Apricot Creek Classroom

Recently, I had been informed that all people, even the brilliant minds, after years of discussion about weapons couldn’t possibly imagine the simplest weapons advances of the future; let me tell you, that made me feel good about myself. I’m pretty average but I can imagine a bunch of stuff, so it is always good to be able to do what a genius can’t. I happen to have a ton of anecdotal evidence of my “average-ous-nous” earlier in life and I’m dumb enough to share some of it.

It will come as no surprise to note that even though I fished; I was a no genius. I was closer to a bone head. For example, when I tried to make hot chocolate on the stove in a glass that didn’t work out; or when trying to build a go-cart and instead it turned into a bomb, or even one of the many times I came home with a poor grade. I might not have achieved but I could imagine a better container for milk, a better go cart and; O.K. I couldn’t imagine more studying. Instead of imagining that, I just got punished, I didn’t even know there was a, “leave me alone, I’m only average card” to play. Alas, apparently, only the smart kids figure out how to do that and get away with it.

There was a time though, when I was at my best, albeit, with a little help from science fiction movies and television, where those dummies, untethered by kid-hood or genius limitations rules, imagined futuristic stuff all the time. Like me, I doubt those writers didn’t know they were doing the impossible and wasting it on “Dr. Who”. I wasn’t a complete sloth though. I don’t want to get too carried away here but it is safe to say I was at my most focused and sharpest when it really mattered; at the fishing hole.

I didn’t have enough room between my ears for algebra, literature, and whatever else they babbled on about as I stared out of the window nine long months of the year thinking about fishing and whatever walked by the 3’X5’ translucent hole in the wall that connected me with the outside world. This is not a tacit attempt to say that I was too smart to be interested or pay attention in school; not the case at all and I can prove it. My best friend, Joseph, sat right next to me every day and got straight A’s. He ended up getting many degrees and now people pay him whatever he asks to build important stuff. Yet, Joseph also stared out the window all day too thinking about fishing and, frankly, I think saw more stuff out there than I did. On some days Joseph went into such a deep gaze through the window, I’d have to shake him when the bell rang or I think he’d have sat there all night. So a daydreamer is just a daydreamer, sometimes because he’s smart and sometimes it is because his brain tires faster than the rest of the kid’s minds do.

Yet, at the fishing hole, I was in my element almost Joes equal at staring and thinking. You see, it was a matter of survival, pride, and territory not to mention boatloads of fun, a place where even an average kid can find success. First off we had the fish, then as if that wasn’t enough, we had also the Jeraks our neighbor kids from across the stream. We used to say they misspelled their name, and had one too many vowels (I’d say, “Consonants” and Joe would slap me…I still don’t know why) and we’d all laugh like hyenas. Don’t feel bad for them, they used to say stuff too and they’d laugh like hyenas…sometimes we’d all laugh like hyenas at the same time. Being offended was not a defense then; it was a weakness.

We were friends fifty percent of the time and mortal, blood-feuding enemies the other fifty percent. That just made our situation perfect. Not coincidently, we both fished about fifty percent of the free time we had. We spent the rest of our time off as such; from a pie graph Joseph made in 1978: 25% doing chores, 7.5% doing unorganized sports, 7.5% of the time doing organized sports and 9% of the time being grounded and or punished. Joe had a formula to add punishments with chores creating a fluctuating variable designated as “y time squared divided by Pi” but I still argue that he had to specify blueberry or strawberry Pi. According to Joe; we spent the final one percent of the time pretending to do homework, which Joe broke out to looking for bait, dirty magazines and stealing cigarettes. (I‘m pretty sure I we fudged our times in the last category more than Joseph).

The trouble was that the best fishing hole on the creek was wedged uncomfortably between the Jerak’s side and our side. Their side had the deep undercut bank that the fish loved to hide in, our side had the best side to stand on in order to present bait to the fish under the bank. Thus a conflict was inevitable; the hole was not big enough for everyone to get their bait to the fish at the same time. A perfectly acceptable condition to declare war; if you wanted to fish in the time we had between chores, being grounded and faking homework and not missing a great pickup game of tackle football while not be late to practice for organized football. You had to make some time to get fishing in. Amazingly, us little anglers were not limited to the science of the time to imagine then create some terrible fishing hole defense systems. Without modern technology and video games, all we had was imagination and the drive to escape boredom.

So, motivated by our desire to fish and stay ahead of our competitors, we created some interesting traps, weapons, and shields. Of course there were the basics, single shot slingshots became multi-projectile cannons. Outside of what we created, we imagined what we could not create. Some of it is in use today. The ideas of drones, guided missiles, E.M.P devices (just to ruin fishing tackle and not hurt the bait or fish) were not new along the shores of a distant creek and not all of the ideas were even from Joseph’s fourteen year old mind (our drone idea could devastate enemies and cast a wet fly under a bank in high water though).

Of course, we weren’t limited to direct combat so we also came up with some great espionage techniques. Like the time we stole all the fish from the embattled spot and put them in a different place downstream. Then we rented the hole with a weekend of peace, to the Jureks for a magazine and four cigarettes. At the time we couldn’t possibly imagine such things as fishing regulations… or cancer research… yet… wait a minute… maybe the Jureks were trying chemical warfare… they did laugh like hyenas after the deal…Oh well, we got the fish so we won.

See you along the stream