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The Fort
At an early age Jon and I knew the pride we could achieve through the construction of something unexpected of our own abilities. We were children of union men. Our fathers taught us everything we knew by watching and helping them around the house. From mixing cement to hanging a painting on the wall, we thought we knew it all. And though, there is nothing more gratifying than impressing your dad, we were not about to simply build a tree house, we were going to war. It's a shame, all we really wanted was a home away from home, a miniature house to test our craftsmanship, and a place we could be free and self sufficient from society, instead we were forced to build...the Fort.
I grew up with my best friend Jon in our old neighborhood. We lived only three houses apart on the same block, and it was on our side of the road just beyond our backyards where the forest line started. Only a shallow, narrow creak divided yard from wood. It wasn't a large forest, one could walk across it in about an hour in either direction. It was a typical Bucks County forest, dense with thorn bushes and trees of all ages and varieties. We would walk along deer paths or make our own trails and in doing so we would come across some interesting pieces of bygone America. The things we would find dumped by farmers years ago would really excite us. Old bottles were abundant, and then there were a couple rusty classic Chevrolets from the fifties, and even a horse and buggy carriage suffocated by thousands of vines and dark green growth.
We had an idea of creating some form of protective structure in the woods where we could relax and take refuge from the weather if need be. Combined with the discovery of some scrap wood below Jon's deck we decided it was time to put our skills to the test and begin construction. We started by cutting a new trail into an area completely surrounded by briars so that any wandering animals wouldn't just mosey in and cause a problem. The location was just inside the forest which made it fairly easy for us to haul our tools and lumber from our house to this spot.
Our supplies were limited at first but after a few days of constantly striking hammer to nail we had erected a nice little frame work. Built on a small wood foundation, it was basically an eight foot cube with a five foot high screen door for an entrance. The framework was covered in a think dark green tarp which we had cut two squares out for windows. We were pretty fond of our accomplishment but it was not going to last for long. The sounds of our working had been bouncing off the trees and echoing out into the neighborhood attracting curious nuisances.
Only a few days after the original completion of our shelter someone had discovered its whereabouts and in failing to get through the door, which we kept padlocked, had used a box cutter to slash holes in the tarp. It was a huge despair we felt when it was realized that it was not admiration but jealousy that some looked on our structure with. We called it the Fort now, and it was time to rebuild with defense in mind, every board we attached now used two nails for every one we might have used before. The Fort was to withstand the test of time.
We needed to strengthen everything we had put up initially. Jon's dad bought us eight sheets of one inch thick plywood which we attached to the outer walls after putting up some studs inside for support. From my house we found some tongue and groove cedar planks which were assembled like a puzzle on the roof. A small hinged door was cut in which led down a ladder to the inside. We installed two doors for the same opening one swung in and one out. The inner door was a solid two inches equipped with three dead bolts, and the outer just a standard house door cut down to fit. We finished by covering the roof with a waterproof rubber sheet and then the green tarp again over top and down the plywood walls.
I can't say we were not attacked again and triumphant because the better you build something the more fun it is to destroy. The assailants were never the same people every time and we were never there when the damage was done, but you can tell they had different styles. So the cycle of rebuilding would always continue. We would add on something new like a deck with an awning and they'd rip it down, carpets and tables for the inside and they pull them out and burn them.
Jon and I eventually moved out of that neighborhood, and although the Fort had been reduced to nothing more than its original plywood cube shape, it remains. We go back sometimes to look. It still stands sturdy, bearing the battle wounds only we could tell about which happened more than a decade ago. It is covered in graffiti smells like wet dog inside but I'd still take shelter there if it so happened to rain.
