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(Memories continued from page 4)
The source of our water for years was a pump in the riverbed. There were many times we had to be careful with water usage because the electricity was out or something was wrong with the pump and Daddy was down there fixing or starting it by flashlight. (Quite often held by one of the children). The water was pumped under the roadway, up the hill to our reservoir. Talk about water quality. We were a healthy family, which must attest to the theory that being exposed to germs in small amounts kept one immune to serious diseases. Watching in fascination as the reservoir was drained occasionally to remove the drowned animals and debris that had been introduced to our water system it didn't seem to occur to me that this was the source of my drinking water.
Ron recalls sitting on the hillside watching our grandfather poaching ducks in the river bottom. They were put in baskets and covered with grass to escape detection. Guess it was okay to watch but he couldn't participate in these unlawful pursuits. Try to find a duck worth eating in that river today!
In the '40's walking home alone in the dark after attending the movie in Lakeside one could find me walking down the white line of the highway (Highway 67) singing to keep myself company and maybe to scare away the coyotes. Usually there was nothing in the riverbed except grazing cattle but I had to make sure. Back then if the moon wasn't out you were in the "pitch black" night with no city lights reflecting to light up the night sky. This made the middle of the road seem safer than maybe falling over the bank in the dark. At times it was possible to walk that mile in the evening without seeing one car.
While walking home from school with several classmates I had the dubious pleasure of jumping off that first bridge. While the line was being built to bring water from San Vicente Dam in the late '40's there were extremely high piles of sand created by digging the trench for the pipe. Someone, (definitely not me) decided jumping into them would be great fun. Since I was very uncomfortable with heights you can guess who was the last to jump. No, not jump just fall and hope the landing would be successful. I am grateful to still be here to tell of this idiocy as my landing was within only a two or three feet of the bottom of the pile.
Our younger brother Fred has more recent memories of liberating the warning lanterns which were hung from the wooden bridge that crossed the creek at Moreno and Willow before it was demolished in the 50's.
My family has been watching the river here in Lakeside since 1881. My great grandparents first homesteaded on land now covered by El Capitan reservoir. My Grandparents both worked on the flume line, which was built to bring water to El Cajon Valley and La Mesa. My Dad and Aunt Marion were on hand also (probably three and four years old) as they had to remain quiet under the kitchen work table while my grandmother prepared food for the work crews.
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