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« Documenting Abandoned Mines and Their Impact on Water | Main | My Summer Adventure »

August 26, 2010

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I've never understood litterers. Yeah, it's easier to throw a candy wrapper into the river than to hold on to it until the next trashcan, but are they really OK living surrounded by garbage? A good friend of mine ended up getting more stitches than Raggedy Ann because her ankle got torn up by a rusty piece of metal in a river. Some idiot makes a split-second decision, and a nice activity is ruined forever.

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I remember heading down to the creek swinging a metal pail with an apple and sandwich Ma made for me, fishing pole on my shoulder, Albert waiting for me at our favorite spot. Wait, no, that was Little House on the Prairie. But I swam in rivers once, I think. Don’t remember. But I do remember very clearly the day when I was about 9 years old and my mom wouldn’t let us go swimming with a group of kids in the St. Joe River in northern Indiana. A friend of hers had recently gotten a chunk of glass lodged in his leg while swimming in the river, and it was off limits to us ever after.

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