First Reno jumped ship - and without her weight holding the structure tight onto the 55 gallon drum, the frame rose skyward out of the water and remained there, releasing one drum to drift silently away. That left 3 of us trying to balance on the remaining drums.  Then Penny saw her chance to escape being trampled or drowned. She jumped as we circled again toward the bank where Reno was running and barking!

Weight shift repeated.  Out came the next drum, leaving Dick and me stumbling over each other and our sapling poles, trying to remain upright on two remaining barrels while the deck began to separate and disintegrate beneath our feet.  

Finally we both fell off laughing and splashing as the raft broke apart with no barrels to support the frame. We learned the meaning of "flotsam" as we watched our creation float away in pieces.

We were wet, muddy, and smelled like something between fishy stagnant water and the inside of an out-house.  Our boat building took probably 7 hours; our voyage had lasted less than 15 minutes.

As we walked homeward, bluejeans sticking to our legs while drying in the setting sun, our dogs danced ahead, happy to be on firm ground.  We began devising a story that we agreed would convince our parents what caused our miserable condition.  It had to be believable, in order to assure we weren't sent to bed without supper. 

I watched Becker's Barn burn down one summer evening.  When cleanup began, farmers nearby joined in to haul most debris down to the fence line adjoining Sugar Creek. We were 10 years old and that trash pile would beome our secret treasure for the remainder of the summer in 1949.  

Dick was the first to concoct the plan to build a raft.  Drawing his plan in the mud, we laid charred framing timbers on the ground.  With baling twine we lashed together 2 frames that would hold 4 empty 55 gallon barrels. On top we lashed a deck of short planks to carry crew and cargo; namely Dick with his dog Penny, me with my dog Reno.

Ready for sea-trials we pushed the contraption into the swirling waters, then boarded her along with our dogs, and each of us armed with a fresh cut sapling to control direction.

It did float!  Off we went - but mostly in circles because my sapling was longer than Dick's.  We never decided who should be captain. While Dick and I argued who should push when and how, the dogs became agitated.  

​Reno became the first to abandon ship., not without consequences.

"Growing up" in rural small-town Ohio provided children a vast amount of freedom to create from imagination. One example of this freedom was a day-long summertime project of creating a raft cobbled together by me and my buddy, using trash from a burned-down barn dumped beside a creek.

Dick and I named our creation Super-Structure Raft.   So memorable was our little adventure that it became an example when offering a drawing class encouraging my also-aging students to illustrate a personal story in cartoon fashion.  

Let me present on my website this 3-part illustrated story of our adventure: Dick with his dog Penny; and me with my dog Reno.

(P.S.  I recently heard from Dick's adult daughter, still living in Ohio. She had probably heard this story from her father, well before his death from ALS.  
I dedicate these February post series as a personal remembrance of our private celebration - "Ursa Major Day".

........................   To be continued    .............