I grew up on the outskirts of Bridgeton. It’s located in the Southern part of New Jersey on the Cohansey River. My family lives on a small farm where we grow vegetables and raise chickens. My father ekes out a meager living that he supplements by working in the glass factory in Bridgeton.
However, all the memories of my childhood begin and end on the muddy banks of the Cohansey River. My best friend Blue and I have our fishing rods hidden inside a hollowed-out tree near the river. When the three o’clock bells rings, we rush out the school door. We take off our sneakers and tie the shoelaces together and sling them over our backs. We set off for the river. It takes us about twenty minutes to get there. In those twenty minutes we discuss our deepest feelings about baseball, girls and the world, as we know it.
In the summer we go skinny dipping, in the deepest part of the river within the boundaries of Cohansey Park. There is a small zoo populated by a menagerie of animals. The occupants of the zoo include cast offs of small-time circus including a lion that seems to be suffering from mange. A quadrant of mischievous chimps whose main occupation is flinging dung at visitors and grinning with all their yellowed teeth. There’s a pack of wolves that rarely show themselves in the light of day. They come out at night to howl at the unforgiving moon.
Blue and I pretend we’re explorers in the African jungles as we swim au naturale as the king roars on. There are vines that hang from ancient gnarled trees. We climb like monkeys up to the branches that hang over the swirling river. Then we swing back and forth and jump into the river below. The water is really cold even on the hottest August afternoon. The current moves quickly especially after a heavy storm. But Blue and I are both strong swimmers.
Summer is a magical period in a child’s life when time seems suspended. I don’t see or feel that there’s an end to it. Blue and I are young and brave and impervious to everything. Our twelfth summer is one that I’ll never forget or regret.
The winter arrives early that year. We receive a snowfall up to our knees before Thanksgiving. Blue and I build a snow fort in the woods next to the river. The zoo animals are all hiding deep in their wooden dens. We decide to take a closer look at the river. I’m first to put my foot on the icy surface. It’s white and seems hard as a rock. We slide from one side to the other on our booted feet.
One of us gets the idea to climb up our favorite tree and jump down onto the ice. Blue climbs to the top branch yelling “Geranimo.” at the top of his voice. So loud that it wakes up the King. He lets out a mighty roar. Blue flies out over the frozen river and releases the vine. He hits the ice with both feet on the ground. He smiles from ear to ear. There’s a second roar and the ice beneath Blue’s feet begin to crack and shatter.
I yell, “Blue run, get off the ice and get to the shore.”
Blue’s face registers surprise and then fear. He gets down on his knees and moves forward but the ice continues to break and a rapidly expanding hole appears. “Go Blue, go.”
Blue disappears into the murky depths. I see his hands rise up out of the waters as he tries to grab onto the edges of the icy hole. He slips down below the surface of the water and is gone.
I climb down that tree faster then I ever have. I get down on the ground and grab a branch and slide across the frozen river on my stomach. I reach the hole and look for Blue. I see him below the surface of the ice. There are bubbles of air coming out of his mouth and a silent scream. I stick my arm down into those icy depths. I try to reach him with the branch. He grasps it momentarily and then I watch in horror as the current pulls him away.
I don’t know what to do, should I stay to watch him drown or run for help? The ice beneath me begins to crackle and break. I scoot back to the shore and run. I run faster than I have ever run. I see a man standing along the shoreline. I scream at the top of my lungs. “Help, help my friend is under the ice. I need help.”
“I’m coming son, hold on I’ll get some rope.”
I run back to the shore and move out onto the ice. I can see Blue beneath the ice being pulled farther and farther down the river. I don’t see any more bubbles coming out of his mouth. The tears are freezing on my face. I know that I have lost my best friend.
They didn’t find Blue that day. He’s found three days later at the mouth of the Delaware River. Everyone in Bridgeton attends his funereal. The Tabernacle Baptist Church sings every spiritual they know that day. We form a line a mile long and carry Blue to the Old Broad Street Cemetery. They bury Blue next to his great, great grandfather. His coffin is covered with white roses. I’ve never saw a face as sad as his mother’s that day. Except for the one that stared hallowed-eyed back at me in the mirror.
I’ll never go back to the river again. I lost more than my best friend that day. I lost my innocence, my childhood and my sense that nothing can touch me or do me harm. It drowned and was dragged down to those murky depths along with Blue.