While we didn’t have a boat on the lake on Scheinman’s Farm, we did have a raft to “mess around” in.” The big boys built this primitive vessel using any logs and lumber they accumulated and then gave it great buoyancy with a huge empty gasoline tank. I was very honored if my big brother gave me a ride around the lake on this raft. We also enjoyed sailing the four inch small canoes we crafted from the birch bark trees (probably a bad idea for the beautiful tree's longevity).
Lake? Pond? Most would say it’s their size , a lake is larger; a pond is smaller. That information is wrong; the difference is actually their depth. In a pond, the sun’s rays can reach the bottom. Ponds will often have frogs, turtles, fish, snakes and lots of insects. So, even though it was actually Scheinman’s Pond, to the guests on the farm, it’s the lake down the hill.
The water in this lake was usually warm enough to bathe in and this we did with a bar of soap (ivory, of course). It was far more desirable to use the soap as shampoo in the lake rather than the cold, outdoor shower behind the rooming house known asThe Old House). The house had indoor toilets, but no bathtubs or showers.
A trip to the lake was an every sunny day event from after lunch until almost dinner time. With soap, towel, sand pail, shovel and inflated rubber tube, getting down the hill took time and skill. To the right of the path, was the cows’ grazing meadow. Beware of any cow flop that may have been deposited on the path. In addition, the trip was made barefooted. This was before the era of flip flops and one pair of shoes was all a child might have back at the rooming house (white Griffin shoe polish made then dressy for the sabbath). One had to tread carefully over the many rocks and pebbles jutting out of the soil.
My older brother or sister would accompany me, No lifeguards to supervise; siblings had that role in all families. The parents rarely seemed to use the lake. Momma was busy cooking dinner and baking the pies and cakes in the communal kitchen back in the Old House. Poppa was working in the hot City and would only join us from late Friday (with traffic, it could take more than 5 hours) to early Sunday.
The lake offered a fun waterfall. The farmer had built a 6 foot concrete wall on the right portion of the lake. When the water reached the wall, it went crashing over and created a small magnificent waterfall. The water was shallow at the bottom of the fall. It was so crystal clear you could see the colorful pebbles and small fish on the stream bottom. The cascading waterfall enabled even the little children the joy of standing behind the fall along the concrete wall. Looking through the falling water screen reminded me of the sight my drenched Bronx window made on a rainy day.
A frequent pleasure during our two summer months on the farm was the campfires around the lake. A large circle, framed by rocks was a permanent campsite. The older kids assemble the logs, twigs and newspaper. Someone must have been a boy scout who knew how to get the flames going without rubbing two sticks together. Potatoes (mickies) were baked in the fire and claimed when the flames were extinguished. My brother or sister toasted the marshmallows for me on long twigs. We were admonished to always blow on the crispy, burnt marshmallow before nibbling. Songs were sung; ghost stories were told; I imagine there was some “smooching” going on. The sheer wonderment of the star filled sky remains with me eighty years later. But now it’s time to put out the fire, to gather up the blankets, to find the flashlight and start the trek up the steep hill from the lake.
Ethyl Haber
August 202
No comments:
Post a Comment