Three Men In A Boat On The Neponset River - Pt 1

 The four of us were in the parlor on the third floor by the front windows. 

Johnny was sitting by the middle window, no shirt on, long black hair to his shoulders, a guitar near by to help justify his constant singing.  This was his apartment.  

The three men, and a nearby cat, had been playing the world conquest board game Risk for hours.  They started when the sun was going down through the windows to the west on that mid-June afternoon into evening.  

On the stereo system in the middle room a mix-tape was playing.  "Sailing" by Christopher Cross came on.  

Johnny grabbed a book to quote: 

"Then we run our little boat into some quiet nook, and the tent is pitched, and the frugal supper cooked and eaten.  Then the big pipes are filled and lighted, and the pleasant chat goes round in musical undertone; while, in the pauses of our talk, the river, playing round the boat, prattles strange old tales and secrets, sings low the old child’s song that it has sung so many thousand years—will sing so many thousand years to come, before its voice grows harsh and old—a song that we, who have learnt to love its changing face, who have so often nestled on its yielding bosom, think, somehow, we understand, though we could not tell you in mere words the story that we listen to."

Johnny spoke as Dan sat back in his chair and Daniel rolled the dice while pointing at Kamchatka on the game board map. 

"I remember the excitement I felt when I first saw the Neponset River through the trees and greenery of the edge of the river bank.  I was eight or nine years old I guess, the streets were closed to cars as the Memorial Day Parade went to the Cedar Grove Cemetery," he took a drag on the smoke.  "There it was a large blue expanse, yet just beyond the familiar semi-wild for me playground of Dorchester Park.  A whole new world of water.  I wanted a boat.  I wanted to come back another day.  Let's take a trip down the Neponset River in your canoe, Dan, I think it is long enough for us three."  

"Kamchatka to Irkutsk!" Daniel said as he took another swig of his beer from one of the many cans.  

Smoking, drinking, playing games all night with music in the background.  

"When I was a boy, just about eighth grade...." the mix tape began playing the Italian American flavored "Awe Shaddup You Face!" 

"When I was in the eight grade I used to go to an ice cream parlor at Lower Mills on the Neponset River with girls, no pool parlors for me," Johnny said. 

Dan worked in construction, but, was laid off for a few weeks anyway as things slowed down, or, something.  Who knew.  We were like boats on a river.  

Dan took a deep hit off a smoke and said, "Did you see that John Philips from the Mamas and Papas was convicted of having recreational drugs, and sentenced to five years in prison.  Allowed to do community service instead."

"That will teach him!" Daniel said as he moved his pale blue blocks into Irkutsk.  He handed Johnny the dice.  "Your turn."  

The mix tape played Gary Numan's song "Car" and everyone perked up in their chairs and did a little robotic movement with dancing arms.  

"Yes," Dan said, "but lets move beyond cars and feeling safest of all and onto the water and adventure like brave Ulysees or Leif Erikson or.... those who play Risk!" 

"To the canoe!" chimed in Daniel. 

The boat was in the cellar and lived in a hole cut in the wall.  While made of light and sturdy fiberglass, the canoe looked like birch bark.  Easy to carry for the three men.  

Johnny was just turning thirty and Dan was twenty-five and Daniel, the little brother was just twenty-two.  The three men were strong enough, and fit enough for a day trip down the Neponset River.  A ten hour tour with plenty of breaks and a slow pace with the river flow to carry them along as they smoked and drank and talked and laughed and.... maybe cried.  

The first list we made out had to be discarded.  It was clear that the upper reaches of the Neponset River would not allow of the navigation of a boat sufficiently large to take the things we had set down as indispensable; so we tore the list up, and looked at one another!

Dan said: “You know we are on a wrong track altogether.  We must not think of the things we could do with, but only of the things that we can’t do without.”

Strange to think that the Neponset River seems to begin right at the edge of the big stadium in Foxboro.  The source of the watery river.... is a parking lot?  

The three men had Dan's wife drive them to Foxborough with the canoe on the roof of the station wagon and the limited gear and adequate beer and food and smoke were packed inside.  Dan kissed his wife goodbye and Johnny and Daniel waved bye to their sister.  Would they die on the river?  Perhaps, but all three wore floatation devices.  

The Neponset River begins as a skinny trench in a suburb built around cars and the highways and roads and streets and parking lots the vehicles need. No romance here.  But the hardy trees seem to spring up everywhere in Eastern Massachusetts unless they are cut down.  

The men got out and carried the boat as needed from one little pond linked by culver and trench to the next.  Back packs full, but getting lighter with each hour.  

"Let's have second breakfast," said Johnny, somewhere in Dedham.  They sat under a tree on the bank by the water and ate sandwiches.

"Did you see some lad named Marcus Sargeant fired six blank shots from a pistol near the Queen in London and startled her horse?" Daniel asked.  "God Bless the Queen." 

"I close my eyes and think of England," Johnny said.  "And our uncle Frankie killed in an English prison as a teen." 

"So long ago," sighed Dan.