The Neighborhood of My Mind

The Neighborhood of My Mind

Philip Fraterrigo

Copyright 2012, Philip Fraterrigo

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

Title Page

The Greatest Fisherman

Groceries for Harold

The Broken Wife

Solitaire

The Wall

Hell.org

Termite Farts

First Snow

The Troll Diamonds

Hiding

Lydia's Ashes

The Robbery

About the Author

The Greatest Fisherman

It was Damon's twelfth birthday and he stood by the front window looking out as they continued to move furniture, appliances and clothing into the apartment. Being on the second floor, he could easily see across the highway to the river where many people were fishing. This was an activity he had never tried. There just weren't any fishing holes in the inner city and because of the drugs and the gangs, lead flew through the air instead of weighting down fishing lines. His father found the apartment the same day he was hired at the assembly plant, a scant six blocks down the street. It wasn't suburbia but compared to their old neighborhood, it seemed like heaven.

Dad, look at all the people fishing. Do you think maybe we could do that too? he asked.

His father was struggling to get a large dresser up the last two steps. With a final effort and a loud grunt, the dresser came to rest at the top of the stairs. He stood there feeling tired from all the lifting and carrying he had done for the last few hours. What was that you wanted, Day?

Damon responded to his nickname. I said, ' do you think maybe we could go fishing like those people over there by the river?'

His father walked over to the window and looked out. Well maybe sometime but right now we have to finish moving our stuff and I'm sure a strong boy like you could be a big help. Come on. Let's go back down to the truck and you can give me a hand with the clothes. The sooner we get done, the sooner we can go to Dairy Queen and pick out your ice cream cake.

Weeks had passed since that moving day and the family was comfortably settled into their new apartment but Damon had met very few neighborhood children his age and feared he was in for a long boring summer.

One day while rummaging through the garage loft, he found an old fishing rod. It looked dusty and a bit neglected but it appeared to work okay and even had a hook and sinker still attached to the end of the line. He sat at the edge of the loft with his feet dangling and pretended to be fishing. I wonder who this belongs to? he thought, Maybe Mrs. Ralston would know.

Mrs. Ralston had lived in the first floor apartment for the last fourteen years and she seemed to know a lot of what went on in the neighborhood. That old fishing rod? she said, It probably belonged to Mr. Honeycutt. He used to live upstairs where you live now. He always used to go fishing until a couple years ago when he got sick. I'll bet his family didn't know it was up there when they cleaned out the apartment after he passed away. If you want it, take it. I certainly don't have any use for it.

Gee, thanks Mrs. Ralston, said Damon as he bounded up the stairs with his new acquisition. Mom! Look what I found in the garage. Mrs. Ralston said I could keep it.

That night he tried staying up to show his father the fishing rod but the assembly plant was furiously turning out engines for the new line of cars that would debut in the fall and the overtime pay was too good for a new employee to turn down. Damon's mother removed the fishing rod from the sleeping boy's hand, stood it in a corner and then quietly left the bedroom. The next morning when he arose, his mother cautioned him to be very quiet so as to not awaken his father who had worked well into the early morning hours and needed to sleep. After the same scenario repeated itself two more times, he realized that no matter how well intentioned his father had been, he probably wouldn't end up fishing with him that summer.

Damon wandered over to the front window and looked out at the river. He could see the water flowing swiftly downstream on its journey to Niagara Falls and he envied the people he could see who were standing on the bank fishing. Suddenly, he thought, Why can't I go there by myself? I've got a fishing rod. All I need is some bait.

He headed down to the yard and began to dig by the garage, searching for worms but when that proved fruitless he went back upstairs to his room and picked up his coin bank. After much shaking, he was rewarded with a small pile of change which he promptly pocketed and then headed out the door, fishing rod in hand.

He crossed the pedestrian bridge over the highway and entered the bait shop. Shortly afterward, he emerged with a small container of night crawlers and headed toward the river full of confidence. He was ready to fish.

Finding an open spot, he set his things down on the concrete bank which had been constructed many years before by the Army Corp of Engineers. He leaned against the bank's iron railing as he tried to attach one of the night crawlers to his hook. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he heard someone say, Son, you look like you could use some help.

Looking up, he saw an elderly man with bushy eyebrows and thinning gray hair. His blue eyes seemed almost too youthful for his face but his smile was warm and genuine. Damon instantly liked him. This is my first time fishing, he said.

The old man chuckled. I kind of got that impression. Let me show you how to do it.

Damon handed him the fishing rod. That's a mighty fine fishing rod you've got here, he said.

I found it in the garage behind my house. replied Damon, I think it belonged to the man who lived there before us.

Taking the hook in one hand and the night crawler in the other, the old man pushed the barbed end through its body and then wrapped it around and pierced it again. He did it one more time, leaving just a short length of the worm hanging off the end of the hook so it would move in the water and help attract a hungry fish.

He handed the fishing rod back to Damon. Now that's how you bait a hook, he said, Toss it in the water and let's get to fishing.

Damon held the rod over the edge of the railing and began to feed out the line by unwinding the reel. He old man shook his head. Son, those fish will die of old age before you get your hook in the water. Let me show you how to cast.

Taking the rod, he showed him the correct way to hold it with his index finger wrapped around the trigger hook while using his forearm and wrist action to cast the line out and into the water. Once the line is in the water, bounce it up and down occasionally to help attract a fish, he added.

Damon gave it a try and the line flew out gracefully, landing with an audible splash as it hit the water. He sat there for a minute bobbing the line up and down while the old man looked on humming an unrecognizable tune. Suddenly, he felt a slight tug on the line and he gave it a quick yank. There was a commotion and splashing as he began to reel in what turned out to be a very small rock bass. I got one! I got one! he yelled as he landed his undersize trophy.

He held up the fish and the old man looked as it flopped and danced on the end of the hook. Not too bad for a first try but you'll have to throw him back.

Throw him back? Why?

Because he's too small. In order to be a good fisherman you have to respect nature and the law, said the old man. The law says the fish has to be at least a minimum size and the laws of nature say that if we kept all the small fish, they wouldn't grow up and produce any new fish and soon there would be no fish at all.

He was disappointed at having to throw back his first fish but Damon was determined to be a good fisherman. Don't worry, said the old man, I have a good feeling about you. Keep on trying and some day you may become a great fisherman.

Really? said Damon.

I'm sure of it, replied the old man, Now why don't you put another worm on that hook and we'll give it another try.

Damon sat cross legged trying to bait the hook. Who was the best fisherman you've ever known? he asked idly.

Hmm, said the old man as he scratched his chin, that's a tough question. Living here next to the river all these years there's been a good number of fishermen I've known but there's one that the folks around here have always considered the greatest fisherman of them all. Everybody knew him as Dan the Fishin' man.

Damon paused for a moment and looked up. Really? What made him so great?

Oh, there are all sorts of stories about him, replied the old man, "He could do things you wouldn't believe. Why they said he could charm a fish straight out of the water and into his net without having to use a fishing rod. He claimed the only reason he used a rod was to give the fish a fair chance.

What? said Damon.

The old man nodded his head and continued, They say that years ago before this concrete wall was built, he was sitting on the river bank fishing and began to hum a tune. The next thing he knew, the river became a mass of turbulence and frenzy as all the fish started to swim in his direction. Not only downstream, but they also swam upstream, against the current and all were converging on the spot where he sat. So great was the number of fish swimming upstream that the river temporarily began to flow in the opposite direction causing Niagara Falls to go dry and the level of Lake Erie to rise and threaten to flood all of the downtown waterfront. They say after that incident, he was always careful what he hummed while he was fishing.

Damon gave him a look of disbelief.

The old man continued, Another story said that during World War II he was fishing off this very spot and hooked a German U boat.

A what? asked Damon.

A U boat, a submarine, replied the old man, "It was sneaking up the river and was heading for the lake where they were planning on sinking ships that were carrying war supplies. Why, when Dan realized what he had hooked, he tied himself to a tree so he wouldn't get pulled into the river and with only twenty pound test line, he fought that U boat like a deep sea fisherman fights a Marlin. He played out line and reeled it in and played out again and then in. He fought it for over three hours until their batteries went dead and they had to surface. The Coast Guard came along then and captured the U boat and took all the credit but Dan didn't