By Irene Bausmith
“I made $11 today!” Our eight-year-old announced at dinner one warm Sunday evening. It was 1980, and the five of us sat eating steamed crabs at the picnic table in the back yard of our summer cottage in Ship Bottom on Long Beach Island.
“What? How?” howled his big brothers.
“Where’d this money come from?” Dad asked, picking up the crumbled bills Steve pulled one by one from his pocket.
“I sold twenty-two crabs to some people next to me that didn’t even know how to bait a crab trap,” he chuckled. “You told me we had enough crabs and not to bring any more home so, when they offered me fifty cents apiece, I took the money and dumped my catch into their empty basket. They also gave me three traps and said they would never use them again as long as I was there.”
“Where’d you get the bait?’ Dad asked. “I only gave you one bunker from the freezer this morning and told you only one trap.”
Our Stevie had a collection of traps, many found abandoned at his favoring crabbing spot just under the Route 72 overpass at the end of our street. Every morning the handlebars on his bike were strung with at least four traps, a bucket, and a bag with a couple of bunker from the bait freezer. He was the “Golden Boy” on the street, sharing his catch with neighbors and filling our freezer with more than we could eat.
“But I only gave you one bunker!” Dad pressed.
“I know,” said Steve. “But I got to thinking, at the Surf City Fishery, when they clean the fish, I’ve watched the guy chop off the heads, strip off the meat from the bone, and toss the rest into a big bucket at the back of the store. So, I rode up there yesterday, went to the back door and asked Chuck if I could have some of the leftovers for crab bait. He filled my plastic bait bag full, and said, “Stop by anytime kid. You can have all you want.”
“I tucked the bait bag in the shade of the trees behind the clothesline yesterday and took it with me this morning along with four extra traps, and I came home with all this money. But the best part,” he added, grinning from ear to ear, “Tom and Vinnie said they’d be back for more crabs tomorrow.”
I am glad my sons had a childhood that included summers, and experiences like this one on Long Beach Island.
