"MGG" wrote in news:ZcLQg.5109$7I1.122
@newssvr27.news.prodigy.net:

There's nothing like your first
boat!


I bet your son loved the old boat more than he does the new one everyone is
scared to death they're gonna make that first scratch on. I hate new boats
for that reason. It's a BOAT to enjoy, not a work of art that must be
protected like the Mona Lisa, spending every waking hour polishing and
cleaning and trying to make absolutely sanitary in every way. Oh, I hate
to go aboard those things.

My first boat was a big, ol' oak rowboat from my grandfather, my Chrismas
present when I was 8. Christmas on Owasco Lake in upstate NY is a terrible
time to give a little kid a rowboat. I opened all the presents with my
cousins at my grandparent's house on the lake, always a family reunion if
the snow wasn't too deep to get there. The men would have gone hunting on
my grandfather's dairy farm the day before and spent that day preparing the
pheasants for cooking, a family tradition now long lost.

So, I'm done opening the few presents I got and wondered why my
grandparents hadn't given me anything. After everyone had cleaned up
Grandma's living room and the adults were hugging their coffee cups, my
grandfather calls me over to that wicker rocking chair I grew up in and
hands me this little ring box all wrapped up and says, "Merry Christmas,
Larry". I opened the box and in it was a rusty padlock key on a little
chain. "What does this go to?", I asked. "Oh, you'll have to find a lock
it fits, but it's here at the lake, somewhere.", he said with a smirk at my
dismay.

I tried it in all the locks I could find and it didn't fit. "Wait, I think
the snow may have covered a few more.", he said. The men went out to his
odd little double garage, one side for the car and his workbench, the other
side a little garage to store the boats in winter. They shoveled the new
snow away from the garage so the door would open, and the key fit
perfectly, of course. OPening the door, I found the old oak rowboat, all
restored in secret by my grandfather.

It was painted the same green as the tables at our state park because my
grandfather knew someone. The gunwale and inside was sanded and varnished
to a beautiful shine, hundreds of tiny wooden ribs perfectly curved to fit
the hull which formed the deck. There were 3 seats. One to sit and steer
the outboard tiller, one in the middle to row with the matching varnished
oars in there gleaming brass oarlocks and a little one up in the bow. On
the stern was an antique Elto tiny outboard motor I learned in the spring
would bite you really hard if your and got too far over the gas tank near
the spark plug's knurled screw that held the spark wire onto. Of course,
the rope wrapped around the fully exposed flywheel in the little groove to
start it and the spark handle stuck out from under it to set the precision
timing. There was a little cam under it that opened the throttle plate on
the tiny float carb. A one quart gascan for refilling the 1 quart gas tank
I always forgot to open the vent screw on completed the massive 1hp power
plant. One of my grandfather's life-long friends gave him the motor that
had been stored for years. The two of them totally disassembled it and
restored it like new, even finding the Elto logos that made it look
original. I suppose it was as much their boat as it was mine.

They came out several hours later to retrieve me from my Christmas present
before the frostbite killed me. It would be months before the lake melted
enough to roll Grandpa's dock out into the lake on its big steel wheels
before I could launch the boat, having Christmas morning all over again.
Of course, it sank until the wood swelled and sealed itself. I bailed for
days with a coffee can...(c;

I had all the latest safety equipment....a whistle, a floating boat cushion
with two cloth handles, the gas can to get home and a snack from Grandma.

When I joined the Navy in 1964 to avoid being drafted for cannon fodder in
Vietnam, the boat was handed down to my cousin, Stevie, and, like all my
other stuff, disappeared. I don't think I want to know what happened to it
and spoil my memories of the thousands of hours me and my friends spent
tooling around the lake at 5 knots, camping out under it on the rocky shore
a long ways from any camps along the railroad's property on the western
shore. A lot of fish died in that boat, too, big Bullheads on their way to
my grandmother's kitchen.

My mother was horrified but didn't put up much of a fuss, as usual. "He'll
be fine. I taught him.", my grandfather would tell her....(c;

Boot up Google Earth and enter:
Moravia, NY, my hometown. There are two roads leading out of town to the
northwest, one on each side of The Inlet, the creek that feeds Owasco Lake.
Follow the Eastern one towards the lake. Near the SE corner of the lake, a
dirt road forks off to the left and ends up at Southeast-On-Owasco, a
little lake community of shacks and cottages populated in my youth by
factory workers from Smith Corona Typewriters in Groton, NY, and the local
workers and farmers from the town, in the mud choked, leech-infested, weed-
to-wind-up-on-your-prop, Southeast corner of Owasco Lake. Where the road
splits left and right as it enters the community, see that clump of trees
hiding an old two-story cottage straight ahead if you were coming down the
road? That's where I grew up, mostly. From the time I was about 8 or 9, I
rode my bicycle from my parent's home in Moravia's south side, through town
to that lakehouse, and back, probably 3 or 4 times a week. I knew every
farmyard dog that would come out to chase my bike away....(c;

I was the luckiest poor kid on the planet..............
I'm 60, the last one left to go. It's been one helluva ride......
Don't forget to bring your fishin' pole 'cause you CAN'T USE MINE!

Larry,

You may be right. While I do try to take good care of the boat, I'm not a
fanatic like most new boat owners. When we're out, we have fun. If something
gets spilled, we mop it up, and clean it later. If the gelcoat gets
scratched (and it has), I'll try to buff it out, but I won't lose sleep over
it. If you spend more time detailing your boat than having fun in
it...boating's not for you.

That was a GREAT story, BTW. I'm somewhat familiar with the area having
lived in Auburn for a couple of years about 25 years ago. I dated a gal for
a while who's had a place on Skaneatles Lake. Beautiful country...LOUSY
weather I went straight from there to California and never looked back.
That's not entirely true...I do miss all the water in that area.

--Mike

"Larry" wrote in message
...
"MGG" wrote in news:ZcLQg.5109$7I1.122
@newssvr27.news.prodigy.net:

There's nothing like your first
boat!


I bet your son loved the old boat more than he does the new one everyone
is
scared to death they're gonna make that first scratch on. I hate new
boats
for that reason. It's a BOAT to enjoy, not a work of art that must be
protected like the Mona Lisa, spending every waking hour polishing and
cleaning and trying to make absolutely sanitary in every way. Oh, I hate
to go aboard those things.

My first boat was a big, ol' oak rowboat from my grandfather, my Chrismas
present when I was 8. Christmas on Owasco Lake in upstate NY is a
terrible
time to give a little kid a rowboat. I opened all the presents with my
cousins at my grandparent's house on the lake, always a family reunion if
the snow wasn't too deep to get there. The men would have gone hunting on
my grandfather's dairy farm the day before and spent that day preparing
the
pheasants for cooking, a family tradition now long lost.

So, I'm done opening the few presents I got and wondered why my
grandparents hadn't given me anything. After everyone had cleaned up
Grandma's living room and the adults were hugging their coffee cups, my
grandfather calls me over to that wicker rocking chair I grew up in and
hands me this little ring box all wrapped up and says, "Merry Christmas,
Larry". I opened the box and in it was a rusty padlock key on a little
chain. "What does this go to?", I asked. "Oh, you'll have to find a lock
it fits, but it's here at the lake, somewhere.", he said with a smirk at
my
dismay.

I tried it in all the locks I could find and it didn't fit. "Wait, I
think
the snow may have covered a few more.", he said. The men went out to his
odd little double garage, one side for the car and his workbench, the
other
side a little garage to store the boats in winter. They shoveled the new
snow away from the garage so the door would open, and the key fit
perfectly, of course. OPening the door, I found the old oak rowboat, all
restored in secret by my grandfather.

It was painted the same green as the tables at our state park because my
grandfather knew someone. The gunwale and inside was sanded and varnished
to a beautiful shine, hundreds of tiny wooden ribs perfectly curved to fit
the hull which formed the deck. There were 3 seats. One to sit and steer
the outboard tiller, one in the middle to row with the matching varnished
oars in there gleaming brass oarlocks and a little one up in the bow. On
the stern was an antique Elto tiny outboard motor I learned in the spring
would bite you really hard if your and got too far over the gas tank near
the spark plug's knurled screw that held the spark wire onto. Of course,
the rope wrapped around the fully exposed flywheel in the little groove to
start it and the spark handle stuck out from under it to set the precision
timing. There was a little cam under it that opened the throttle plate on
the tiny float carb. A one quart gascan for refilling the 1 quart gas
tank
I always forgot to open the vent screw on completed the massive 1hp power
plant. One of my grandfather's life-long friends gave him the motor that
had been stored for years. The two of them totally disassembled it and
restored it like new, even finding the Elto logos that made it look
original. I suppose it was as much their boat as it was mine.

They came out several hours later to retrieve me from my Christmas present
before the frostbite killed me. It would be months before the lake melted
enough to roll Grandpa's dock out into the lake on its big steel wheels
before I could launch the boat, having Christmas morning all over again.
Of course, it sank until the wood swelled and sealed itself. I bailed for
days with a coffee can...(c;

I had all the latest safety equipment....a whistle, a floating boat
cushion
with two cloth handles, the gas can to get home and a snack from Grandma.

When I joined the Navy in 1964 to avoid being drafted for cannon fodder in
Vietnam, the boat was handed down to my cousin, Stevie, and, like all my
other stuff, disappeared. I don't think I want to know what happened to
it
and spoil my memories of the thousands of hours me and my friends spent
tooling around the lake at 5 knots, camping out under it on the rocky
shore
a long ways from any camps along the railroad's property on the western
shore. A lot of fish died in that boat, too, big Bullheads on their way
to
my grandmother's kitchen.

My mother was horrified but didn't put up much of a fuss, as usual.
"He'll
be fine. I taught him.", my grandfather would tell her....(c;

Boot up Google Earth and enter:
Moravia, NY, my hometown. There are two roads leading out of town to the
northwest, one on each side of The Inlet, the creek that feeds Owasco
Lake.
Follow the Eastern one towards the lake. Near the SE corner of the lake,
a
dirt road forks off to the left and ends up at Southeast-On-Owasco, a
little lake community of shacks and cottages populated in my youth by
factory workers from Smith Corona Typewriters in Groton, NY, and the local
workers and farmers from the town, in the mud choked, leech-infested,
weed-
to-wind-up-on-your-prop, Southeast corner of Owasco Lake. Where the road
splits left and right as it enters the community, see that clump of trees
hiding an old two-story cottage straight ahead if you were coming down the
road? That's where I grew up, mostly. From the time I was about 8 or 9,
I
rode my bicycle from my parent's home in Moravia's south side, through
town
to that lakehouse, and back, probably 3 or 4 times a week. I knew every
farmyard dog that would come out to chase my bike away....(c;

I was the luckiest poor kid on the planet..............
I'm 60, the last one left to go. It's been one helluva ride......
Don't forget to bring your fishin' pole 'cause you CAN'T USE MINE!

"MGG" wrote in
:

That was a GREAT story, BTW. I'm somewhat familiar with the area
having lived in Auburn for a couple of years about 25 years ago. I
dated a gal for a while who's had a place on Skaneatles Lake.
Beautiful country...LOUSY weather I went straight from there to
California and never looked back. That's not entirely true...I do miss
all the water in that area.

I always tell everyone it was a great place to grow up....and a great
place to be FROM.....as long as I don't have to live there, now....

Moravia now has Auburn's disease...a state prison...a huge state prison!
When the political idiots got dollar signs in their heads, they forgot
that prisoners take showers and flush toilets...a LOT! The prisoners got
even inundating the tiny town with enough sewage to just overrun the
place. How stupid. Poor Moravia will never be out little town any
more....economically disasterous and a great place to grow up.

Moravia's fine tourist resort, that was nothing but a row of trailers in
the woods on Lick Street when I was in high school, has grown into a
first class nudist resort....in the summer, I suppose:
http://www.homestead.com/empirehaven/
When I was in Moravia Central School's high school, "scoring" meant
getting your girlfriend to go to Empire Haven for a day...(c;
I see from the new webpage they've gotten their own address, but it's
still on Lick Street up in the state forest on the hill, which is still
very funny. Nice pool!

Back quite a few years when it was three rows of old trailers, I met a
ham radio operator who lived at Empire Haven year 'round. He was in his
70s. So wasn't my widowed grandmother who lived in the lake house until
she was in her late 80's. She moved into the Skaneateles senior citizens
home when her kids put their foot down, afraid she'd fall climbing the
steep stairs to her bedroom on the lake. So.....she told me she was
lonely being all alone, before....so I gave this ham radio operator her
number. He called her and they talked for hours. THEN, she called me
and was laughing so hard she could hardly talk. "I'm not gonna go up
there and get naked with a bunch of old farts!", she told me. He DID put
on his clothes and come visit her many times.... She later fell in love
with an old pensioner at the Skaneateles home who lived down the hall.
She cooked and baked for him, but neither one of them could afford to
lose their SSA money getting married. That love affair went on for years
until he died of a heart attack. She's gone, too, now and I miss her
awful....(snif).

Well, I can see you're checking out the webpages in Moravia....carry
on....(c;

When I call Moravia I always ask them, "What day was Summer, this year??"
Tonight: A chance of showers before 2am, then a chance for sprinkles.
Mostly cloudy, with a low around 46. West wind between 5 and 10 mph.
Chance of precipitation is 30%.

Monday: Partly cloudy, with a high near 59. West wind between 5 and 10
mph.

Monday Night: A chance of sprinkles before midnight. Partly cloudy, with
a low around 44. West wind between 7 and 10 mph.

Tuesday: Partly cloudy, with a high near 63. West wind between 7 and 13
mph.

Brrrr......(shudder)......
They tell me it's great because it keeps the MEXICANS OUT!
They have a point....(c;

Press 1 for English
Press 2 to hang up until you LEARN English
Press 3 for an immigration agent to help you get HOME.

LOL! That about sums up the area. Bummer about the prison though. Small
towns and big prisons are generally not a great mix. I assume however that
the prison helps fill the town's bank account, to lessen the tax burden on
the residents?

I thought of another thing I miss about the area...Field Days! Man, those
were alot of fun. Good, wholesome, small town entertainment.

No shortage of Mexicans here in San Jose, CA...that's for sure. Hell, I'm
married to one (Her mom is Mexican anyway).

--Mike
"Larry" wrote in message
...
"MGG" wrote in
:

That was a GREAT story, BTW. I'm somewhat familiar with the area
having lived in Auburn for a couple of years about 25 years ago. I
dated a gal for a while who's had a place on Skaneatles Lake.
Beautiful country...LOUSY weather I went straight from there to
California and never looked back. That's not entirely true...I do miss
all the water in that area.

I always tell everyone it was a great place to grow up....and a great
place to be FROM.....as long as I don't have to live there, now....

Moravia now has Auburn's disease...a state prison...a huge state prison!
When the political idiots got dollar signs in their heads, they forgot
that prisoners take showers and flush toilets...a LOT! The prisoners got
even inundating the tiny town with enough sewage to just overrun the
place. How stupid. Poor Moravia will never be out little town any
more....economically disasterous and a great place to grow up.

Moravia's fine tourist resort, that was nothing but a row of trailers in
the woods on Lick Street when I was in high school, has grown into a
first class nudist resort....in the summer, I suppose:
http://www.homestead.com/empirehaven/
When I was in Moravia Central School's high school, "scoring" meant
getting your girlfriend to go to Empire Haven for a day...(c;
I see from the new webpage they've gotten their own address, but it's
still on Lick Street up in the state forest on the hill, which is still
very funny. Nice pool!

Back quite a few years when it was three rows of old trailers, I met a
ham radio operator who lived at Empire Haven year 'round. He was in his
70s. So wasn't my widowed grandmother who lived in the lake house until
she was in her late 80's. She moved into the Skaneateles senior citizens
home when her kids put their foot down, afraid she'd fall climbing the
steep stairs to her bedroom on the lake. So.....she told me she was
lonely being all alone, before....so I gave this ham radio operator her
number. He called her and they talked for hours. THEN, she called me
and was laughing so hard she could hardly talk. "I'm not gonna go up
there and get naked with a bunch of old farts!", she told me. He DID put
on his clothes and come visit her many times.... She later fell in love
with an old pensioner at the Skaneateles home who lived down the hall.
She cooked and baked for him, but neither one of them could afford to
lose their SSA money getting married. That love affair went on for years
until he died of a heart attack. She's gone, too, now and I miss her
awful....(snif).

Well, I can see you're checking out the webpages in Moravia....carry
on....(c;

When I call Moravia I always ask them, "What day was Summer, this year??"
Tonight: A chance of showers before 2am, then a chance for sprinkles.
Mostly cloudy, with a low around 46. West wind between 5 and 10 mph.
Chance of precipitation is 30%.

Monday: Partly cloudy, with a high near 59. West wind between 5 and 10
mph.

Monday Night: A chance of sprinkles before midnight. Partly cloudy, with
a low around 44. West wind between 7 and 10 mph.

Tuesday: Partly cloudy, with a high near 63. West wind between 7 and 13
mph.

Brrrr......(shudder)......
They tell me it's great because it keeps the MEXICANS OUT!
They have a point....(c;

Press 1 for English
Press 2 to hang up until you LEARN English
Press 3 for an immigration agent to help you get HOME.

"MGG" wrote in
:

LOL! That about sums up the area. Bummer about the prison though.
Small towns and big prisons are generally not a great mix. I assume
however that the prison helps fill the town's bank account, to lessen
the tax burden on the residents?



Oh, no....the town and village had to go after the residents to repair
and expand the sewage system. When I was growing up, everyone in the
whole valley had septic tanks and drainage fields or cesspools dug in
their yards. The pollution didn't start until Federal bureaucrats forced
them all to abandon what had been working since before the Revolution
just fine and spend billions on a "sewage system" so they could dump all
the **** into the lake inlet, directly. They forced, with their guns,
everyone in the village to "hook up" to the water and sewer system, using
the tax revenooer goons to enforce it, as usual.....

Noone knew the real reason for the deception, the damned state prison
fiasco. Glad I'm no longer there. Of course, all of upstate NY is part
of the "Rust Belt", now. Take Google Earth to Syracuse and have a look
around at the abandoned factories and ghettos. Look at the big open
sewer, where Solvay Process dumped its waste for decades. It looks like
New Jersey....from an Amtrak train.



--
There's amazing intelligence in the Universe.
You can tell because none of them ever called Earth.