Some of my fondest memories from childhood come from when my family, my future step-family, grandmother, and cousins all lived in the same mobile home park (he all had separate homes). When I went out to play with my two cousins, Eddie and Mikey, we left no stone unturned. Even though we were not allowed to leave the park, we did. We were also restricted to stay within the family block and not allowed to play or ride our bikes in the adult section of the park.

One day when we were covertly exploring the adult side of the park, we were hiding out beside the big trash dumpsters when we heard something thrashing inside of them. We recruited Mikey, who was the youngest, to go in and find the source. Eddie and I boosted him up and over and a few moments later, Mikey comes up with a big catfish. “They’re still alive, we’ve got to save them!”

Actually, there were two catfish and our plan was to bring them home and put them in the tub. However, on our way to the family side of the park, we pasted the big fountain and waterfall that bifurcated the two sections of the park. The catfish desperately needed oxygen so we put them inside of the fountain. The two fish floated upside down for a while, but then to our surprise, flipped upright and began to swim about the fountain. Mission accomplished.

Word spread across through the family side of the neighborhood that two big catfish were swimming in the pond and soon a group of kids and teenagers were at the scene. That size of a crowd draws attention and soon the park maintenance guy came and dispersed the crowd. My cousins and I sat on our bikes from a distance as we watched the man pull the catfish from the pond, smack their heads on the sidewalk, and through them into a small trashcan he had attached to his golf cart. We had all thought, because of us they got to live a little longer and at least they didn’t suffer the cruel death of suffocating in the end. They went quick.