My uncle Russ Adams, worked there before he started building his famous gravies. Somewhere around this period of time I caught my first striper with uncle Russ and his wife, my Aunt Janet. Alas it was only seventeen and half inches and he threw it back. Right then and there I decided to hate him until he died, and did. What a rotten thing to do to a Spider Boy at the docks at the age of ten. It was also at this time I decided to get even with him and the world. I would simply grow up and learn to catch more stripers than anyone else.
Little did I know then that another symptom of this affliction had raised its scally head. I found myself knocking on the neighbor’s doors with my rusted red wagon selling my day’s catch of flounder and sea bass, door to door. The trap had closed on me forever. I was actually making expense money, doing what I liked doing best – fishin’.
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