Surprise!

Ballard Crew! Mark the date; today we’re exactly one year from where we started. And because of you, all yesteryear’s joyful times seem like yesterday! Hear the bugs and bullfrogs, see the moon crossing the water! And the moms cooking dinner, the dads working in the city...

We all have our favorite Ballard memories, too many to count. Here’s one I remember, the night a State Trooper came tearing up our dusty road to warn us about a bloodthirsty maniac whom just hours before had escaped from Matawan Prison (“for the criminally insane”) – which was located about 20 miles west of Ballard.

It was a weekday, early evening, and all the dads were down in the city. The Trooper said they had reason to believe the maniac was headed our way, and he was desperate. To say the least, Mr. Trooper (first cousin to “Barney Fife”) put the Ballard moms into a full-blown panic; all retreated to their cabins, shut the windows and locked their doors. Yes, “death” stalked the night air, even under our beds.

But some of us slipped out like US Marines, our single-shot, 22-caliber rifles loaded for maniac! Even the dogs volunteered, as we crept through the dark toward Milltown Road. When we reached the entrance to the camp, we couldn’t see anything – except the lightening bugs. We couldn’t hear anything, either, the frogs and crickets were making such a racket. And the water crashing over the dam, it sounded like Niagara Falls. Still, we took up positions, boys being men, ready for the turkey shoot. All those westerns from RKO and Loew’s were finally going to pay off!

We waited and waited, at least ten minutes, but that desperate, homicidal maniac never showed up. Worse, when we got back to our cabins, we didn’t know the passwords. After all, what clever, desperate maniac wouldn’t just say, “Open the door, Ma, it’s ‘ME’!”

Happy Birthday, Ballard Crew!