheese sandwich.

            I pulled the cans out of the water with my hand wrapped in my shirt so I would burn my hand, opened up the spoon on my Swiss Army knife, took a bite of beans then a bite of ravioli and passed the food and spoon on to Kevin. He repeated what I had done and then passed the cans and spoon on to the Pi brothers. When the cans were empty I speared the hot dogs with knife and put them in the cans and we ate those. Our eating was done in silence with occasional interruptions of a burp or a cough.

            We finished eating, cleaned up our dishes and I soaked the fire pit with two pots of water. My new friends got their tents secured and their backpacks prepared to go to their house. I prepped my back pack and as we walked to the other side of the pond I looked back at our campsite and hoped it would be ok.

            On our mile long hike to Kevins’ neighborhoods more tales of riding the dirt bikes in the “Dunes” and jumping the “Pit of Death” were traded amongst my compatriots. I felt a nervous tension growing in my stomach as the size of the “Pit of Death” grew from twenty feet long, six feet deep and five feet wide to forty feet long, twenty feet deep and fifteen feet wide and the stacks of broken motorcycles and amputated body parts filled the pit. The guys also filled me in on the rest of their gang; apparently Kevin had a sister named Karen who was a year younger than him. The Pi’s had an older sister who was a senior in high school and rarely hung out in the neighborhood. There was also Steve whose bikes we would be riding, Steve had a sister named Teresa who was a year older and then there was Mikey who was a kid who had a three-wheeler and a Kawasaki KDX.

            Apparently, from what I could understand, Mikey held the record for jumping the “Pit of Death” at the “Dunes” and him and Teresa had been going steady until Mikey got caught kissing Karen. Of course, I could have misunderstood. By the time we got to Kevin’s house my head was swimming with drama, bullshit and half-truths. I had to concentrate on recalling the tips and techniques of dirt bike riding as well as what sort of replacement food and supplies I would need for the campsite.

            We piled our gear in Kevin’s garage and headed out to Mikey’s house. We found him eating his way through a box of Cap’n Crunch, Crunch Berries in his parents garage as well as the rest of the gang. Kevin introduced me around and I tried hard to remember every ones name. My main distraction came from the motorcycles, dirt bikes, and three wheelers parked everywhere.

            Kevin was sitting on his three-wheeler, Steve was sitting on a Honda 125, Teresa was leaning against the workbench and Karen was standing at the entrance to the garage smoking. Everyone agreed it would be a perfect day to head to the Dunes and tear up the sand for the day.

            Questions were asked about my proficiency on a bike, and answered. It was decided I would use the Suzuki 75cc bike while everyone else used 100’s or 125’s. I really couldn’t complain, I was after all the new guy, untried and untested in the eyes of this well rounded group.

            We headed out in single file order and I was the second to the last one in line, Little Pi was last and he was riding the three wheeler. We rode through the neighborhood and then made a cut through an abandon houses’ backyard and onto a well worn trail canopied by trees and bushes. We rode for about a half a mile along this trail and one by one we crested a ten foot mound of dirt into the late morning sunlight.

            My fellow riders were already gunning the throttles of their machines, steering their bikes towards whoop-de-whoops, moguls and jumps. I pulled the Suzuki off to the side and let Little Pi blast by me, his screaming and laughter drowning out the high pitched whine of his engine. I sat on the bike and tried to take in the entire depth and breadth of what my pals had been calling “The Dunes”.

            The place seemed huge but it couldn’t have been more than a hundred and fifty yards long, thirty yards wide and in the shape of an oblong bowl. Dunes, burms, pits and moguls were scattered everywhere but there seemed to be a winding path between each obstacle the only exception to this was a straight-a-way path in the middle of the entire bowl. The path was about thirty yards long with a ramp at the end. At the high end of the ramp was what appeared to be a hole about six feet wide and at least fifteen feet long, the distances were hard for me to tell from my perch near the entrance to the ad hoc recreational area.

            I saw Kevin heading towards me like his ass was on fire and when he was about twenty feet from me he flipped his bike sideways and washed me down in a spray of sand, quickly followed by laughter.

            “Damn Kev!” I yelled over the din of motors “What the hell did you do that for?”

            “Just messin’ with you man. What are you sitting up here for? All the fun is down there?”

            “I’m trying to get a feel for things. What do you think I’m doing?”

            “Didn’t know if you were chicken? Oh, and you have to jump the Pit today. Which might be a bit hard on that small bike.” He said with a chuckle.

            “With a run like that I shouldn’t have a problem.” I said pointing to the path up to the ramp.

            “Well, let’s get it over with then. That way if you crash and burn we can get you to the hospital and still ride this afternoon.” He said and throttled up his bike and went down and parked his cycle alongside the path. The rest of the group soon followed suit forming two lines one on the east side of the path and one on the west side.

            I rode down to the far end of the Pit and slowly rode parallel along the entire length, once I got to the ramp I noticed a decent size groove in the center of it and knew the path I would have to take. At the low end of the ramp I steered my bike into the middle of the approach path and rode past my initiators. At the end of the line I turned my bike around and lined my bike up in the middle of the path.

            I sat back a bit, looked at the long line of dirt in front of me, then I made eye contact with each of my fellow riders. There was a tickle in my stomach, I could feel beads of sweat on my forehead and I knew my shirt was soaked through at the armpits. I shrugged my shoulders, pulled, put the bike in second gear, reved the engine up, popped the clutch and sent a rooster tail of sand into the air.

            “GERONIMO!!!” I screamed as headed off to face my newest abyss.

Snug Harbor Part 4

“You only need sit still long enough in some attractive spot in the woods that all its inhabitants may exhibit themselves to you by turns." Henry David Thoreau

            I led Kevin, Big Pi and Little Pi to an area near the pond where a large flat rock had been abandoned from a time when glaciers covered the most of this area 16,000 years ago. I set the pot that held the fish on the rock and pulled the fish out and set them side by side in front of me. I handed the pot to Kevin “Kev, can you fill this pot with some water for me?”

            Kevin took the pot and walked over to the pond and dipped it in the water and brought it back to me. I poured some of the water on the fish and pulled out my knife and began to gut my catch. As I did so, I explained to my camp guests how to slice the fish open and remove the insides. I made quick work of the cleaning and deposited the cleaned fish in the pot with the water and rinsed them off. I took the waste and threw it in the pond and then dumped the waste water into the pond as well.

            As I headed back towards the fire pit I looked over my shoulder and saw the brothers staring at me. Little Pi’s eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open, his older brother looked pale and he was holding his stomach with both hands. “C’mon guys, I have to get these things on the fire or they will go to waste.” I said and beckoned them to follow me. “Kevin, you want to gather up some more wood? We’re going to need a lot to last through the night.” I added.

            “Sure Skip” I heard Kevin say behind me. “Big Pi, you want to help?” he added

            “Uh… yeah, sure.” I heard the boy say weakly.

            “I think I’ll help too.” The younger brother squeaked out.

            I continued towards the camp site focused on getting dinner cooked. I got the fish salted, peppered, and even managed to throw some wild onions on them before I wrapped them up in tin foil and placed them on the highest level of the cooking rack. I then sat back, lit up a cigarette and watched as my camp mates brought armfuls of wood to the small pile I had made earlier. In no time the pile of wood grew large enough to not just last us one night but several.

            By the time the fish were ready to eat my three new friends looked tired, dirty and famished. They sat around the fire talking in breathless, incomplete sentences. Kevin was warning the Pi brothers not to dig into the fish immediately, but to wait a few minutes for the food to cool down enough and then he went on to describe the blister on the roof of his mouth from the fish he ate at lunch.

            I took the wrapped fish off the grate, set them on the ground in front of me and opened the foil. The aroma of the food filled our nostrils and I could see my visitors leaning in to get a good view of the source of the evening meal. “Where’d you learn to cook?” Little Pi asked. His voice breaking the hypnotic reverie we had all seemed to fall into.

            “For camping? In the Boy Scouts years ago.” I answered. “Well, that and my dad used to take us camping a lot. I’d help him fish and I’d watch my mom prepare the food.”

            “Smells good.” Big Pi chimed in.

            “Wait ‘til you taste it.” Kevin said knowingly.

            I tore three sheets of tinfoil off the roll I brought with me and set one fish on each sheet and handed them out. “Sorry I don’t have more silverware. I didn’t know I was going to have visitors.” I said

            “No problem man, we can use our fingers.” Big Pi answered “Besides we’re the ones crashing your campsite. I’m just glad I don’t have to spend the night at home.”

            I sat back and gave the Pi brothers a quizzical look and then looked at Kevin, he was staring at me and shaking his head in a manner that told me to let the statement go. I shrugged and nodded back at him and picked up my fish and began to eat.

            Nothing much was said while we ate, but the noise of lip smacking and burps filled the campsite and I knew I had done a decent job of making our meager meal tasty. When we had finished eating Big Pi passed out some cigarettes, I lit mine with a stick I had been poking the fire with, when it was lit I handed it to Kevin. He took the stick lit his smoke and passed it on to Big Pi who lit two cigarettes and handed one to his younger brother.

            “Is he old enough to smoke?” I asked.

            “I’m old enough.” He answered for himself.

            “And if we don’t give him a smoke, he runs home and tells Mom and Dad I’ve been smoking.” The older brother answered. “Don’t you?”

            “If you can do it, so can I. Aint nothing you can do that I can’t.” he said defensively.

            “Guys, knock it off.” Kevin said. “If you two start fighting, I’m going to kick both your asses.”

            “I’d like to see you try.” Little Pi challenged.

            That statement earned him a smack upside his head from his brother. “Knock it off, or I’ll take you home and tell Mom you’re acting up.”

            Little Pi sat there rubbing his ear and puffing on his cigarette. “You didn’t have to hit me so hard.” He pouted.

            Kevin stood up and stretched his arms out wide “I need to take a piss, any particular spot you have marked for that Skip?”

            “Yeah, up near the bend in the trail over there.” I answered as I pointed towards the entrance I came in on. Kevin stared at where I was pointing. The light was fading fast as the sun started to dip below the tree line.

            “Ok, I think I see it.”

            “Just walk about fifty feet that way and you’ll see some bushes that look like they’ve been half eaten. That is where you can piss.” I said.

            As he headed off towards the makeshift bathroom, Big Pi stood up and headed off after him. “Wait up Kev. I gotta go too.”

            “What about you?” I asked Little Pi

            “Nah, I’ll go later.” He said and then added “Thanks for letting us hang out with you.”

            “It’s no problem. Besides, I’m new here and I could use a few friends.”

            “Is that what we are to you?”

            I looked at the boy, he was staring me right in the eye and I could barely get a read on what he was thinking “Well, yeah. I hope so. What do you think?”

            “I don’t know. I’m just glad we don’t have to sleep at home tonight.”

            “So I gathered. What’s up with that?”

            “Nothing… Hey, so you were a boy scout? That’s cool. I don’t think there are any clubs like that out here in the sticks though.” He quickly changed the subject.

            “Yeah, I was, but I haven’t been one in a long time.”

            “So you remember the stuff you learned there?”

            “Yup, I remember lots of stuff. Especially once I’ve done something a couple of times.”

            “Think you could teach me some of it? Like the gutting of fish and cooking them and camping and stuff.”

            I looked at the kid and nodded “Sure, I can do that. But it’s not that hard to learn. I think I have my old handbook I can loan you if you want to read it. Most of the stuff in there is pretty basic…”

            “Yeah, that would be cool.” He interrupted me his voice filled with hope and his eyes filled with eagerness. “When can I get it?”

            “Um, well, I am supposed to be back home in a couple days so I will get it then.”

            “Oh, ok.” He said a bit defeated.

            “Don’t worry Little Pi, I won’t forget. Besides, something tells me you won’t let me forget.”

            The voices of Kevin and Big Pi started to become apparent and Little Pi got quiet and said softly “You’re right. I won’t.

            “Hey knuckleheads… What’s going on?” Kevin questioned.

            “Not much, just getting to know each other a bit. What took you two so long?”

            “We were talking about what to do tomorrow. Big Pi suggests we go get the bikes and take you to the dunes for some riding. You do know how to ride don’t you?”

            “Matter of fact, I do.” I said.

            “Alright!” Little Pi shouted. “Tomorrow is going to be awesome!”

            “Calm down man, it’s not like you haven’t ridden before.” The older Pi said as he sat down next to his brother.

            “What are the dunes?” I asked and for the next several hours my new pals regaled me with stories of their adventures on dirt bikes jumping mile long pits of death and sending rooster tails of sand a hundred feet in the air with the machines.

            By the time we went to bed the moon had risen to its apex and started to fall into the waiting arms of the trees that surrounded us. I can’t speak for my fellow campers but my dreams were filled with exhaust fumes and screaming motors.

Snug Harbor Part 3

Friends...they cherish one another’s hopes. They are kind to one another’s dreams.
Henry David Thoreau

I watched Kevin walk down the path and I had every intention of packing up my gear and either move to a new, more secluded spot or head home. Then, as Kevin disappeared into the brush on the other side of the pond, I remembered something very important. Something that was said by Ralph Waldo Emerson and I can only assume that when he said it, he was speaking of his good friend Henry David Thoreau. What he said was “The only way to have a friend is to be one.”

So instead I grabbed my fishing gear and headed back to my fishing spot. I cast my lure into the water, set the line and secured the rod and reel to the shore and went to set some snares and traps in the hopes of catching some tasty yet elusive four legged creatures. Once the traps were set I checked to my fishing rod to see if I’d caught anything, there was a fish on the lure so I removed it and put the fresh catch on a stringer and recast my line. I then spent the next hour gathering wood as much wood as I could to last me through the night. Throughout these chores I would occasionally check my fishing rod, I was quite successful. My fishing stringer had four respectable size fish on it and I knew I would sleep with a full stomach and wake up to a decent breakfast.

The sun had been steadily sinking towards the horizon and the afternoon’s breeze had begun to cool. The warmth of my fire was had become more and more welcoming. I took one last walk down to my fishing spot to retrieve my gear and I saw the tip of my rod dancing nervously in the air. I hurried my pace so I would not lose a meal.

“Skip!” a voice called out to me as I began to reel in my catch. I turned to my left and saw Kevin approaching my camp. He was not alone; there were two other kids with him. Each one looked as if they were carrying enough camping equipment and supplies for a week.

“Hiya Kev.” I shouted as my prey began to fight a bit on the end of the eight to ten pound test line. “Be with you in a bit. I’m a little busy here.”

By the time I got my new fish in, threaded on the stringer and my fishing gear loaded up, my three new camp mates were unpacking their equipment and pitching their tents. And as I approached I noticed one of the kids was remarkably smaller then Kevin and his other friend.

“Hey, Skip, um… look, I brought along two buddies of mine. I hope you don’t mind.” Kevin said as I set the stringer of fish next to the campfire and headed toward my tent. I rested my fishing rod against a tree and put my tackle box in the tent and reached under my sleeping bag for my pack of Marlboro’s, pulled one out and lit it up. As I emerged from the tent I saw Kevin and his two pals standing by the fire staring at me.

“I thought you said all your friends were in Green Bay.” I stated.

“Yeah, they were, but Big Pi and Little Pi had to come home early cause their sister got sick.”

I looked at the two kids standing next the left of Kevin looked almost identical, they both had short dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin and were dressed in the summer uniform of kids across America since the 1920’s, blue jeans and t-shirts. The taller of the two, “Big Pi” had a Pink Floyd shirt on, ratty jeans and an almost worn out pair of Chuck Taylors. “Little Pi” was wearing a “7-Up” t-shirt, jeans and an identical pair of Chucks, albeit a few sizes smaller.

“Guys, this is Skip.” Kevin said and he gestured towards me “He’s from Green Bay and moved here a while back. Skip, this is Kevin Pietroski” and he gestured towards the taller of the two brothers “and his younger brother David Pietroski. But we just call them Big Pi and Little Pi for short. Besides, I was the first Kevin on the block so he gets the nickname.” Kevin said as he pumped his thumb toward Big Pi’s chest.

“Nice to meet you Skip.” Big Pi said as he stepped forward and offered his hand to me. “Kevin said you were pretty cool and weren’t too concerned about the Rangers fucking with you out here. We thought it would be cool to come out here and check things out. Hope you don’t mind.”

I shook his hand and nodded “Nice to meet you… don’t mind at all.” I stammered. What could I say? Go home? Get the fuck out of here? Leave me alone? Who do you think you are? I knew if I said any of those things I would be alienated and labeled an asshole. And since this was really my first contact with anyone close to my age and near my neighborhood I did not want to be known as a freak or a creep.

As Big Pi stepped back I looked towards his younger brother, the kid was standing with his back to the fire but instead of facing me he was staring at the fish flopping on the ground where I had left them. Big Pi cuffed his brother on the back of his head “Ow! Wachoo do that for?” Little Pi shouted as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Introduce yourself to Skip you little shitheel or I’ll smack ya again.” Big Pi warned.

The kid looked up at me and nodded his head at me, a simple sign of acknowledgment and respect “Sup Skip?” he said “Names David but everyone calls me Little Pi, you got another smoke?”

I nodded back to him, took a puff on my cigarette and handed it to him. “Nice to meet you Little Pi, you can finish this one.”

“Thanks man. Hey, you really catch all those fish yourself?” He said as he exhaled the smoke and pointed to the fish on the ground with his foot.

“Sort of, they actually catch themselves for me.” I said as I headed back to my tent to get my smokes. “You see, fish aint to bright and they’ll bite on anything if you leave it alone long enough. So, all I do is cast my lure into the water with a bobber on the line and let the lure float around. Then, I go do other stuff so I don’t scare the fish or get too bored. I just check on the line every now and then and sometimes there is a fish, sometimes there isn’t.” I ducked into my tent, grabbed my pack and my lighter.

As I was turning around I saw Kevin was bent over in front of my tent. “Hey man, we cool? I mean, I know you kind of wanted to be alone and everything but when I got home I saw the Pi’s were pulling into their driveway and well, you know… one thing led to another and so here we all are.”

“It’s cool Kev. Don’t worry about it. But you’re going to clean the fish.”

“Shit. Ok.” He said and started to back out of the tent. “Um, Skip?”

“Yeah Kevin?”

“How do you clean a fish?”

Snug Harbor Part 2

Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after.
Henry David Thoreau

The interloper who had invaded my sanctuary turned and looked at me as I hurried towards where he stood. “Hey man, what’s going on?” he called to me as he continued to reel in my fishing line.

“What are you doing with my gear?” I angrily asked.

“Nothin’ man, relax, I saw the bobber jumping up and down so I thought I’d help you out by reeling in the fish. I saw you were busy over at your camp site. You know, you can’t camp here right? The game wardens will arrest you if they catch you.”

“I wasn’t planning on getting caught.” I said defensively as the interloper pulled a three pound bass out of the water with my rod and reel.

The boy with the fish, my fish, held the flopping, twisting creature out for me to see. “It’s a nice one.” He commented and then added “Names Kevin but everyone calls me Kev.”

I reached out and grabbed the fish, pulled out my needle nose pliers from my back pocket and gave the fish a good thump on the head, right between the eyes. The fish stopped moving and I then used the pliers to pull the hook out of its mouth. “I’m Skip, and everyone calls me Skip. Thanks for reeling in my lunch.” I said. I was still upset with Kevin; I had always been told you never touch another man’s fishing line, even if it meant losing the catch. Apparently Kevin didn’t know this rule or he chose to ignore it.

“Wait man, you gonna eat that thing?” He asked me.

“Yeah,” I replied as I stood up and headed over to my campsite. “I don’t see why not. There’s no marks on it and I don’t see any signs saying I can’t.”

Kevin followed. “Yeah but, I mean, the smell of your fire and the fish cooking…”

I turned and looked at him “What?”

“It might attract animals and stuff. There’s supposed to be bears and shit in these woods. Besides, no one ever camps here and if the Rangers catch you they’ll throw you in juvie.”

We stood there facing each other, I was new to the area and clearly Kevin had been here for a while. Although I had never seen him and I didn’t think he lived in my neighborhood I had to at least try and listen to what he was saying, but I couldn’t appear to be wimp. “Look Kevin, my family and I moved here almost a year ago and I’ve been traipsing through these woods since that day. I’ve yet to see a Ranger, let alone any signs of one. Not on the fire road, not in the fire towers and not at this pond. Hell, if they had been around here they would have left some sign. By since there is no sign of them, nor are there any tire tracks on the fire road, I’d say I’m pretty safe.”

“What about the animals?”

“What about them? If I see a rabbit, I’ll shoot it and eat it. If I see a bear, well I’ll swim into the middle of the pond and wait until he leaves.” I said, my voice full of as much confidence as I could muster. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got to gut and scale my lunch before the flies get here.” I turned and finished my walk to my fire pit. I knelt down and started to clean my fish.

Just as I had finished gutting the fish Kevin sat down on the other side of the fire from me. “You really aint scared?” he asked.

“Nope.” I answered as I cut off the head of the fish. “I’ve seen no reason to be.” I set Mr. Lunch in my frying pan and pulled out a small bottle of vegetable oil from my back pack and poured it on the fish and in the pan, then I added some salt and pepper and set my lunch on the steel cooking grate over the fire. Within minutes the smell had my stomach rumbling.

“That sure smells good.” Kevin said. I looked at him, his eyes were wide and he was smacking his lips.

“You want some?”

“Sure, if you don’t mind. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“Ok. Why don’t you go get my tackle box while I finish cooking it and then we will eat.”

Kevin stood up and headed to where we had left the fishing gear. As he walked away I wasn’t sure I liked him or if we’d even be friends but I was lonely and having someone to talk to always helped pass the time. By the time he had returned with my tackle box I had convinced myself that he could hang out with me until he left, and then I was going to pack up my gear and find another place to camp. A more secluded place.

As he set the tackle box down next to the tent he said “Man, that fish smells even better. Is it done yet?”

“Almost ready, you don’t camp much do you?”

“Nah, we live out here in the country but the only camping we do is in the back yard. My parents would freak if I came out here for a night. Don’t your parents care?”

“Don’t really know. Truth is, I really haven’t seen much of them since we moved here. My mom works in Green Bay and her husband works in Crivitz. They leave early in the morning and come home late at night.”

“Don’t you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Three sisters, but they are off doing their own thing.” I said as I scooped the fish out of the frying pan and set it on a plate. “I’ve only got one plate hope you don’t mind sharing it. I didn’t really plan on having company.”

“I don’t mind.”

“And I only have one fork so we have to share that too. You can eat first.” I said as I poured some of the water from the pot into the pan so I could clean once it cooled off a bit.

Kevin took the plate and fork and shoved some of the fish into his mouth “Hottohohohohhotttt.” He yelled with a mouth full of fish.

I couldn’t help but laugh at him. His mouth was open, and bits of fish had fallen onto his chin and shirt as he tried cooling his mouth down by fanning a hand in front of his face. “You have to blow on it. I just finished cooking it. Damn, aint you ever eaten at a campfire before?”

I went into my tent and grabbed my canteen of water and walked back over to Kevin, I opened it up and handed it to him. “Don’t drink it all, just a few sips, it’s all the fresh water I have until I boil some more.” Kevin took the canteen and took some sips and handed the tin can back to me.

“Thanks, you could have warned me it was going to be hot.”

“Man, it just came off the fire, what made you think it was going to be cool?”

I screwed the top back on my canteen and put it away. As I sat down I saw Kevin was blowing on the fish trying to cool it down. “You come out here often?” I asked.

Kevin looked up at me over a forkful of fish “Not really, I was bored and all my buddies are in Green Bay today, so I went for a walk and ended up here. What about you? Do you come here a lot?”

“Nah, only a dozen or so times.” I lied for no reason and then added “But this is my first time camping out here.” As if my admitted truth would cancel out the blatant lie I had just told. “When do you have to be home?” I asked trying to change the subject.

“Around three or three-thirty, my folks like me to be home for dinner and in by dark, unless I’m spending the night in the backyard or at one of my friend’s house.” He answered and handed me the plate with the half eaten fish on it.

I dug into the fish slowly, picking out bones and throwing them into the fire. Kevin picked up a stick and poked the embers and burning logs a bit causing the flames to rise. When I finished eating I took my plate and skillet to the pond and cleaned them out. Kevin followed me and watched everything I did.

“How did you learn to do all this stuff?” He asked me as we walked back to the tent.

“I was in the boy scouts when I was younger. We went camping a lot and when I stopped going to the meetings, me and my buddies would camp out at some of the parks in Green Bay.”

“They let you camp in public parks?”

“No one let us do anything, we just did it.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Say, you wouldn’t mind if I went home and got some fishing gear and came back and hung out some more would you?”

“Nah, I guess it’s cool. It’s not like I have any plans or anything.”

“Cool, I’ll be back in a bit then.” He said and took off towards the other side of the pond.

Snug Harbor

Once again I am going to take you all on a journey of my youth. Some of you, my Dear Readers, will remember the Fish and Finn stories from the past two years. This is another glimpse into my youth only it takes place about three years after my family and I had moved out of Green Bay. This is going to be a series so make sure to come back and discover what misadventures I am up to.

Enjoy.

Sometimes in our lives
We all have pain
We all have sorrow

But if we are wise
We know that there's
Always tomorrow

Lean On Me

By; Bill Withers

It was 1982, my mother was newly married to her second husband and they had moved me and my sisters out of Green Bay and into rural Wisconsin. We had all left behind everything we knew about our lives and where we fit in the world. Our friends, our enemies and even a part of ourselves, quickly became ghosts of memories. These ghosts seemed to become friendlier and kinder as the distance from the reality of our former lives increased.

Our move took place in stages, the first of which was to sell the house in Green Bay and move to a temporary home while our new home was being built. While in the temporary home, in a small northern Wisconsin town mostly populated by second and third generation Polish immigrants, we tried to make friends and fit into the new community. I met a few kids my age and attempted to befriend them, which ended in a disastrous night that involved some purloined alcohol, plants from Mexico, girls, and an abandoned school.

This is not about that night, nor is it about the first stage of moving. This is about the second stage. A stage, where we all moved into a house in a new neighborhood with, as I recall, only three other homes that had kids in the general age vicinity of me and my two older sisters. Don’t misunderstand me, there were several housing developments within five miles of our new home looking to change its image, yet they mired in its geriatric memories of a more innocuous time.

I can’t speak for my sisters in how long it took them to make friends and fit in with others in our new surroundings, but I know it took me only a few weeks of exploring the woods and surrounding areas to meet a gang of scruffy, outdoor, latchkey kids who had similar interests in life as I did.

Interests… I suppose that’s what you could say bonded us together.

I met Kevin while I was swimming, fishing, hunting and camping on the reforestation property. I wasn’t supposed to be there, but then again, I didn’t really care. I was pretty unhappy in my life, where I was, and my inability to fit in with the people around me. I was like a schooner stuck at sea with no wind. I was floundering in teenage awkwardness and the people I had relied upon for years were in Green Bay. Living their lives, and offering the emotional support that only close friends, who’ve been tried by the fires of life can present.

So, alone, angry, misplaced, frustrated and misunderstood, I did the only thing I knew how to do. I withdrew from my family. I would like to say I felt a certain amount of pain and loss when I withdrew, but I did not. It had been years since I felt close to the people I shared square footage and holidays with. I really had nothing in common with them. My mom worked and in her off time she was trying to be the good wife, my sisters were busy with their own friends and boyfriends and my latest father figure never really struck me as sincere when he and I hung out together.

So, with my copies of “On the Road” and “Call of the Wild” along with my fishing rod, camping back-pack, my pup-tent, two packs of Marlboro red’s and a map of all the hiking trails within a twenty mile radius, I headed out on what was supposed to be a three day respite from my uncomfortable life and into a wilderness where I felt comfortable and at home. The only thing I left behind was a note on my bed, so that anyone in my family who was interested in my whereabouts would know I had gone off on another camping excursion.

I entered the reforestation property through a break in the barbed wire fence that separated our neighbor’s yard from the fire access road of the state protected land. Once on the fire road it only took me minutes to locate the deer trail that led to the pond where I knew I would be spending the next few days communing with nature.

I had discovered the pond shortly after my first visit to the site where our house had been built. While my family was walking the land and my mom’s second husband was pacing out the footprint of the house, I snuck away to explore my future surrounding. It was early spring when we did this, so early the trees had yet to start decorating themselves from the previous falls shedding of leaves. The bareness of the woods and slowly melting snow made it easy to spot animal droppings and tracks. In no time at all I found a small path off the fire road and headed down it.

Walking down the winding trail I spotted signs of deer, raccoon, squirrels, chipmunks and opossum. I also discovered some large droppings which gave me a start, since I assumed they belonged to fiercer and more protective animals that I had overheard some of the kids at school talking about… bears. I scanned the woods looking for signs of any creature close to me, but I knew in my mind I had been making too much noise while stomping through these unfamiliar woods for anything, large or small, to stick around and witness the source of the noisy visitor.

But knowing something in your head and feeling something else in the pit of your stomach are two totally different things. I could feel my heart start to race, sweat started to form on my forehead and I knew I was becoming skittish myself. I tried calming myself down and continued to walk down the path. I listened out for any large creatures tearing through the woods and slowed my pace a bit. Within ten to fifteen minutes I had put a good distance between me and the evidence of a larger species. I was just getting comfortable on the trail again when I came upon a copse of trees and I saw the path I was on took a left turn not far after the evergreens ended.

As I approached this turn I slowed my pace even more, it was a blind turn and in my young mind a family of bears had set up an ambush for me and as soon as I turned the corner they would pounce upon me and have a nice Skip-flavored snack to help bolster the loss of energy from the winter hibernation. (Like I said, I was a bit naïve in some of my animal knowledge and the fact I had all the horror stories from the kids at school racing through my mind didn’t help my mental state either.)

As I slowly rounded the trees, I could see where some bushes and bramble had encroached on the path. I could also see tufts of fur and hide stuck on some of the sturdier branches. It appeared many of the creatures used this trail and as evidence I promptly stepped in some fresh droppings of one them. I let out a quite curse and wiped my shoe off on some semi-decayed leaves. When I had finished I heard a sound I was not expecting.

Splashing.

As I turned to look down the path, I saw through the skeletal remains of brush a pond with fish jumping out of the water and into the asphyxiating oxygen of the day. I rubbed my eyes and shook my head a bit. Sure, I’d seen fish break the surface of their sanctuary in the past, but this was different, it seemed as if there was some sort of contest being held by the local chapter of Large Mouth Bass Union Local 4156. When one fish broke the water and twisted its body in an acrobatic display of Olympic proportions, another quickly followed suit. But with more style and energy than its predecessor had shown, as if they had to outdo each other, or else they would perish.

Fascinated, I hurried my pace so I could witness more of this odd and captivating behavior. I did not notice I had walked past the copse of pine trees, nor did I notice I had stopped at the edge of the water and my feet were getting soaked. I can’t say how long I stood watching this conduct, but it was the bone numbing coldness of my saturated socks that broke my reverie. I quickly turned and raced my way back to where my family was, hoping they had not noticed I had disappeared.

I needn’t have worried.

This was to be my sixth visit to my own private “Snug Harbor”, as I had come to think of it, since we had moved into the new house. But this was to be my first time spending more than just a day there. I had decided this spot on God’s green and blue marble would be my “Walden”, my safe place to call my own, but like most things in life, it didn’t quite work out that way.

It didn’t take me long to get there, but it took me longer to set up camp. On my previous excursions to my isolated sanctuary I had built a fire pit near several pine trees and I had cleared a patch of earth big enough to pitch my tent but within twenty feet of the pond. Once the tent was up, my bedroll laid out I went right to work getting a decent fire going and making sure my Boy Scout pots and pans were clean and ready for use.

Once the necessary chores were finished, I checked my BB gun to make sure it was loaded, checked my tackle box for proper lures and headed down to the pond to try and catch a proper lunch instead of eating some of the canned goods and sandwiches I’d brought as emergency rations. It was the last thing I wanted to do. I also took my Boy Scout pot to fill with water so I could boil it and then drink it later.

I had just finished getting a pot of water over the fire and had headed back to where I’d left my fishing rod when I someone standing right where I had left my fishing gear. This guy had my fishing rod in his hand and it looked as if he were reeling in my line. My sanctuary had just been invaded and I did not like it one bit.

“HEY! What the hell are you doing?” I called.

Guilty Pleasures

Yes, we all have them and I’m not talking about eating some Ben & Jerry’s ice cream every now and then or going to see a sappy movie once a year. I’m speaking about something you as a person stand completely against yet every now and then you come across the exception to your own personal rules. For instance, if you are a woman and dislike violent movies but whenever “Fight Club” comes on TV, you shelf those beliefs and gawp at a half naked Brad Pitt dressed like a thrift store reject beating the hell out of another human being. Or if you’re a guy who dislikes romance movies or anything fluffy and feel good but you secretly own a copy of “Titanic” (The worst film ever made in my opinion). These are the guilty pleasures in which I speak.

Now, I really don’t have any chick flicks I watch but what I do have is music. Yes, music. Now, I love rock and roll, metal, blues based rock, the blues, jazz, opera, some rap, and classical. I like to think I have a very well rounded musical taste and selection… call me musically eclectic if you will. Now, you may notice I don’t have any “Soft” jazz or “Smooth” jazz, hip-hop, pop, top-40 or even love songs on my list. This is because I don’t like those things, this does not mean I don’t or can’t appreciate them, they just don’t feel right to me when listening to them.

Does this mean I’m soft? Nah, I don’t think so, and the fact that the only time I actually listen to broadcast radio is when I’m at my part time job as a waiter. You see, most of the time I listen to my Zune… its Microsoft’s version of the iPod but without all the snootiness and dancing around. Now, I have over seventy-five thousand plays on my Zune and I have made over twenty-five playlists that seem to cover all my moods all the time. Also, I have complete control over what I get to listen to. None of the stuff I don’t like and all of the stuff I love is on that sixty-four giga-byte beauty of a modern marvel. But… there is one song I want on my Zune, and one song that seems to make me stop doing whatever it is I am doing and listen to the lyrics. Why? Because they are so damn well written and descriptive and I am going to write them here for you, my dear reader, I am going to get rid of the chorus though because that is one part of the song that irritates me.

Welcome to my Guilty Pleasure Song.

Enjoy.

Shadow’s grow so long before my eye

And they’re moving across the page

Suddenly the day turns into night

Far away from the city.

Moon appears to shine and light the sky

With the help of some firefly’s

Wonder how they have the power to shine, shine, shine

I can see them under the pine.

I can see the sunset in your eyes

Brown and gray, blue besides

Clouds are stalking islands in the sun

I wish I could buy one

Out of season.

Yes, the song is “Baby, I Love Your Way” by Peter Frampton. And yes, Frampton is rock. But that song is not. If you say it is, and I agreed with you, then we’d both be wrong. BILYW is a love song and I don’t like them, but the descriptive lyrics are amazing, especially the opening line, which hits me in the chest like a .12 gauge shotgun slug every time I hear it. Don’t hear what I’m not saying, this song doesn’t choke me up, it doesn’t make me cry, but what it does do is paint a mental picture of a man who is lonely, far away from his home and misses his lover. This, to me is brilliant and no matter how many times I hear it I get the same mental picture.

And when words can do that to a person, to me, then I know there was some strong JuJu going on when the writer put his pen to paper. This fascinates me and gives me hope that someday I will be able to catch that elusive bolt of lightning and whip up my own bitches brew of majic.

What is your guilty pleasure? What sort of majic would you like to create? Let me know.

Atrophied Bravery

Last week I was on a forced vacation. Now, by forced I mean that I have accrued so much vacation time that if I don’t take some time off of work, my job will take the time away from me. They won’t pay me for it either. So my supervisor took it upon herself to assign me some much needed time off. I didn’t argue or disagree, I just took the time. Unfortunately I was a bit ill during my down time and I ended up sleeping on the couch or in bed the whole week.

I’m not one to just sit around and do nothing. I normally like to stay busy in my daily life but when I am immobile I am usually found with my laptop in front of me or a good book. (Ok, sometimes a not-so-good book) By Wednesday afternoon I was sick of being sick, had not much of a voice left and was burnt out on television and computer time so I decided to do a bit of cleaning around the house. I grabbed my trusty dust bunny catcher and went on the hunt of those elusive beasties that seem to disappear into the cracks and crevices of the wooden floors of my home. This is of course after I’ve chased them down the hallway and into a bedroom, bathroom, dining room, living room or kitchen. But on this particular hunt one decided to hide under my bed. A well known breeding ground of dust-bunnies across the seven continents and even space, or so I’ve been told by some semi-lucid, absinthe filled astronauts who like to wear diapers as the cross our country in search of lost loves.

(Sidetracked)

I spied this obscenely pregnant dust-bunny attempting to squeeze its amble rump under my bed in an attempt to hide from me. I quickly leapt across the room with my electro-statically charged dust-bunny collector in my fully extended arms hoping my five foot eleven inch frame was close enough to capture this indomitable beast.

As I landed face first next to the bed, the bunny temporarily trapped in the force field of charged ions known world-wide as a “Swiffer” my celebratory elation was short lived as I witnessed my prized beastie attempting to break free. As my eyes adjusted to the shadows under the bed my eyes focused on a stack of long forgotten pulped paper. I searched my memory as to what books I may have stored under my nightly support but I those vaporous reminders of my past were as elusive as the dust-bunnies I’d been chasing.

I set aside my cleansing weapon and crawled further under the bed in an attempt to reach the stack of forgotten memories. The lack of light and my aged eyes did not allow me to determine what books I was reaching for and as my left hand landed on top of the stack of slick, soft cover paper and a flood of joy and laughter filled my brain. (This is the curse of having a tactile memory.) I knew as soon as my hand touched the first book what the entire stack contained and I could not help but smile to myself and extract myself quickly from the fibrous underbelly of my box-spring mattress.

I sat up and leaned against my nocturnal comfort and looked at the forgotten treasures that I was placing in my lap. They were of course my omnibuses of some of the best cartoon strips from the 1980’s, Calvin and Hobbes, Doonesbury and my all time favorite, Bloom County. I flipped through the ten pound stack of published goodness and pulled out my favorite of them all. Billy and the Boingers. A book that tells the tale of a death metal band called Deathtongue who gets dragged before the Tipper Gore run PMRC for lyrics of an obscene nature. I remember when the strip first was published how I rooted for the fictional band to stand up for its artistic rights and fight the good fight. But, like real life, the band buckled and they changed their name to Billy and the Boingers, a new political band that is dedicated to helping fix society’s problems through charity and awareness.

But the book held more than just that one story line, there were satires based on the Meese commission, Lee Iacocca, the iron curtain, and of course the wayward travels of the Starship Enterpoop to the lusty, busty and wanton planet of Mary Lou Retton clones… I’m smiling as I type this on my front porch because my frontal lobes are filled with a little ol’ lady screaming “Shut Up Lloyd and arm the photon torpedo tubes!” as she sits in her Chrysler K car with a wheel chair barreling down a hill towards them with Cutter John, Opus, Hodge-Podge and Portnoy screaming for death and vengeance of the occupiers of the Klingon K car.

Yes, I had been truly sidetracked that day and in the days that followed I managed to revisit some of my teenage and early twenties friends from the inky pages of the daily rags that ended up on my porch. I laughed at Calvin’s snowmen, was nervous about what was hiding in Brinkley’s “Anxiety Closet” and cheered when Cutter John was released from the clutches of certain doom from the KGB in Soviet Russia.

When I finished my journey to the eighties I went to the internet to see what sort of madness the modern kiddies are reading, I am sorry I did. The only two strips that seemed to catch my attention were “The Boondocks” and “Luann”. Yes, Doonesbury is still out there and still fun but I think it has lost a bit of its impact on American Politics. (Besides, “The Duke” seems a bit… sad. Sorry to all my HST fans out there. I am disappointed too.) Yes, it seems the great tales in the daily papers have faded out through attrition. I know it is not an easy task to maintain the fires of vigilance against our elected officials and their endless antics in this world. But you would think that someone somewhere would pick up the fallen crown of daily strip satire.

While I wait for someone to be brave enough to fight back against the government, Hollywood, lawyers and big business I think I will go and read the entire catalog of “The Boondocks” I like these characters and the writer is not afraid… of anything.