It has been a while since I have written, shame on me. So, to make up for it, I am writing about one of the best memories in our family – our annual stop at Pymatuning State Park, to feed the fish. This is one of the state parks and reservoirs, in the northwest corner of Pennsylvania. We would vacation at Geneva-on-the-Lake, Ohio and then take the back roads back home. My Father made his living as a tire salesman, traveling the Pennsylvania, Ohio, and West Virginia tri-state countryside. He didn’t need maps as he always knew how to get to his stops at many gas stations and small tire dealerships and then would take another road back and not get lost – except every year at the turn into Pymatuning.

We loved to stop at the dam and Linesville spillway, where the fish hatchery was split into two sections by the causeway road. On one side, people could fish but I never saw anyone catch anything. However, the other side was where the fun was. People looked down the slope at thousands and thousands of carp and other fish, so thick that the ducks would walk across their backs. The families would throw stale bread to the fish below who clamored over each other to gulp down large chucks of bread. It was especially entertaining to toss an entire loaf of rounded bread and watch it bounce around like a beach ball on a windy day, as even the ducks raced from the back of one fish to another. Okay, maybe it wasn’t Disney World but it certainly was a delightful time and children just screamed with joy. (I heard that some time ago that the state officials tried to stop people from feeding the fish but that was not about to happen. You can still go there today and catapult large chucks of bread to the fish below.)

So, now back to the other part of the story. When we would go to Geneva-on-the-Lake, there would be my Mother and Father, usually four of us five girls and either my Aunt Alice or Grandmother Duncan with us. We would all crowd in the car, Mom, Dad and the youngest child in the front and the rest of us squeezed into the back seat. Someone always stuck sitting with her legs and feet on the hump that ran down the middle of the car. As Grandma was only 4 foot 10 inches, we tried to stick her in that position. And we would stop at a road side grocery store in a small town along the way and pick up some “jumbo” (Pittsburghese for bologna), bread and a dessert. This time is was a strawberry pie with mounds of real whipped cream. The store only had a bottom of a pie box so Grandma got the duty of safely holding the pie on her lap during the drive. When we stopped at Pymatuning, we would have sandwiches, pie and Kool-Aid.

Each year Dad would drive at the speed limit, 55 mph, and each year Dad would miss the turn to the spillway and fish hatchery. I mean, he would miss it every single year without fail. And Mom would yell out, “Chuck, you missed the turn.” Dad would slam on the brakes and we would make a quick turn into the hatchery. (Okay, I think you can see what is going to happen next.) Once again, Dad missed the turn, Mom yelled out, Dad hit the brakes and — Grandma did a full face plant right into the strawberry pie and all of the whipped cream. She looked like something out of a Three Stooges movie, just her eyes showing through all of the white, fluffy whipped cream on her face. My sisters started to laugh, the norm in our family when something like this happens. I broke into tears as “Grandma ate all the pie.” I don’t remember any of us getting any pie but the people in the other cars forgot about feeding the fish for a short time as they gawked at us exiting the car. Oh, thank goodness for the days before cell phone cameras.

Pymatuning State Park references

http://www.dcnr.state.pa.us/stateparks/findapark/pymatuning/index.htm

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pymatuning_State_Park_%28Pennsylvania%29