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A superb memory comes from an early morning on Lake Superior after picking nets. (Gus would set in the evening and I’d pick early the next day.)

I was just in, transferring fish into tubs, when I heard an engine. Not the wardens, I hoped, wishing for a no-bother morning. Wasn’t the enemy. Instead, an unknown fisherman was headed west in a beautiful gas boat with white spray hood and a cloud of vapor trailing.

Compared to our Lutsen-built skiff, a gas boat was a thing of pure beauty. Of course, its fishing purpose was different from a skiff, but readers will have to think on that for themselves. Thing is, I got to see that for myself and understand what little of it I could on my own.

In life, as opposed to click-world, direct experience counts for more despite always being in some way or other limited by perception and experience. ‘N other words, click info and opinions are worth exactly what they cost. Nada.

Now instead of a Lake Superior scene with a romantic gas boat trailing clouds of vapor, let me cut closer to the more recent curious circumstance of algae becoming poly tickling.

Don’t care which side you wanna take, take water + some nutrient + warmth + sun and you get algae. Huge lake or goldfish bowl, works the same.

Beyond age 10 or so you should know enough to see for a fact there’s nothing, nada, political ‘bout algae. A slower learner, I didn’t learn this for m’self until grade 8 when my five gal aquarium turned green as an Irish charm.

Those days, Woolworth sold tropicals, carted home in oxygenated sacks in winter kept under a boy’s coat for the trip home and eventual release. The kind folk at Woolworth (no doubt deeply sympathetic to the daft dreams of teeners intent on aquatic mastery they hoped would rival Mons. Cousteau) obliged much as anyone could in days when none of us knew all that much about tropical chemistry, many of us no better today, eh.

Slimy green aquarium. What to do? Filter working fine. Heater not too hot. Regulating light according to season.

What the heck? How to get rid of green muck?

Commercially if not scientifically aware, Woolworth had multiple solutions. Varieties of snails and algae-eater catfishes. Despite their hardy shells, snails are surprisingly susceptible to dying in the midst of plenty.

One of the seven deadly sins comes to mind. Could that be it? Too much good thing? Eat yourself to death (not unheard of ‘mong humans, is it)? Tried to works. Scrapers, less light, upping the filter cleaning and changing, suction cleaning of gravel, more plants, fewer plants, I tried it all, along with enriching Woolworth along the way by purchasing replacement eaters and anything else on offer, along with new fish to replace ones killed off or worried into demise by my war on algae.

Anyway, b & g, when I heard algae in the DC Reflecting Pool I well knew the irrepressible and cunning nature of the enemy.

Also knew Woolworth would be no help, except possibly to provide a long-lived Beta for diversion.
Again, anyway, what in tarred nation is less political than pond scum and algae? (Though I bet some will disagree regarding the scum. Their choice.)

My point, algae isn’t political, partisan or bipartisan. It’s algae, completely independent of affiliation by party. It’s not even in a swing position. There’s no side to it.

We could add “cides” of various sorts or pumps and filters to combat temperature, sun and water, but the reflecting pool would smell like it was in a Y-M-W-CA and probably need to be pumped fast enough to resemble the Colorado running in the bottom of the Canyon Pretty Nice, some say Grand. Point is, people who don’t know uses of gas boats or what makes algae tick are entitled to opinions; worthless but suitably theirs.

Yodeling empty opines is a low level of accomplishment. Give a puddin’ head anything to yowl ‘bout and they will, and feel proud as punch doing so, as if there was something of worth in mocking algae or admonishing a tornado. “Bad wind! Go back to whatever color place you came from!” Puts ‘em in the’r place.

In case you question (as y’ should) veracity based on a bedroom aquarium I can go higher, t’ High School. Had a 30 or 40 gallon monster there to play with. Unused for years, it had become a bin for gum, scraps of papers and crumpled notes of (for the optimistic and romantic) love.

Step one was clean it out, frequently mourning at not knowing who wrote what note. Clean the gravel, a vacuum was of no use. Find the cover. Unbroken! A miracle. Test fill. No leaks. We were clearly in a zone occupied by the Grace of God.

Now fish! No fish. School wouldn’t buy fish. Drat. New plan. Big terrarium. Yes! Drain water, add soils and start a new environment.

First resident, a donated red belly snake. Crawled out (apparently good climbers). Never seen again, except maybe by annoyed custodian who put PAID to its belly.

Salamander (notoriously poor climbers) dug itself a hole and was rarely seen.

But, bright side, when located and enticed by a wiggly worm or crawly bug Mr. Slow Movin’ Mander got a move on. Yay! Thrashing worm and fleeing bugs were more fun watching die than anything the aquarium would have provided.

When you’re 15, watching life and death enact behind the safety of a glass wall is way more than you’ll admit when 30 or beyond.

Speaking of. Being Biology and all, one day couple of us thought microscope and hmmm. Where’d this semen come from? Not to be wasted (earlier sense of the word) it somehow got on a slide, on the platform and. Yow-yike! Seeing for fact there were living things (someone who slew many a tadpole this was creepy) inside an unnamed person’s body brought second hand (so t’ speak) knowledge to the world of reality.