THE WATCHMAN
When I was 12 years old, a buddy of mine and I used to go fishing a lot. My family had moved back to Portage, Pennsylvania (my early childhood home). There wasn't many places to fish at that time, since most of the streams were still polluted by drainage from the coal mines.
About 4 1/2 miles away was a wonderful dam that was owned by the Pennsylvania Railroad. It was used to provide water for their steam locomotives. There was no fishing allowed at the dam. The railroad had hired a caretaker for the dam, who also served as a watchman to keep fishermen away from the dam. But my friend and I knew of places to sneak in and fish. Usually we did fairly well for 2 inexperienced fishermen. But, on days when we had no luck, we would allow the watchman to catch us fishing. It always ended the same way. He would give us a big string of Crappies and tell us to get home.
I often have wondered whether we were a couple of smart boys, or if he could see through it all and was just a nice old man who shared his fish with a couple of boys.
CLYDE
