Thread: Good Times

We were at the end of the good times.

There were a lot of tiny farm ponds. They were makeshift deals where it looked like somebody used a bulldozer to push dirt, making a hill on one side, which dropped into deep water (5 to 6 feet), and a shallow on the other, which deepened gradually.

The ponds were probably dug in case of fire, but they were chock full of all kinds of fish and frogs.

We gravitated toward those places, and there I spent many an adventure filled day, with a fishing pole, a can of worms, and frogs in my pockets.

Inevitably, a kid or two drowned here and there. I remember riding my bike to a pond one day only to find solid, level ground. I think it was the first time I ever said, "What the ****!!!!"

It wasn't long before I heard the stories about what happened.

With only a few exceptions, all the little places I used to fish as a kid are G-O-N-E ...gone, goodbye, so sad to see you go.

I knew the richness of aquatic abundance in little places. Few people remember it. I still keep my eyes open, looking for it everywhere.

Man...has the world turned for the worse in so few years, yes, yes.