Be thankful, grateful, patient, charitable, kind, and don’t forget to smile, as it is infectious. God Bless America and Protect Our Military!!
As a kid, my friends and I lived in Cobbs Creek Park in SW Philly. We dug for worms, made rope swings, scooped up frogs, snakes, newts, or tadpoles, and even caught a crayfish or two.
Crossing the stepping-stones to the other side of the creek, to the base of Indian Rock, where at the top was the back end of Mount Moriah Cemetery and the Devil’s Elbow hill, we would challenge or dare each other to ride down on our bikes. Built a campfire at the base of Indian Rock and made bows and arrows and fishing poles out of the bamboo there.
I still imagine myself, my late brother Larry, and friends, some of whom are now gone, walking down 59th from Springfield Avenue, where we lived. You could almost sled the walk in the snow from Belmar, past Windsor and Warrington, going down towards Whitby to Cobbs Creek Parkway, and crossing the street from the Flying A gas station to the Plateau. A place where we would play rough touch football or throw frisbees. We even had a friend who had a boomerang, well, at least until it got stuck in a tree.
We would walk or chase each other down the tree-root-and-stone path to the lower field, which was at the very far end of left-center field at the big baseball field below. You could cross the creek there via the steppingstones to the other side to Indian Rock, where you could walk the lower paths into Yeadon or climb Indian Rock to the back of Mount Moriah Cemetery.
We played ball at White Rock, and sledded in winter on “Nut Cracker Hill,” which ran from Whitby Avenue, heading into Yeadon, to the baseball field. On a good snow sledding day, you could almost make it to the far end of the baseball field. We would ice skate or walk on the ice when it froze over down to the seven hills near 70th street. We played Army, had snowball fights, made fires to stay warm, built a tree fort, and, crazy now, at it seems, would walk into the manholes to the waterfall with candles.
I am sorry for getting caught up in the moment, but these skills honed were used during my weekend excursion with my son Dan, who was in the Boy Scouts. It was at camp Delmont in Harleysville, PA. The day we left it poured cats and dogs in a lightning storm. A perfect time to head into the woods, camp along a creek a mile from base, sleeping in tents on wooden pallets with afoot gap that anything that could walk or fly could camp in our tent with us. The only difference is we had air mattresses.
In spite of the mud and the realization that you can only get so wet and muddy, we had a very memorable weekend as the sun came out over the following two days. We canoed, shot arrows, and were raided by neighboring camps late at night, hooting and hollering and shooting silly string. I think mostly to scare the first timers.
We also got eaten alive by every mosquito and spider that took refuge in our tent. Had a deer run through our campsite, only saw the flash of its tail as it scooted by our campfire. We had several late-night trips that weekend to our bug-infested out house, about a hundred yards from our tents. That was interesting.
We toasted marshmallows, and I got voted camp lead for making and bringing coffee and the means to make it over a fire with Tupperware creamer, sugar, cups, spoons, and, most importantly, Raid Yard Guard. Well, every mosquito and spider that was in our tent vacated after I sprayed before we went to shoot arrows. I think it was mostly because of this that I was named camp leader. Yeah Me! LOL
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