Marshman: Story #2.

[marshman]

October 21, 2014
Marshman: Story #2.
My Dad & Mom were married fresh out of high school, and WW2 was the order of the day. Dad answered the call, enlisted in the U.S. MARINE CORPS, and was shipped out to the Pacific Theater. I was born ten months later. While dad was fighting the Japanese on those God Forsaken Islands in the Pacific. Mom and I lived with my Grandparents, alternating between her parents in the city and my dad’s in the country. This allowed me to experience the comforts and convenience of the city as well as the freedom and natural wonder of the country. When dad returned home he carried a heavy burden of the horrors he had experienced, but did his best to put the war behind him and make a good life for us all. He and Mom bought a little grocery/general store in the town of NANTICOKE. It was a small rural town located on the shore of the NANTICOKE RIVER. The name NANTICOKE is derived from the Indian tribe which first settled this area. Nanticoke was a wonderful place. The typical ALL AMERICAN town like the ones many of us have a wistful yearning to return too. Even knowing the past is usually irrecoverable we are taken back by a poem by Walter Whitman, a narrative by Samuel Clements, or perhaps a painting by Dave Barnhouse. Even the smell of a wood or coal fire or the hint of sea salt in the air can trigger memories of bygone days. My parents store was located on Harbor Road which was a very busy thoroughfare as the harbor was the center of immense activity. In those days most of the folks in water towns made their living directly from the water by harvesting fish, crabs, mollusks, or indirectly by employment in the various processing, distribution, and support businesses as well as accommodating hunting and fishing parties. The harbor was only about a hundred yards from the store and offered an endless array of entertainment, excitement, education, and was just a super fun place for a little boy and his trusty dog Tippy. I remember the boats coming in from the rivers and bays loaded with all sorts of catch and how the men would joke and laugh as they unloaded their bounty. It was a happy time and a grateful time as the war was over and the future was showing promise. Fall and early winter, before the ice and snow set in hard, was my favorite time of year. I would ride my bike down to the harbor and out on the wharves where boatloads of oysters were being tallied and sold. The air was clean and crisp and almost everywhere you looked waterfowl were on the move. Mom and Pops store was busy too as it was convenient to the harbor traffic and carried a multitude of products. In the evening, after the day’s work was done and the local people had returned to their homes. Oystermen would come in to sit by the wood stove and discuss the world in general while munching on cheese and crackers, smoking, and just enjoying the time away from the confines and isolation of their boat. They were from other parts of the bay, but working the oyster beds in this area. A better bunch of men you will never meet. To my mom’s distress one of them showed me how I could shoot Diamond Matches (trade name) from my BB-gun. The match would ignite on contact with anything with a hard surface. I thought it was cool, but my folks were not happy over my newly acquired knowledge.
Occasionally, on Sunday afternoon while on my daily tour of the harbor I would see barges being loaded with field corn. Golden mountains of it destined for the other side of the river which is a little more than a mile and a half across from the harbor. Once there, it was washed overboard by fire hoses to feed and entice thousands of waterfowl. This was a common occurrence to support the “Sports” (pay to hunt clientele). There were BAITING LAWS in effect, but old habits are hard to break. Consequently, there were many altercations with the Federal Boys often resulting in shots fired and even a spotter plane or two shot down. Duck trapping was also a time honored practice which the Feds were trying to eradicate. The people of THE EASTERN SHORE of MARYLAND & VIRGINIA PENINSULA have for decades freely used and benefited from the rich and vast resources of the Chesapeake Bay. This was their home, their land and they strongly objected to interlopers. Time changed drastically as the isolation of the Peninsula from the mainland was compromised by the construction of the upper & lower Chesapeake Bay Bridges. This allowed easy access to the Del-Mar-Va Peninsula from nearby metropolitan centers. An era was over and I had the privilege of being one of the last to witness its passing. The mind blowing abundance of marine life, waterfowl and wildlife indigenous to the Chesapeake Tidewater and Watershed area was considered by many as an inexhaustible resource. Time has shown us unquestionably that this is not the case. WE MUST respect, protect, and defend our natural resources. WE MUST dig the well BEFORE we are thirsty.

[Duff Beer]

^ To many words...

[The Duck Hammer]

That's awesome. Love your stories. Keep them coming.

[Flightstopper]

Good stuff.

[firstflight]

Great read thanks for sharing.

[Rick]

Is a neat remembrance, but your dad must have been mighty POed when you were born 10 months after he shipped out to the South Pacific.

Sorry, couldn't help myself.

[The Duck Hammer]

Is a neat remembrance, but your dad must have been mighty POed when you were born 10 months after he shipped out to the South Pacific.

Sorry, couldn't help myself.

I had the same thought but didn't want to say anything.

[Rick]

You're a much more polite person than I. No way I could resist.

[The Duck Hammer]

You're a much more polite person than I. No way I could resist.

I haven't been around the block as many times to deplete all my "fucks to give" reserves. I envy you.

[marshman]

October 21, 2014
Marshman: Story #2.
My Dad & Mom were married fresh out of high school, and WW2 was the order of the day. Dad answered the call, enlisted in the U.S. MARINE CORPS, and was shipped out to the Pacific Theater. I was born six months later. While dad was fighting the Japanese on those God Forsaken Islands in the Pacific. Mom and I lived with my Grandparents, alternating between her parents in the city and my dad’s in the country. This allowed me to experience the comforts and convenience of the city as well as the freedom and natural wonder of the country. When dad returned home he carried a heavy burden of the horrors he had experienced, but did his best to put the war behind him and make a good life for us all. He and Mom bought a little grocery/general store in the town of NANTICOKE. It was a small rural town located on the shore of the NANTICOKE RIVER. The name NANTICOKE is derived from the Indian tribe which first settled this area. Nanticoke was a wonderful place. The typical ALL AMERICAN town like the ones many of us have a wistful yearning to return too. Even knowing the past is usually irrecoverable we are taken back by a poem by Walter Whitman, a narrative by Samuel Clements, or perhaps a painting by Dave Barnhouse. Even the smell of a wood or coal fire or the hint of sea salt in the air can trigger memories of bygone days. My parents store was located on Harbor Road which was a very busy thoroughfare as the harbor was the center of immense activity. In those days most of the folks in water towns made their living directly from the water by harvesting fish, crabs, mollusks, or indirectly by employment in the various processing, distribution, and support businesses as well as accommodating hunting and fishing parties. The harbor was only about a hundred yards from the store and offered an endless array of entertainment, excitement, education, and was just a super fun place for a little boy and his trusty dog Tippy. I remember the boats coming in from the rivers and bays loaded with all sorts of catch and how the men would joke and laugh as they unloaded their bounty. It was a happy time and a grateful time as the war was over and the future was showing promise. Fall and early winter, before the ice and snow set in hard, was my favorite time of year. I would ride my bike down to the harbor and out on the wharves where boatloads of oysters were being tallied and sold. The air was clean and crisp and almost everywhere you looked waterfowl were on the move. Mom and Pops store was busy too as it was convenient to the harbor traffic and carried a multitude of products. In the evening, after the day’s work was done and the local people had returned to their homes. Oystermen would come in to sit by the wood stove and discuss the world in general while munching on cheese and crackers, smoking, and just enjoying the time away from the confines and isolation of their boat. They were from other parts of the bay, but working the oyster beds in this area. A better bunch of men you will never meet. To my mom’s distress one of them showed me how I could shoot Diamond Matches (trade name) from my BB-gun. The match would ignite on contact with anything with a hard surface. I thought it was cool, but my folks were not happy over my newly acquired knowledge.
Occasionally, on Sunday afternoon while on my daily tour of the harbor I would see barges being loaded with field corn. Golden mountains of it destined for the other side of the river which is a little more than a mile and a half across from the harbor. Once there, it was washed overboard by fire hoses to feed and entice thousands of waterfowl. This was a common occurrence to support the “Sports” (pay to hunt clientele). There were BAITING LAWS in effect, but old habits are hard to break. Consequently, there were many altercations with the Federal Boys often resulting in shots fired and even a spotter plane or two shot down. Duck trapping was also a time honored practice which the Feds were trying to eradicate. The people of THE EASTERN SHORE of MARYLAND & VIRGINIA PENINSULA have for decades freely used and benefited from the rich and vast resources of the Chesapeake Bay. This was their home, their land and they strongly objected to interlopers. Time changed drastically as the isolation of the Peninsula from the mainland was compromised by the construction of the upper & lower Chesapeake Bay Bridges. This allowed easy access to the Del-Mar-Va Peninsula from nearby metropolitan centers. An era was over and I had the privilege of being one of the last to witness its passing. The mind blowing abundance of marine life, waterfowl and wildlife indigenous to the Chesapeake Tidewater and Watershed area was considered by many as an inexhaustible resource. Time has shown us unquestionably that this is not the case. WE MUST respect, protect, and defend our natural resources. WE MUST dig the well BEFORE we are thirsty.

[marshman]

October 21, 2014
Marshman: Story #2.
My Dad & Mom were married fresh out of high school, and WW2 was the order of the day. Dad answered the call, enlisted in the U.S. MARINE CORPS, and was shipped out to the Pacific Theater. I was born six months later. While dad was fighting the Japanese on those God Forsaken Islands in the Pacific. Mom and I lived with my Grandparents, alternating between her parents in the city and my dad’s in the country. This allowed me to experience the comforts and convenience of the city as well as the freedom and natural wonder of the country. When dad returned home he carried a heavy burden of the horrors he had experienced, but did his best to put the war behind him and make a good life for us all. He and Mom bought a little grocery/general store in the town of NANTICOKE. It was a small rural town located on the shore of the NANTICOKE RIVER. The name NANTICOKE is derived from the Indian tribe which first settled this area. Nanticoke was a wonderful place. The typical ALL AMERICAN town like the ones many of us have a wistful yearning to return too. Even knowing the past is usually irrecoverable we are taken back by a poem by Walter Whitman, a narrative by Samuel Clements, or perhaps a painting by Dave Barnhouse. Even the smell of a wood or coal fire or the hint of sea salt in the air can trigger memories of bygone days. My parents store was located on Harbor Road which was a very busy thoroughfare as the harbor was the center of immense activity. In those days most of the folks in water towns made their living directly from the water by harvesting fish, crabs, mollusks, or indirectly by employment in the various processing, distribution, and support businesses as well as accommodating hunting and fishing parties. The harbor was only about a hundred yards from the store and offered an endless array of entertainment, excitement, education, and was just a super fun place for a little boy and his trusty dog Tippy. I remember the boats coming in from the rivers and bays loaded with all sorts of catch and how the men would joke and laugh as they unloaded their bounty. It was a happy time and a grateful time as the war was over and the future was showing promise. Fall and early winter, before the ice and snow set in hard, was my favorite time of year. I would ride my bike down to the harbor and out on the wharves where boatloads of oysters were being tallied and sold. The air was clean and crisp and almost everywhere you looked waterfowl were on the move. Mom and Pops store was busy too as it was convenient to the harbor traffic and carried a multitude of products. In the evening, after the day’s work was done and the local people had returned to their homes. Oystermen would come in to sit by the wood stove and discuss the world in general while munching on cheese and crackers, smoking, and just enjoying the time away from the confines and isolation of their boat. They were from other parts of the bay, but working the oyster beds in this area. A better bunch of men you will never meet. To my mom’s distress one of them showed me how I could shoot Diamond Matches (trade name) from my BB-gun. The match would ignite on contact with anything with a hard surface. I thought it was cool, but my folks were not happy over my newly acquired knowledge.
Occasionally, on Sunday afternoon while on my daily tour of the harbor I would see barges being loaded with field corn. Golden mountains of it destined for the other side of the river which is a little more than a mile and a half across from the harbor. Once there, it was washed overboard by fire hoses to feed and entice thousands of waterfowl. This was a common occurrence to support the “Sports” (pay to hunt clientele). There were BAITING LAWS in effect, but old habits are hard to break. Consequently, there were many altercations with the Federal Boys often resulting in shots fired and even a spotter plane or two shot down. Duck trapping was also a time honored practice which the Feds were trying to eradicate. The people of THE EASTERN SHORE of MARYLAND & VIRGINIA PENINSULA have for decades freely used and benefited from the rich and vast resources of the Chesapeake Bay. This was their home, their land and they strongly objected to interlopers. Time changed drastically as the isolation of the Peninsula from the mainland was compromised by the construction of the upper & lower Chesapeake Bay Bridges. This allowed easy access to the Del-Mar-Va Peninsula from nearby metropolitan centers. An era was over and I had the privilege of being one of the last to witness its passing. The mind blowing abundance of marine life, waterfowl and wildlife indigenous to the Chesapeake Tidewater and Watershed area was considered by many as an inexhaustible resource. Time has shown us unquestionably that this is not the case. WE MUST respect, protect, and defend our natural resources. WE MUST dig the well BEFORE we are thirsty.

[marshman]

Is a neat remembrance, but your dad must have been mighty POed when you were born 10 months after he shipped out to the South Pacific.

Sorry, couldn't help myself.

Rick, So EMBARRASSED, didn't catch the error, I can hear Mom yelling from her grave.

[The Duck Hammer]

[Rick]

Is a neat remembrance, but your dad must have been mighty POed when you were born 10 months after he shipped out to the South Pacific.

Sorry, couldn't help myself.

Rick, So EMBARRASSED, didn't catch the error, I can hear Mom yelling from her grave.

Glad to see you took my observation in the lighthearted nature it was offered. Have enjoyed your reminisces.

[FlintRiverFowler]

Are you an author? If not you should be.

[Archeryrob]

Great story, but don't be afraid to use the button on the keyboard that says "ENTER" Break it up into a couple paragraphs.

[marshman]

Are you an author? If not you should be.

THANKS for the compliment, but no I am not an author in the context of the published word. I'm just an old guy with a lot of memories and a few stories to tell. Perhaps you could tell me some of your waterfowl hunting experiences in Georgia.

[FlintRiverFowler]

Are you an author? If not you should be.

THANKS for the compliment, but no I am not an author in the context of the published word. I'm just an old guy with a lot of memories and a few stories to tell. Perhaps you could tell me some of your waterfowl hunting experiences in Georgia.

Aren't enough ducks in Georgia to make a story.

[Flightstopper]

Are you an author? If not you should be.

THANKS for the compliment, but no I am not an author in the context of the published word. I'm just an old guy with a lot of memories and a few stories to tell. Perhaps you could tell me some of your waterfowl hunting experiences in Georgia.

Aren't enough ducks in Georgia to make a story.

And we definitely don't need to hear the story again of when you and Olly had to share waders for warmth

[FlintRiverFowler]

Are you an author? If not you should be.

THANKS for the compliment, but no I am not an author in the context of the published word. I'm just an old guy with a lot of memories and a few stories to tell. Perhaps you could tell me some of your waterfowl hunting experiences in Georgia.

Aren't enough ducks in Georgia to make a story.

And we definitely don't need to hear the story again of when you and Olly had to share waders for warmth

Still can't believe he talked me into taking my underwear off....