Flash!
Welcome five new readers! Rachel, “E,” Jon, Mwat, and Dan & Kristen
And two new paid subscribers: Joe and Chris. Thanks, folks!
The stats:
Current readers: 188
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My goals for Sept. 30, 2022:
Readers: 250 (62 to go)
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Now back to our regular programming…
You Can Take the Boy out of His Small Town, But…
You can’t imagine his excitement over artificial fishing worms. It began in 9th grade. Gary Houtz and I discovered that if you tore a rubber worm up in chunks, the pieces stuck to the school ceiling tiles like a small bass on a hooked worm. They’d be up there for days until a custodian would take notice and peel those colorful, rubber-y things off with a finger, cursing our births, no doubt.
A few weeks ago I beheld an entire rack of these elastomer polymer wonders. I just had to squeeze one of the packages. Sure enough, they’re as slimy and allure-ing as I remember them. What amazed me even more was where I found them: in a brand new store called CR Wilds on my hometown’s Main Street.
Now, you may be thinking:
Of course there’s a store in Tom’s old town that sells fishing lures. He’s from central PA, after all. I bet they also stock hand-crafted turkey calls, fishing flies, and hunting arrows.
Wait, how’d you know?
Where There’s Flies, There’s Fish
TK TacKle, a business born during COVID when a gas industry professional got restless, stocks the shop with all sorts of adventure accessories. Most impressive is their kayak rental. You can rent one and huff it a few blocks to the boat launch near the river bridge. Next thing you know, you’re floating in one of the most pristine straits of the Susquehanna, 15 miles north of the Sunbury fabridam.1 Compared to the water that flows past Lancaster County, this stretch is less hindered by damming, farm run-off, and heavy industry. Heavenly is its smell.
Over the years I’ve entertained an ongoing feud in my mind (unfairly, I admit) with all Watsontonians that goes like this:
TB: You live next to a wonderful river that’s getting cleaner all the time. It smells so good. Why don’t you guys get out and enjoy it more?
W: We do. We cross the bridge a lot in our cars. Sometimes we look at it.
TB: Is that all? Don’t you ever want to go out and paddle around? Swim, maybe?
W: Haven’t you heard of whirlpools? Some guy last year died when he…
TB: But was that the river’s fault? I mean, it’s so shallow. OK, do your ever just go down to the town park and look at it?
W: Sometimes, yeah. At the carnival.
TB: But that’s one week in June.
W: Your point? Look, once in a while some old people sit on benches down there. That make you happy?
TB: It does make me happy. I’m always happier when I sit by the river, or pull out crayfish, or wade around. If I had a boat…
W: Hold on. The good part’s coming up, and I don’t want miss it.
TB: You’re watching TV?!
W: Yeah, so what? There’s so much on these days!
Let’s Get Metaphysical
For me, this new store is much more than a Shop Local triumph in a town that’s been in a commercial whirlpool of its own for decades. It’s intensely personal and somewhat historical. In the top photo, notice the elegant wood trim, painted blue.
Below, notice my grandfather, Kenneth Becker, standing next to the same clapboard building.
Behind Kenny stands the grand brick structure where he and grandmother Florence set up their five-and-dime business at street level in the 1940s. The building was known locally as Pammy J’s for the diner that operated in his former storefront after he moved the business one block south. Watsontonians, myself included, watched it burn in the mid 1970s, and we lamented its demolition. A tiny lackluster cinder block building took its place and remains a diner.
And Stay Out!
I never entered the river as a kid for fear of my parents. They issued stern forebodings of whirlpools “drownin’ kids out there every summer!” I can still hear Dad and see his flailing, short-sleeved arm pointing to the fearsome Susquehanna, a smoldering Newport clenched between his fingers.
Plus, in the 1970s, The Clean Water Act was just underway. Our river was quite nasty and, for all we knew, carried deathly nerve toxins. These days I swim in the Susquehanna happily, even near Lancaster. There’s nothing like fresh water, and it seems it’s freshening at an encouraging rate thanks to conservation on many fronts.
Take Me to the River
Part of that conservation comes by awareness of our our waterways, the kind this new store represents and engenders. Though my friends and I feared the river, most of our sweetest memories are of catching crayfish in her tributaries, riding bikes along the canal towpath, and rising ten stories above the Susquehanna at night, feet dangling and hearts racing in June on the Ferris Wheel at carnival time.
Frederick Buechner’s fictional 12th century monk, Godric, would immerse himself in the River Wear until his dying days and praise God. As I grow older, I feel drawn to its lifeblood in more than metaphorical ways. I’m on my way, Godric.
There is a river whose stream makes glad the city of God, the holy place where the most high dwells. --Psalm 46:4
Perhaps the operators of this new store are merely taking advantage of entry-level rent and not totally sold on the merits of a downtown district. Or perhaps they’re all in. One thing is certain: Watsontown needs life forms of all kinds, especially the ones with legs, eyes, and dollars. Time will tell how their business fares and where they'll go if they succeed. I hope they go nowhere.
Yes, that’s what a rubber dam is called. It’s possible it’s made up entirely of millions of melted artificial worms, but I can’t confirm that. This dam created Augusta Lake, part of a flood-control project that was also intended to attract boaters and other recreation. The jury is out on the latter purpose, but Sunbury has been spared flooding like it saw in 1972. I mentioned the Agnes Flood in my last column. In case you missed it, link up here.
Hey, I grew up spending very little time in the outdoors, too. Toward the beginning of the pandemic, I started hiking regularly, mostly on the trails along my local river. Now, my 3-year-old son hopes that every car ride leads to a park, and there are picnics, playgrounds, and hikes as often as feasible.