So we did it…filled the raft with 10 year olds on one hot summer day.. At the time we thought we could have the kids up the farm often. Thinking That this was just the beginning. But that never happened. The party was a one time occasion. They raised hell as you can see. They did not consider the other creatures of the swamp pool. Did not even know. The kids did not know that our big snapping turtles lived in the swamp pond. She had been there as long as we could remember. She only came out to lay her eggs about mid July. Her breath was enough knock you over. Kissing her was never a consideration. Rarely even saw her. She was there though. But she was not possessive. She shared the pond. Probably seemed like just another moss covered rock in the pond bottom. A stepping stone.
“And the leeches, Alan, what about those black devils?”
“Kids move too fast for leeches. You know what leeches like are waders…people who stand in still waters wondering about the deep. Leeches like them. None of Andrew’s friends ever stand still.”
Ad so we captured a moment in time that would never be repeated.. Seized and held it. Chedrished it. Still do.
We have had lots of those in our life. We like to seize the moment.
TOMORROW NEVER COMES.
One other of those moments comes to mind. Summer day. We were on the way to Cooperstonw, New York, where I had purchased an
ancient grain sheller from an abandoned grist mill. That was our purpose but it was not the only purpose. Some people hate distractions. They have minds honed sharp as a butcher knife. Grindstone minds. And they are good people, do not get me wrong. My problem, if it is a problem, is that I am easily distracted. Ready to revel in a golden moment on the periphery. And there, on a sideroad to Cooperstown long ago one of those moments happened.
It was a hot summer day. Persperation hot.
“What are you braking for, we’re late.?”
“Did you see that?”
“What?”
“Way over there where the river takes a hook.”
“Kids swimming…lots of kids… so what?.”
“Well we are going to join them. Strip down and put on your suit.”
“No, why don’t we do it tomorrow? Tomorrow, when the kids are gone.”
“TOMORROW NEVER COMES!”
And most of us did strip, except for Doug. He could have stripped and dived in with the rest of us…Marjorie, Kevin, Andrew…but my friend, Doug, did not. After the swim, when we were changing back into dry clothes on the riverbank, I said to him.
“Doug, you should have joined us. It was delightful.”
“Maybe I will tomorrow,”, he said.
“Tomorrow Never Comes,” I said…a kind of throwaway remark. Not meant to hurt.
And then a very strange thing happened. One of the little boys…a kid who just happened to be in earshot of our venture. A kid who listens…a kid who like most kids was trying to puzzle out the meaning of life on this earth. Or at least searching for a meaning that he might understand.
“You know,” said Doug, “I might just go for a swim here tomorrow.”
That little boy looked up and said,
“Tomorrow Never Comes, you know.”
Funny how some comments that seem so inconsequential can lodge in the brain for a lifetime. The boy had been listening to our conversation all along. His words … repeat of my words … are engraved forever in my mind.
Tomorrow did not come. We used a block and tackle to lower the corn sheller from the uppermost part of the old stone mill to the ground, then levered it into our truck. That was an adventure in itself. Doug liked that and we could not have got the machine to the ground without him. Our goal was achieved. Then we headed home along the same road. The river pool was still there. No kids. We did
