Mean old Mr. Rupnik
The crick that Billy and I sailed our boat on was at the bottom of our property. Mean old Mr. Rupnik owned it. He even put up a barbed wire fence to keep Billy and me out. At least that’s what I thought. He was in his 20’s I would guess, and he rode a real big macho horse. He raised cows in his big pasture up the hill behind our house. He loved to chase us kids off his property. He was really mean. Once he threw cow poop on Bobby MacDonald. No, wait a minute. That was my father who did that. Bobby threw a cow pie at him and then started running. Bobby was a teenager, and he was pretty fast. My old man slowly picked up a pie while Bobby was running down the hill. He lofted that pie, it must have sailed fifty feet or so, and it hit Bobby right in the back of his neck. I was very proud of my pop. It was Billy who got it from Mr. Rupnik.
Billy and I and my sister built a dam across the creek so we had about ten inches of water to float our boat. The crick was fed from a spring house on our neighbor’s property. Maybe that belonged to Mr. Rudolph up the hill. I forget. It was the best tasting water I ever in my life drank. The spring fed the crick, and just over our property line there was a tree with a Tarzan vine that I loved to swing on. I would follow the crick down through the woods. I had route that I used every time. I went across the crick, into some trees and then down through a skunk cabbage patch. After that there were more trees along the crick bank till I got to another spring. God knows how old it was. There was an iron pipe jutting out of the hill. Then the crick wound its way down to Henry Segal’s old stone house. Oh, those memories…
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