Chapter 2: The Squirrels Along the Old Morris Canal
By Richard Mabey Jr.
When I was a little boy, growing up in the old Mabey Homestead in Lincoln Park, I was very close to my paternal grandfather, Watson Mabey. We would often walk down Mabey Lane, hike the forest path and then rest upon the remaining foundation of the old Mabey Icehouse, that was once owned and operated by my great grandfather, William Mabey Jr.
From the best of my memory, I was about eight years old, during the Summer of 1962, when Grandpa and I first walked down to the pathway of the old Morris Canal. In many ways, it seems like only yesterday, but in other ways it seems like such a long, long time ago.
Grandpa was such a wonderful, magical and enchanting storyteller. We would sit upon the foundation of the old Mabey Icehouse and Grandpa would weave these mystical and endearing stories of the remembrances of his years working upon the old Morris Canal. Grandpa would poetically recount his boyhood years of helping his father with the work of the icehouse, till his glory days of serving as the Chief Engineer of Incline Plane Ten East.
I remember Grandpa would carry a canvas shoulder bag with him, in our walks to the old canal. The old gray canvas bag would be filled with two apples and a thermos of cold lemonade. Grandpa and I would chomp on the bright red apples, sip our sweet lemonade and I would listen to Grandpa tell tales of a bygone era.
I remember that as Grandpa would tell his spell bounding stories, I would watch the squirrels fly from one tree branch to another. The oaks and maples and elms that decorated the canal pathway brought forth a greater magic to Grandpa’s wonderful remembrances of his boyhood days.
Grandpa would often point out a certain squirrel to me and then say, “look at that squirrel, Dicky Jim, he’s about to jump clear across to that other tree branch.” And, sure enough, it would be about five seconds later and that squirrel would make his amazing aerial jump. Then Grandpa would say, “all God’s creatures, great and small.” That was one of my grandfather’s favorite expressions.
To this day, whenever I see a squirrel jump from the branch of one tree to the limb of another tree, it brings back the memories of that golden era. I loved my grandfather, oh so very much. I still miss him dearly. My grandfather was one of the wisest men I have ever known. I think that my love for story telling has deep roots in the historical tales that Grandpa so very often shared with me.
Grandma and Grandpa lived with us in the old Mabey Homestead. As you looked upon the old farmhouse, my bedroom was upstairs, to the righthand side of the house, on the side of West Drive. Grandma and Grandpa’s bedroom was right behind my bedroom. My grandfather had a loud snore. I remember feeling comfort, if I awoke in the middle of night, hearing Grandpa’s resonating snoring.
I miss Grandpa all so very much. I’d give up my entire comic book collection, my valuable collection of old first edition novels, and everything else I own, just to hear Grandpa tell stories of life along the old Morris Canal, for even just one hour.
Love one another. Love your family with all your heart. Forgive, forgive, forgive. Forgive the slights that others may have put upon you. None of us have a guarantee of still being here tomorrow, on this side of Heaven’s Gate. For love is the single most powerful force in the universe.
Richard Mabey Jr. is a freelance writer. He has recently had two books published. He currently hosts a YouTube Channel entitled, “Richard Mabey Presents.” Richard may be contacted at richardmabeyjr@gmail.com.