He watched his grandson, in his rain gear, kneel beside a stream of rainwater and place the boat into the moving current. Earlier, he had shown him how his dad learned the same way he was being taught, which wasn't very difficult. First, you needed six sticks for the deck. Each was about eight inches long, and you used doubled kite string to tie them all together. Next, you found another sturdy stick about ten inches long and stuck it in the middle, pressing it down by hand until it stuck out a couple of inches to serve as a rudder. Lastly, you used a piece of old sheet material that Mom gave you for the sail. This part took patience as you found a 12-inch stick and attached it to the stick you used as the mast. Then you used your pocket knife to poke several slits in the sail, then tied it to the mast with string. If you followed all instructions, your boat should float.
Now he stood up and watched as his grandson ran beside his boat, plowing through floating leaves and other debris with a full sail. He knew that about 500 feet ahead, the small stream would empty into a retention pond with a small waterfall, and his boat would fight to stay afloat as it spilled into the water below. Truth be told, he was a little bit skeptical the little craft could survive the fall, just as he was with his own boat way back when, but he didn't want to miss it if it did. He put on his rain gear, hopped on his 4-wheeler, and caught up to his grandson just a few feet from the plunge. I'll bet you a candy bar it makes it he said to his granddad. You're on, he replied. They stood side by side as the bow tipped down over the falls, almost flipping over, but as the stern touched down into the pond, the danger had passed, and the little boat sailed around the pond until the wind stopped and the little boat bobbed up and down, waiting for some more air to fill the sail. We just let it join the other boats. His grandad told him, " See over there under the hanging branches; that's a boat your dad made many years ago. Its sail is gone, and the mast is tangled in a fisherman's line. And see right there up on the bank, covered with moss, that was my boat I built when I was your age. They hung out for a while until his small labor of love slowly drifted under a cluster of hanging vines and disappeared from view. That's where it will stay for a long time along with the others, he told his granddad as he jumped on the 4-wheeler and pulled a candy bar from his granddad's coat pocket.
Mike 2026
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