Grandpa's lessons

Grandpa Smith enjoyed fishing.  He had a small aluminum rowboat which had an outboard motor that he could lift easily on and off the boat.  He kept the engine in the basement of the camp-never left it on the boat unless he was right there with it.  I did not know much, if anything, about horsepower back then.  Now, recalling the ease with which Grandpa carried that motor, I think it must not have been a very
powerful one. However, it scooted that little boat across the water, leaving a tiny wake and delighting me with spray in my face.
 Grandpa would load his fishing pole, tackle box and a red can of gasoline into the boat, which was tied to the wharf.  Then he would bring  out the motor and place it on the back of the boat.    He attached some hoses from can to motor.  Lifting me under the arms, he set me onto a wooden crossboard seat in the middle of the boat. (Yes-I had my life jacket on). He sat in back, yanked on the cord which brought the little motor spluttering to life.  As we headed out into the lake he taught me a song which we sang together with gusto. 

 "My Bonny leaned over the gas tank, the depth of the fluid to see.
She lit up a match to see better.  Oh bring back my Bonny to me."

What Grandparent would teach such a song to a 10 year old!  But I understood the moral of the story even then.  Seventy five years later
I remember that song.  
I have had much larger boats in my lifetime.  You can bet I was very careful about the fuel.  Even with our cabin cruiser, I always vented the bilge before hitting the start button.
I have witnessed a couple of boats catching fire, even one blowing up at the dock on Lake George when someone got careless or just plain had not had a good teacher.
Thank you Grandpa.

Comments

  1. Wendy OlstadJuly 13, 2019 at 8:18 AM

    My paternal grandfather was about as Scottish as it gets. Second generation. His home was all about Scotland. We had our own clan shield and our own clan plaid. We had kilts made in that plaid and were taught to appreciate the bagpipes that hung on the wall. And we all sang the songs that always referred to "Bonny" something. Although this song your grandpa taught you was not in our repertoire it sure did bring back some memories. Thanks

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Cynthia DanielloJuly 13, 2019 at 8:23 AM

      I am of part Scottish ancestry too. My "ancestral name" is Mac Tavish.
      What is yours?

      Delete
  2. PattyJuly 13, 2019 at 8:20 AM

    My earliest memory is of my father and grandfather soaking wood in our bathtub
    for bending and making a small boat. Safe behavior was always drilled into us with
    stern words, humor and any other means they had. Love this story!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Wendy OlstadJuly 15, 2019 at 8:31 PM

    MacBain, and what a beautiful name that is. My great grandfather change it to MacBean to Americanize it. Can you even imagine? I wanted to be a MacBain. I married a Norwegian and now have the name Olstad and I was happy to acquire that. I love the name MacTavish.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Today I set out on a new adventure.  I only wonder why I waited so long?  I am 84 years old. Widowed, mother of four children of whom I am very proud.  Grandmother of four bright grandchildren making their mark in this confusing world of today.  Great Grandmother of two charming little boys. I am a retired Veterinary Technician-a job I hated becoming too old to participate in.  I was a licensed Wildlife Rehabilitator in the state of New York.  Farmer's daughter (dairy farm in Vermont) 4-her and later a 4-H leader when my children were of age to be members.. I am the author of one book , One Dog Night, published last year and currently available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble or through your local bookstore.  I have been writing since I was 10 years old. I have had animals around me all my life -cows, goats, horses, hens..-always a dog and a cat. With me now are Hannah, an 11 year old Brittany and Susie, a 6 year old  female kitty. In this bl...
Read more

The Praying mantis

I believe I had mentioned  seeing a wee Praying mantis on my porch earlier.  They do grow so rapidly!  Or at least I think what I am seeing now is the same one I rescued not that long ago, guiding him (or her) off the cement platform into the garden. A week ago, Edgar was staring intently at something in the grass.  At first I did not see what he was finding so fascinating, as the grass was in need of mowing and the well camoflaged  creature was himself so green.  There he was, "my" Praying mantis, now a "teen-ager", standing tall among the blades of grass with his hands folded in prayer before him. Edgar edged forward, sniffing at the small insect, ever so gently.  This boistrous, pouncing dog of mine!  As he eased forward, nose working, he barely touched the miniature triangular head.  SWISH -one tiny hand swept forward, slapping Edgar right on the end of his nose.  Edgar jumped back, startled.  His curiosity was not dissuaded tho...
Read more
April 9, 2019 Here we are again, Hannah and I, for a second try at this new adventure. First I want to thank Jon Katz and Patty Musgrove for their unceasing patience and encouragement in getting this blog going.  The Army of Good took a different and unprecedented turn to accomplish this effort.  Thanks also to all who responded to Jon's request to help me.  So many good people.  There is hope for this suffering world after all. Hannah, the dog in my photo, is an aging Brittany who is my Service dog.  She came to be my companion a year ago when I lost my beloved Border collie who had been with me for 10 years. Hannah had been hit by a truck and had multiple injuries.  She was taken to a veterinary hospital and treated.  Although they advertised, the hospital was never contacted by her owner. She was thought to be around 10 years old, so perhaps her owner was not able to pay the very large medical bill and just let her go unclaimed. This was n...
Read more