One of my earliest memories in life is of a little spot at Krape Park in Freeport. The road crosses Yellow Creek and runs along on the west side for some time before turning the corner and beginning a climb up Flagstaff hill. Just before that climb a little turn off will take you down to a perfect fishing spot a little out of the way from the rest of the park. This is where I spent many a summer day fishing with my Grandma Hadju. She had a folding chair set up right by the water's edge and would have a cane pole or two set up with a worm and a bobber. I would sit with Grandma and watch that bobber, hoping to see a little nibble. Grandma and I would talk as we waited. Funny thing is I don't remember anything we ever talked about. I just remember that spot and the hours of fun we spent together staring at a little bobber in the water.
Sometimes after a large rainstorm little pools of water would appear in the tire tracks of the dirt road. Grandma would put fish in those little pools to keep while we fished. I remember Grandma caught a rather large catfish once and put it into one of those pools. I sat and watched it swim around and grew somewhat attached to it. Then I found out it was a mother with babies on the way. I was broken hearted. I knew what was going to happen to that pour fish. I pleaded with Grandma to set it free and after some time she relented and put it back in the creek. I still remember her smirk as she and I watched the fish swim away.
Having parents who are divorced was no picnic. Tracey, Trisha and I would spend weekends out on the farm and week days at home, although we were usually home in time for church. I have many fond memories of the farm. I wanted so bad to show I was a man and help out. In the beginning I would go around with Grandma Fluegel feeding the milk cows as they were milked. She had an orange cart on rollers she would fill with grain and would go from cow to cow giving them a scoop each of grain. In the barn there was the bullpen, which was not a very nice place. It always stank and even when the bull was out we stayed out of there because of the mess on the floor. There was a little calf pen at the back of the barn which we used as a jail for all of our make believe games. It was perfect. Then right up a latter we would go into the hayloft. That was a place of wonders. The best hide and seek games ever played took place in that loft. There were several levels to it and although it was really hot in the summer we still had a blast up there. Usually my cousins Tammy and Christine would come out at the same time so the five of us would spend hours in the barn playing. Of course I was the only boy so many times I was outvoted but I should have known then what the Lord had in store for me. For much of my life I have been the only boy. I guess the Lord was preparing me early.
Sometimes those farm visits would happen over Christmas break. Dad had bought us each a sled. Sometimes he pulled us behind his snowmobile which was fun but a little scary. We found a little spot in between the fields that was perfect for sledding. It descended a pretty nice hill and if you caught enough air at the bottom you could jump the small stream that was frozen over. I remember coming back from those excursions frozen from head to toe because we had stayed way too long and even at times until it was dark. We would get to Grandma's house and strip off all our wet coats and gloves and sit on the heater thawing out. Fun times.
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