A Ferry Tale

My dad's favorite place in the whole entire world was the island of Galveston, Texas.  We spent most of our vacations there, and even if we went somewhere else, we still would go to Galveston for the day at least once.

One of the best parts of the trip was riding the ferry from Point Bolivar across Galveston Bay to the island.  It was the only way to get there from where we lived.

It was so much fun that even after we started renting cabins on the Bolivar Peninsula, my dad and I would drive down, park, and just ride the ferry back and forth a few times.

Back in those days, there were three ferries-- the R.S. Sterling, the Cone Johnson, and the Gibb Gilchrist. While any ride was fun, our favorite ferry was the Cone Johnson. The trip was just that much better when we got to ride that one.  If we had chips or bread to feed the seagulls, well, that was as close to perfect as you could get.

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Of those three, only the Gilchrist is still in operation today.  I know it's progress, but it's still kind of melancholic to know that my childhood --and yes, I almost consider them friends-- are gone.

When I was 7 ...ish, I lost my first tooth.  My mother told me to put the tooth under my pillow, and the tooth fairy would come in while I was asleep, take my tooth and leave me money. 

This confused me.  "How does she get into the room?" I asked.

"She just flies in at night," was my mother's reply.

I was still confused.  "But how does she fit?"

"She's very tiny,"  my mother told me.

Looking back on it now, it all seems kind of silly.  But I think I'm the only kid in the world who --instead of a tiny winged pixie-- had a miniature boat flying into her room

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to trade her tooth for a quarter.

.**Photos courtesy of Galveston.com