FALL

So the fall is almost gone now. Its brilliant and very crisp. I found out from my son last Friday that my sister passed away at home sometime around that date. A visitor couldn't get an answer at the door so the police were called, broke in and found her in final rest in her living room chair. I had wondered why my calls and letters had been unanswered. I knew she was lonely and not feeling well when I left to return home last March.

I just wish I could have stayed local and been of some help-but at least we had our final trip together to the New Jersey shore of our childhood. I had hoped to stay nearby longer but dealing with family realities in Harrisburg and the unfriendliness of it made me long to return to the island.

Aprille had wanted to visit but I had to drive round-trip again and I just wasn't up to it after the ordeal in Pennsylvania last winter.

The family is all together again now save for one-yes, the last of the "Manduka's"- I hope my children get on the stick with career and weddings so I can see some grandkids-one thing is for sure I am next on the list.

Aprille was cremated at Newmyer funeral home in Harrisburg as per her request. The ashes are at our cousin Bettejean "Sis" Weber's home of Etters, and are to be scattered about my mothers ashes in the rose garden at the family home at 3937 Walnut Street.

I am glad cousin sissie (Mom's brother's-Harold Hatfield daughter) and her husband Russ have tried to help my sister and check on her during my travels. It is a shame my children, only a few miles away never really got to know or understand her life and talents, and pains. She was much like Van Gogh, but in actuality a much better artist.
She was my mentor and teacher who had me reading and doing math, playing chess at age 5.

Her intelligence misunderstood caused her pain and rejection in a cruel world. At age 61, missing her family and probably still our life on our Bucks County farm in the 60's and our trips to the Mexico, Florida, Canada and the New Jesey shore and Wyalusing (Homet's Ferry,PA) as children, succumbed as only a sensitive can to the ugliness of a wanton and brutal modern world, perhaps as it is.

She expressed herself in her music, writing and most of all art-I hope it can be preserved as her testimony.

Close of Fishing with my son

It has been very hot on the mainland, far from my island home. We started out on our camping and fishing journey just after my son's high school graduation. I think it was a tough journey for him, but he is stolid. Here, at the econolodge in Mifflintown, along the Juniata of my youth, we conclude our journey. We started at Towanda and our traditional place of islands on the Terrytown side of the river. It was hot, we swam, cooked what we had. The fish were uncooperative with the heat. But we were greeted by every type of bug bird or Snake. Joey awoke one morning to report a giant black snake at the tent door. I explained black racers are harmless and he should be glad to meet the snake.

We decided after all to drive to Westline, and Kinzua Creek. Here we camped in an amazing thunderstorm in the Allegheny plateau, among ever increasing oil wells. But Thundershower run was clean and cold-we caught trout for dinner. I made a heart healthy meal of old bacon, butter sticks, potatoes, onions, and wild brook trout.

This morning after the rain, flocks of butterflies visited us. Mostly yellow swallowtails, but some others as well. It was very stirring.

Joey told me Homet's ferry carried some bad memories of his childhood. It was here, long ago, we played with the children in the river of my youth as the power struggle of the divorce raged. I was unaware of my now grown son's feelings.

We promised to find new places to camp and fish. Now my journey takes me back to work, at the request of my son. I am not sure where that will be. But college bills loom.

I am most anxious in any case to return to "my island". It will be nice to be cool again and see my sea.