Set adrift in the Potomac River, saved by my sister at 12, and don't forget the air conditioning!

I have small snippets of memories from my youngest years at "the cabin" on "the river" in Virginia. The older I get, the more precious those memories become as those remembrances can become lost to us as we age.

Barbara Linton Segar, left, my sister, Pris, and Judy Ullman of Fredericksburg, posed for a pic in 2003 when we visited the river. Behind them is the late Bizzell's cottage – which had been bought and remodeled long before this photo was taken. Through the Fredericksburg Facebook page, I just learned that Angie Hallberg and her husband bought the cottage and remodeled it and were probably enjoying it at the time we were visiting. Note the creek behind us – it's the one mentioned in the previous "snake" blog. The terrain is the same, just the houses and people have changed.  

One memory in particular is from being set adrift on the Potomac River in an inner tube. I was probably about 5 or 6 years old and had been coerced into the inner tube by the Bizzell's granddaughter, Tayloe, who was at least twice my age and someone I followed around like a little puppy dog.

Tayloe seemed so sophisticated – tall and tan with long, straight blond hair – I wanted to look like and be her. She lived in Florida and thought she was the cat's meow and that it was beneath her to have to spend the week or so with her grandparents at the river where there wasn't anything "happening."

So, during the church picnic that year – probably 1962 or 3 – while everyone was a little intoxicated and/or looking the other way, she talked me into getting into that inner tube, probably telling me she'd go out there with me. She shoved me out into the water and went back to the party.

I was too young to be afraid. After all, I spent most of my vacation out in an inner tube myself, albeit under the supervision of Dad, Mom or Pris.

I'm not sure how long I was out there, but when someone discovered I was missing and went looking at the river, I was way out there in the channel and they had to send a motorboat after me.

I still wasn't scared, but I still hadn't thought yet about how those shark's teeth got to the river's edge if there weren't supposed to be any sharks in that river.

I was a little more wary of Tayloe after that incident.

One year when I was about 12 years old, Lee Bizzell offered to take Pris and I out fishing in his motorboat. We eagerly agreed, for we both loved Lee and we loved fishing even more than that.

It was to be a morning of interesting events.

We climbed in the small boat with Lee having started up the motor and heading out – steering us toward the lighthouse – I have no idea the name of the lighthouse – it was small and squat and had rocks surrounding it. I have researched lighthouses in that particular area of the Potomac River and the ones I could find were dismantled by 1963, which, was long before my experience of fishing out there.

Pris, left, and myself sitting on the porch of the new cabin constructed after our hosts, Dee and Pop Linton deeded parts of the property to their children. Their daughter, Barbara, graciously hosted us one afternoon for lunch and time enjoying our favorite view. Top right is a sketch of the lighthouse where we fished.

However, it is possible it is the Maryland Point Lighthouse, but research shows that was also dismantled in 1963 and I was older than 7 when we took the boat out there to fish.

Suddenly, as we sped out into the river, Lee stood up, all 300+ pounds of him and instructed my sister to take the controls as he'd forgotten to put the plug in the boat. Sure enough, there was water pouring into the boat. As Pris gained control, he shouted warnings to her for this and that – including to steer clear of the underwater wires mooring the old abandoned boat near Chatterton's Landing.

Thankfully, Lee plugged the boat, I bailed water and Pris was happy to relinquish the controls back to Lee. It didn't take us long to reach our destination – out in the middle of the channel, close to the lighthouse. The water that day was so clear that I could see the bottom and was astounded that it simply wasn't that deep close to the lighthouse.

We cast our lines out and started bringing in the perch. Lee was up front, I was next - straddling the bench seat and Pris was sitting facing forward on the next bench seat. Once again, Lee stood up and walked from one side of the boat to the other to get a sandwich out of the cooler, and with the amount of his weight changing from side to side, I began to slide on the bench seat, moving rather quickly heading for the water as the boat tilted hard to the side.

Pris calmly stuck her foot out and caught me just before I went overboard, her line still in the water and not even looking at me – she never missed a beat. She saved me while Lee had himself another howling laughing fit over yet another Liz/Pris event.

Anyone who has enjoyed time on the Potomac River or even lived in Virginia knows that it gets hot in the summer – blistering hot. Our weeks at the river were no exception. Since we were near a large body of water and up on a bluff, we enjoyed a pretty steady breeze all day until about 4 p.m., when the breeze died down completely without fail – every single day.

Then the cabin would become unbearably hot and since it was near dinnertime, my mother would slave over the stove cooking super – her face beet red, wearing her underwear and a bib apron and nothing else. Being menopausal didn't help the heat situation either.

It was, however, cocktail hour for the adults and at least they were able to imbibe a little and not care how hot it had gotten as a few Tom Collins or bourbon and water would be downed in expectation of some of Mom's down home cooking.

We did, however, have ourselves some relief for the heat. Once the cabin had been expanded in the mid-1960s, my mother always made room for an air conditioner in the trunk of Dad's old Buick LeSabre.

And we were ever so grateful for it come bedtime.