Paul was a Fisherman

Paul was a Fisherman. No! Not that Paul! My DA, Paul Nash.

Paul had a broken back, one kidney, and 6 to feed. He did what he could.
He fished, we fished. We all contributed to the family food supply.

Paul took a long length of thick rubber band. At several spots he had attached groups of hooks.
A rock at the far end, and bait onto each hook. He would throw the rock far out into Lake Monomonac. After a while, he would haul in the band, and we kids would scramble to unhook all the fish. I always found this to be amazing!

We kids would be there with our sticks and line and hooks and bait. Bait gleaned off the yard at home early that morning, usually! Perch, Pickerel, Trout, hornpout, sunfish! Young Harry, I think, took to the fishing best.

Later in my childhood, we had a rowboat, and a lot at the Square Piece below the red dam.
Usually two of us would take the boat out to fish.

That same lot became a gathering place in winter for the ice fisherman. We would have a bonfire, and all would gather there. We Nash kids would be out skating on Square Piece, keeping watch on the flags from the holes cut into the ice by all these ice fishermen. We would either yell, or skate fast back to the group to alert the right person! Often, we had our own holes to tend.

When we would arrive back home, our wet socks and mittens were draped over all the shelves on the wood stove that we cooked with and heated the apartment with. The old black thing with the removable burner covers, the deep soup belly, and the wonderful bread oven. My mother made wonderful brown bread in there! I miss that stove, and all the colors of winter upon it!