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The Floating Outhouse
One of my cousins husband and I did not get along well at all. I was just past the teenage stage and he was a hard working, serious, no exceptions to the rules, adult. I called him an "old coot". (Behind his back) He called me a “good for nothing”. (To my face.)
He had hauled fill, put up sea walls, pumped muck, and converted a large
strip of cattails and muck into a large shore area at the mouth of the creek at
the SE end of Sandy Pond.
The first time I drove a boat by that area on my way to the marina he was yelling and shaking his fist for me to slow down. On the way back I went by considerably slower, but not slow enough for him. He shook his fist, I flipped him the “bird”.
Shortly after I returned to camp, a sheriff’s car arrived
and I was told a complaint had been filed about my speed in the creek. I told
the deputy about slowing down on my return. I also explained that I was in
the Coast Guard, knew the rules better than he or the deputy for that matter,
and that he was a grouchy old coot. The deputy then asked me if he could tell
“the old coot” that he had talked to me and I would be more careful the next
time. I told the deputy that he could not.
In the following years we more or less ignored each other.
The dislike was still there. Comments were often heard through 3rd
parties, but we did not speak.
He had an ideal spot for snagging salmon from his newly
developed shoreline. Until snagging was outlawed, his take was in the top 1%.
When snagging became illegal, he started fishing Lake Ontario. Shortly after, he
purchased an old inboard and converted it for lake fishing. He had used a
permanent frame and cheap poly material as a windbreak to protect him from the
elements. I do not know where he got the poly, but it was a bright yellow/brown
color. His fishing boat soon became known as the “Floating Outhouse”
One day while returning from Lake Ontario I spotted the
“Floating Outhouse” drifting near Carl Island. At first I thought the old
coot was fishing, but soon noticed the boat would start, go into gear, start
shuddering, and then stop. Now on the water, if a boater is in trouble, I will
help regardless of who he is. I went over and asked if I could help or tow the
“Floating Outhouse” to a marina that close by.
I will not repeat the remaining conversation. I will say
that eventually, I towed the “Floating Outhouse” to his camp and left without further
conversation. Later we started talking. We even became friends. One day I
said to him that I thought he had changed considerably since the Sheriff
Incident. He looked at me and said, “I was just thinking the same thing about
you.” We laughed.
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