“a land called Honalee”

It was the closest body of water to my childhood home at the southern edge of a small town in Indiana.  It could be seen from the highway that split the town in two if you were paying attention and didn’t blink, just north of the sewage treatment facility.  In retrospect, it was likely created from runoff from this facility, but to a kid it was a magical place we dubbed “Honalee” after the land of Puff the Magic Dragon.

And when I say “we” I mean myself and Ricky.  We lived two houses apart on the same road that constituted the southernmost border of Orleans, Indiana.  There were arguments about who saw it first and what it would be called.  There were always arguments between us which were mostly just attempts to shore up our insecurities or to try and assert some kind of dominance over the other.  Ricky won the naming war with “Honalee” and I had to admit I liked it.

The thing to do was create a seaworthy craft to explore the pond of Honalee even though it couldn’t have been more than twenty foot across and about thirty or forty foot long.  The idea came from finding a wooden pallet in the weeds that could serve as a raft.  The next step was to find an inner tube from a car or truck that we could inflate, the bigger the better.  When this was found and transported across the highway we lashed it to the bottom of the pallet with rope and found a long branch to navigate with, a la Huckleberry Finn.

I don’t remember who attempted to shove off first, but there was only room for one.  I am sure there was an argument about it.  I was short and skinny, Ricky less so by a good bit, so it was probably me who attempted the maiden voyage.  It was exceedingly wobbly and not a very practical craft.  I remember shoes and partial legs getting submerged from slips and missteps which, considering the source of the water, is pretty gross.  

We must have lost interest pretty soon thereafter because I do not remember any more adventures on Honalee after that.  And now that I think about it I seem to recall that Ricky’s Mom found out what was going on and explained the sewage connection, forbidding any further visits.  But for a few days there in my childhood it was something new, exciting, and full of possibilities.  For a brief moment we had created a magical place from the communal muck of our little town.

***