By Rev. Tom White, April 24, 2019 — The latest buzz around the neighborhood was that Bob was going to build a canvas canoe. He got all the complements of a kit for making the canoe from a Boys’ Life catalog. The only item Bob had to provide was the paint; everything else—the wood framework, the canvas, sealants, and fasteners—came in the mail with the kit.
Bob did the basic work, although some of us other kids popped in and out at times offering help. When the canvas was stretched and put on the frame, we helped paint it and apply sealant.
A canoe made out of canvas? Why not? The sealant, when it dried, kept out the water and rendered the canoe relatively safe from damage in handling. Several of us neighborhood kids helped carry the kayak-canoe down to the nearby quarry for launching. (This quarry was located off of Route 322, approximately where the Student Center is located now.)
The canoe could carry two persons at a time. My mother, having learned about the canoe, sternly warned my brother and I not to have anything to do with this contraption. And anyway, what could go wrong with this sturdy, well-built canvas canoe?
It is a depressing thing to realize that some individuals had no regard for their environment. Who in the world would throw a large harrow into the quarry? It was large and had sharp metal parts, but it sank into the waters of the quarry. The quarry was deep, but the harrow was large. It was just below the surface of the water and couldn’t be seen.
Sure enough, Bob paddled right over the hidden harrow, and it ripped a big hole in the canoe. Bob managed to tread water and get out of the water.
When Mom had learned about the wreck of the canoe, she had a cow. She ranted about the hazards of canoeing on that quarry. She said, “I’m just glad that you and Dave weren’t in that canoe with him.”
Later Mom learned that Bob was not alone in that watery incident. She asked who was the other in the canoe. Dave and I said we didn’t know; we weren’t there. “It could have been Gene, Paul or Junior. None of them are saying anything about it.” Mom reiterated her happiness that it wasn’t either of her sons that went down with that crazy canoe. Dave and I said nothing.
Thirty years later, Mom was reminiscing about my early teen years. She mentioned Bob’s canvas canoe disaster and wondered if I ever learned who was in the canoe with Bob when it went down. I replied, “Yes, I do know who it was; it was me!”