More than a few years ago Dad would pile us all into our old car and we would be off to see Uncle John and Aunt Alma. There were places we didn’t want to go, but Uncle John’s place was not one of them because Uncle John told the some wonderful stories. Aunt Alma had married into a German family. Uncle John was a small, plump man with a quizzical half smile who seldom was seen with a frown on his face. Having no children of his own, he doted on nephews and nieces and indeed, any stray critter who had the good fortune to wander his way.
Uncle John’s stories were right down on a child’s level, and grown-ups, listening in, reverted to that level. The stories usually lacked an auspicious beginning, and ended having related no great events. They started when he was reminded of the time when….... Perhaps one typical story might have been the fish story. There had just been a fire down in the Jersey Pine Barrens, and Uncle John belonged to that strange breed who knew every sandy highway and byway of that mysterious place. Indeed, he could have been labeled a “Piney”.
He told us that there had been a big fire that burned from Batsto almost all the way up to Hammonton and the pine woods were left in blackened ruins. It had come at a bad time, right after a dry spell and the few insects and animals that might have splashed into the river to end up a meal for the fish were nowhere to be seen. The pine forest would recover and it wouldn’t be very long before all traces of the fire would be covered new growth. Somehow the flora and fauna unique to the area would survive and even prosper as the woods regenerated. But for now, the cedar water flowed along undisturbed by insect life and it seemed that even the small frogs and snakes had gone away.
Uncle John walked along the bank of the river one day and noticed that the bank was undercut by the current, and under the bank there lay an enormous fish with an even more enormous appetite. Now just how Uncle John knew that fish was there he never mentioned. He said that fish had been lurking under that bank when the iron furnaces in the forest were casting cannonballs for General Washington’s army, and had never been so hungry. Not even a muskrat would have made it from one side to the other without ending up as dinner for a monstrous fish.
The very next week, when Uncle John had the day off he went back to the place where that fish was. During the week he had got a big, strong hook and a long piece of clothesline. He moved the boxes in the shed and caught three mice. We all knew what was going to happen next. Uncle John sneaked up to the bank and tied the mice to the hook and very carefully tossed them into the water just upstream of where the fish lay. The water exploded and the mice disappeared and something about the size of a submarine took off downstream. Uncle John held on but the clothesline slipped through his hands and took off some skin so he real quick took a loop around a nearby tree and the clothesline broke.
So to this day, if you happen to be down by the Batsto river and see a piece of clothesline floating up from the bottom you will know that the old fish is still lying on bottom trying to rub the hook out of his mouth. The mice are long gone.
Well, there was no fish dinner but that came as no surprise to Aunt Alma for Uncle John brought home treasures untold from the Piney woods, but they seldom took the form of fish, fowl or game. In retrospect, we know now that he took more from the pine woods than we knew was there.
We kids never tired of listening to Uncle John’s adventures but Aunt Alma must have thought they were pretty stale after she had heard the same story many times. She never let on though. She loved company and maybe she realized that the way to get visitors was to let Uncle John provide the bait.
At the time we didn’t realize that we were getting a liberal helping of folklore from an expert in the field. It’s true that Uncle John stretched things a bit at times, but he imparted wisdom and wonder of how things were back in the old days. About the piney woods, plants, animals, fires and even about the old iron furnaces in the pines and, we all profited by acquiring a sense of heritage that could have come to us in no other way.
Uncle John’s stories were right down on a child’s level, and grown-ups, listening in, reverted to that level. The stories usually lacked an auspicious beginning, and ended having related no great events. They started when he was reminded of the time when….... Perhaps one typical story might have been the fish story. There had just been a fire down in the Jersey Pine Barrens, and Uncle John belonged to that strange breed who knew every sandy highway and byway of that mysterious place. Indeed, he could have been labeled a “Piney”.
He told us that there had been a big fire that burned from Batsto almost all the way up to Hammonton and the pine woods were left in blackened ruins. It had come at a bad time, right after a dry spell and the few insects and animals that might have splashed into the river to end up a meal for the fish were nowhere to be seen. The pine forest would recover and it wouldn’t be very long before all traces of the fire would be covered new growth. Somehow the flora and fauna unique to the area would survive and even prosper as the woods regenerated. But for now, the cedar water flowed along undisturbed by insect life and it seemed that even the small frogs and snakes had gone away.
Uncle John walked along the bank of the river one day and noticed that the bank was undercut by the current, and under the bank there lay an enormous fish with an even more enormous appetite. Now just how Uncle John knew that fish was there he never mentioned. He said that fish had been lurking under that bank when the iron furnaces in the forest were casting cannonballs for General Washington’s army, and had never been so hungry. Not even a muskrat would have made it from one side to the other without ending up as dinner for a monstrous fish.
The very next week, when Uncle John had the day off he went back to the place where that fish was. During the week he had got a big, strong hook and a long piece of clothesline. He moved the boxes in the shed and caught three mice. We all knew what was going to happen next. Uncle John sneaked up to the bank and tied the mice to the hook and very carefully tossed them into the water just upstream of where the fish lay. The water exploded and the mice disappeared and something about the size of a submarine took off downstream. Uncle John held on but the clothesline slipped through his hands and took off some skin so he real quick took a loop around a nearby tree and the clothesline broke.
So to this day, if you happen to be down by the Batsto river and see a piece of clothesline floating up from the bottom you will know that the old fish is still lying on bottom trying to rub the hook out of his mouth. The mice are long gone.
Well, there was no fish dinner but that came as no surprise to Aunt Alma for Uncle John brought home treasures untold from the Piney woods, but they seldom took the form of fish, fowl or game. In retrospect, we know now that he took more from the pine woods than we knew was there.
We kids never tired of listening to Uncle John’s adventures but Aunt Alma must have thought they were pretty stale after she had heard the same story many times. She never let on though. She loved company and maybe she realized that the way to get visitors was to let Uncle John provide the bait.
At the time we didn’t realize that we were getting a liberal helping of folklore from an expert in the field. It’s true that Uncle John stretched things a bit at times, but he imparted wisdom and wonder of how things were back in the old days. About the piney woods, plants, animals, fires and even about the old iron furnaces in the pines and, we all profited by acquiring a sense of heritage that could have come to us in no other way.
