CHAPTER 4 BOATS
The next day was Sunday. JohnB loaned me some of his pants and underwear, and I was glad to feel respectable again.
Back in the past we always went to church. We had a good old-fashioned pastor who preached to us out of the Bible. He told us about a big peace and safety movement coming soon in the world that would fool many nations. He had already warned us about the new money system long before it happened. His preaching made some of the people mad, and they didn't come back. We couldn‘t believe it when we heard that he had committed suicide -- or the newspaper said he had.
The new minister who took over the church was very polished. After a few weeks he politely invited us to attend some other church. We were stunned! We didn’t know what we had done.
Mom and Dad suffered and prayed a lot, but they felt that we should accept it and quietly move on. They wondered if there was some jealousy since we were probably the best workers in the church, and the richest.
We had to drive a long way to find a new church. One Sunday Dad announced that he wasn't going to make the trip again to listen to that sentimental hogwash. In the back of the van we were punching each other’s shoulders, hearing that we wouldn't have to go to church anymore. I guess God was getting us ready for our future.
We couldn‘t exactly go to church, but our parents were determined to make Sundays different, and they stuck with it even up on our mountain. After breakfast, Dad taught us some of the Shorter Catechism. It was all questions, and we had to memorize the right answers. He promised each of us a Swiss Army knife if we would do it and do it right. We knew that Dad was itching to teach us how to whittle. Also, we did a lot of singing out of the old hymnbook. Prayers were short, taking into account young wigglers and skeptical teens.
Mom had made two rules for Sunday; don’t work, and don't try to be good.
"Do you really mean it, Mom?" asked Rooster, with that special shine in his eyes.
"Yep, I found it in the Bible," she said, confirming her authority. "This is the day we are supposed to lean back and let Jesus save us. Isn't that sweet?"
For lunch there was another round of Army food, then it was playtime. Dad got down on his knees with a piece of bark, scraping little roads in the dirt, making tiny bridges, planting twigs for "trees." He had Sol and Rooster making a whole park with picnic areas and campsites. It nearly made me cry to watch my Daddy play. Our disaster was the best thing that ever happened to him.
Monday morning came with birds, sunshine, and excitement. There was chicken stew for breakfast for all us soldiers. Mom and Dad savored their coffee while going over The List.
Dad laced up his boots, had a few hymns, a big family prayer, and started out.
Mom called after him, "Be sure and get some bleach, honey. We don‘t really know if this water is safe to drink. Hope it is easy to find a ride."
We all waved goodbye, wishing we could go, but Dad had big things on his mind and didn't need any of our help.
"What do you want us to do today, Mom?" asked Rooster. He always had energy to burn, but I felt like I was coming down with puberty or something.
"Do you want to go to the river?" she asked. "Go and have yourself some more fun, boys, but please stay out of that nasty mud. You could really use those shots after the stunt you all played the other day. JG, I’m tempted to tell your Scoutmaster that his Eagle has turned into a pig!"
Scopi got the hatchet. Sol took a ball of string and a knife. Rooster brought a towel and more rations. JohnB got some clean water to drink from the spring, and down we went. I took my notebook and pencil.
When we got to the river we agreed on a project: a boat. There had to be some way that we could help Dad get back and forth with all stuff he was planning to buy. He wanted to get tin panels for the roof and Lucite for windows, besides nails, groceries, and clothes.
"Look, boys," JohnB shouted, "see this old set of steps here on the bank? Can't you see a flat-bottomed boat going back and forth, making trips to haul stuff, and looking just like a casket?"
When he got a big idea, he was so enthusiastic that we usually followed meekly along. What else could we do? He said that we could knock off the flat parts and then nail them back along the edges of the big side boards. With some mighty pounding, first to get the thing apart, to straighten the nails, and then to get it back into its new shape, his idea actually worked.
"Resin, boys. We need some pine pitch to put in the cracks," he ordered.
"Clay will work, JohnB. We've got plenty of clay," insisted Scopi.
"Where's Sol?" I asked.
"Well, I don't know," JohnB answered grumpily. "Wasn‘t he here a minute ago?"
"We've been concentrating so much on this boat that we haven't been thinking about anything else," said Scopi.
We yelled, "Sol! Sol! Where are you, buddy?" We began to panic.
"Wait," said Rooster, "be quiet a minute. I think I hear something upstream."
Around the bend here came that kid brother of mine, riding down the middle of the river, poling along with a broken bamboo fishing pole, looking like King Tut coming in from a big victory.
"Sol! What‘s holding you up? How did you ever think of such a thing?" we asked.
"It's a jug-a-maran. I made it up. It really works," he grinned. "See, I just threaded those empty milk jugs on these poles and lashed them together with my string like you showed me, JG, from the Scout book."
We all wanted to take a turn. It wasn't going to be much use for hauling cargo, but it was the most fun we ever had, riding around on milk jugs in the Bad Old River!
By the time we heard the truck coming, we had caulked up the casket with enough pitch to make it watertight.
Dad was amazed by our work. When we brought him over, nice and dry, the cracks began to leak.
"You‘ll need to get some more resin to get it right, boys, but that boat is strong and can do most of the hauling tonight anyhow."
It was our job to take load after load across the river. Dad had even remembered to get me some new underwear.
It was getting too dark for taking everything up the hill. Scopi had the idea of making a storehouse in the old coal mine. We could stuff everything in there since it was near the river, then bring up our loads as needed on a daily basis. Dad was thankful for the suggestion.
By bedtime, everything was put away and we were sitting around our tire, drinking hot chocolate, eating hot dogs, and roasting marshmallows.
Ah, life was good.