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[Byrnesville, Barnesboro, Summer 1959] Here the three of us are, up behind the Byrnes Hotel, up past the old boney pile, half-way up the hill above Byrnesville, in the meadow above the overgrown pine trees. Tall solitary wildflowers and low dark blueberry bushes are scattered around in knee high yellow-gold grass. Beyond the meadow the dark green of the woods crown and hide the broken and smooth boulders, the hilltop bedrock. Wearing favorite, most comfortable clothes; old t-shirts, blue jeans, and sneakers, Pete, Tony, and Eddie Arthur look for snakes. Straight up in the sky is an intense blue. |
| A few bright, white Idaho potato clouds drift above the rolling horizon. The reward for focused listening is a clear far away shout or bark. On the hour, the quarters, and half hours the chiming of the church bells rang through the hills. If it wasn't St. Edward's Catholic Church making the noise every fifteen minutes, it was one of a dozen other churches chiming in. | |
Monday, June 1. 2009
Snakes on the Hill
Camping Out Boney Pile Style
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[Byrnesville, Summer 1959] It was more of a real camp out this way; the other times were in the backyard with blanket tents held together with clothespins on a rope between a fence post and a tree. Backyard camping wasn't real because of the easy security of being able to walk right into the house during any time of the night. Here though, way up the hill on the flat top of the boney dump, was real camping. |
| The boney pile was old, it was merging again with the hill from which it came, the blackness of coal had been leached out by rain and sun, and plants were making a comeback. Someone loaned us a dark green canvas tent, we spent time making up our beds with blankets, sheets, and pillows borrowed from home. We collected rocks to circle our fire pit and rounded up enough wood for the night. In the afternoon we worried each other about the weather and wondered if it would rain.
We borrowed flashlights and batteries, filled a canteen full of grape soda or orange pop, packed cookies, and a deck of cards. We had an old black iron fry pan and a big pot. We dragged a comfortable log over and placed it for sitting by the fire. We used our pocket knives to cut and sharpen long thin branches from trees for roasting marsh mellows and hotdogs over the fire. | |
Fishing At Thomas Mills
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[Thomas Mills, Cambria County, PA, Early Summer, 1960] Walking through the woods with fishing rods, tackle, and worms are Herman Jerome "Jerry" Byrnes and his nephew Eddie Arthur Byrnes. They are heading toward the Chest Creek at Thomas Mills. Eddie Arthur is crazy about fishing and jumps at the chance to go anytime, anywhere, for any kind of fish. In a year or two Eddie will learn to create his own artificial bait in the form of colorful, patterned feathers | ||
| and thread wound around hooks. A year, maybe two after that, Eddie Arthur wins the 9th grade civics class prize for having the "most unusual" hobby of "tying flies" and using molds to bake rubber baits.
Today though the baits are worms, and it would be a time of fishing not just planning, preparing, or dreaming. They could hear the creek before seeing the rippling water; the overhead trees and bush were the lacy medium green of early summer. They walked quietly; the fish could hear and feel vibrations close to the creek. Working carefully through the excitement; Eddie Arthur attaches a silvery lead sinker and a red and white cork bobber to his hooked line. | ||
