Another chapter from my deep past. In the early 1930s my dad bought a plot of land just south of the Minnesota/Iowa border on the banks of the Minnesota Slough. The nearest town was New Albin, IA, where I grew up. Pondo was a commercial fisherman. He purchased this small plot of land for $30 and a gunny sack full of musty muskrat pelts. There were two buildings on the site. Later, Pondo bought an old shanty, and had it moved to “Mini Park,” as he called it. The above photo is of that old shanty. It had two rooms, a small back porch and a front porch. There was no electricity or running water.

In the main room, there was a bed where my two brothers and I slept. We burrowed deep into a soft feather-tic mattress beneath a thick quilt made of scraps of material left-over from long forgotten sewing projects. Outside, we listened to owls hooting from towering cottonwood trees. A distant roll of thunder may announce a coming storm, or a beaver might slap the water with his strong tail, warning his brothers of approaching danger.

Mama read to us beneath the soft glow of an old kerosene lamp. Her soft voice took us to wonderful places, introducing us to colorful enchanting characters, as she read Raggedy Ann and Andy, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, and of course Laura Ingalls’ books. Daddy sat close to the door. If we listened carefully, we could hear him count the stitches he made, as he mended his nets.

Those days in that weedy plot of land called Mini Park were some of the best days of my life. Of course, I am all grown up now. My own children are grown and have blessed George and me with grandchildren. We’ve had the best of it all. I hope that our kids can remember some of the best days of their lives. After all, they grew up on that old river too. What better life is there?

I remember one evening. I was nine years old. Two men in black suits sat at the dining room table with my dad. They studied some papers and talked a while. As they left, they shook hands with Daddy and handed him a check for $1000.00. The government had purchased all the land along the river, including the sloughs. Folks had the option to remove everything on the property and leave, or they could lease the land for 15 years, keeping their buildings and equipment on site. My dad chose to do this. After the lease was up, everything had to be removed. The only thing left behind were the foundations. If one looks closely while passing the many islands along the sloughs of the Mississippi River, through the weeds, in some cases, slowly falling into the water, these foundations can be spotted. The above picture was taken the 1970s. Many years have passed since then. Those ancient remnants of our shanty are no doubt lost, buried in mud and silt.

I understand why the government reclaimed these islands. The river belongs to everyone, and this includes the islands, as well. My dad’s heart was broken when he had to leave his beloved Mini Park, but life went on. He and his fellow commercial fishermen continued to work the river. That was their life, their love.