On the Docks and the Dunes November 27, 2013January 28, 2015 – On the Docks and the Dunes – … at nine I ranged freely along the northern shoreline, over dunes, pine trees and scrub growth on a point of sand hooked around a fresh water bay … ….. I bought Black Jack, Beechnut, Dots and Bun Candy Bars at the marina where minnows ladled and counted from open concrete tanks of flowing water, were sold in batches of twenty five to men with double buckets, boisterous voices, wearing canvas vests … ….. I watched their flat or round bottom boats, powered by Johnsons or Evinrudes, rise up, cut white and run straight, to where abundant numbers of schooled perch, bass and pike waited to be taken for the asking by those downstate city men who sought their capture … ….. I glided over the dock one day, the tires of my bicycle playing a steady drum beat in concert with the two by fours I slowly rolled over on my way to nowhere in particular at that particular time … ….. inside boats i saw ropes and anchors, open tackle boxes, daredevils and jitterbugs strewn alongside fishscalers, dead ‘’minnies’’ stuck to the aluminum gunwales, empty Shlitz and Strohs beer cans, stringers with 20 or 30 yellow perch, covered with flys, drying in the sun each fish the prize for a day spent guzzling beer while dropping baited hooks into the chop of the bay … when … …. i lost momentum, pitched to the right … tumbling into shallow marina water, bicycle and all … ! ….. when i bobbed to the surface a thick meaty hand greetd me … a deep voice said, “Can I help you up son … ?” ….. My bicycle rose first … ….. after hoisting from the water i mounted my bicycle, rode away dripping with water feeling so much humiliation i couldn’t even say thank you … Share this:TwitterLinkedInRedditPocketPinterestPrintEmailMoreFacebookLike this:Like Loading... Related