<html><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; -webkit-line-break: after-white-space; ">I think knowing this story is the reason I take the rope with me... :) I know I'm too big for the kids to drag out, the safest thing to do is to extend a pole or throw a rope... Well, if I take it with me, I have it already.<div><br></div><div>Thanks for sharing it, Dad! :)</div><div><br><div apple-content-edited="true"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: auto; -khtml-text-decorations-in-effect: none; text-indent: 0px; -apple-text-size-adjust: auto; text-transform: none; orphans: 2; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px; "><div style="word-wrap: break-word; -khtml-nbsp-mode: space; -khtml-line-break: after-white-space; "><div>Jonathan Gathman</div><div><a href="mailto:jonathan@stl.gathman.org">jonathan@stl.gathman.org</a></div><div><br class="khtml-block-placeholder"></div></div><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"></span> </div><br><div><div>On Jan 18, 2009, at 3:43 PM, Stuart Gathman wrote:</div><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"><blockquote type="cite"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: auto; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0; "><div class="hmmessage" style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Verdana; ">Dear Gathnetters, <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br>I couldn't resist answering Jon's very good description of life in the east. His story reminds me of Cathy and my beloved "pond" also known as the "swamp" which existed behind the Stienkist home and the Johnson's. These were our neighbors to the south in Lorraine Street in Glen Ellyn, IL. This pond was not near as deep as Jon's but to me expecially, it was a point of endless pleasure. Sailing boats in the summer and skating in the winter. (Although the houses is gone, the pond has been upgaded a bit and is a beautiful garden spot among all of the mansions that have replaced our modest homes.) I also remember that I was always playing out there and had to wear my boots. And as you can imagine, I always came in the house with very wet feet. Either going deeper than my boots would let me or causing a leak in the boots and allowing pond water to soak my feet.<br><br>But..... I hate to tell you folks from the east that we have been enjoying 80 degree temperatures these days. It is a good time of year here in southern California. Crystal clear air (here in the mountains), warm temperatures and our wonderful well supplying us with clear good tasting water from deep in the ground. In spite of the desperation of the state government to spend beyond ts means, being retire here has been very good. No snow to shovel, not ice to drive on and no heating bills to pay. Also no heavy cloths to buy. Every thing is just great until the next bout with fires.<span class="moz-smiley-s6"><span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>:-[<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span><br><br>Jon's story reminds me of my experience with falling into Lake Ellen in the midst of trying to plow the snow from the lake. If you have heard this story before, just skip to the end.<br><br>Back in the old days, I use to work with my Grandfather, John Gathman in the Glen Ellyn Park District. The story opens on dark night with the skating lights on and I was assigned the "walk behind" tractor with an attached plow to clear the snow from areas where it wasn't safe to take the truck or jeep with a big snow plow. It was really fun I thought, running a tractor with a plow on a beautiful night. I was dressed up warmly so the cold wasn't a problem. Grandpa was back in the furnace room of the old boat house keeping the fire going etc. Grandpa was trying to take the place of my father who had been killed in Germany in WWII. We worked together many times and I warmly remember the times we were together. Anyway,, as I was plowing along, all of a sudden there was a huge "crack" and the tractor, plow and I all went into the lake. It was very very cold I remember. I managed to get to shore (I don't remember how) and draged myself to the furnace room through the dark. Poor Grandpa, he grabbed me and got me close to the furnace to warm me up. I am sure now he was wondering how he was going to tell my mother about the accident. Mom was still not recovered from the loss of my father and the potential of this loss would have been very bad to say the least. Anyway, after I had warmed up a while, Grandpa got me into his 1937 "machine" (ford) and drove me home. I got to a warm bed and was fast asleep immediately. I guess the were later in the daylight to hitch a rope on the tractor and pull it from the lake. Just a memory flashing into an old man's mind when thinking of ponds and ice.<br><br>Love to you all, <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><br> <br>der alte Grossvater<br><br><hr>Windows Live™: Keep your life in sync.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://windowslive.com/explore?ocid=TXT_TAGLM_WL_t1_allup_explore_012009" target="_new">Check it out.</a></div></span></blockquote></div><br></div></body></html>