The Point: A Love Story

The Point: A Love Story
Harrisburg Magazine – September 2023
View in Harrisburg Magazine

Sitting on the warm concrete steps, breathing in the fresh water scent of the Susquehanna River with cicadas buzzing about, you can catch the gaze in the eyes of those who grew up taking in this view. Watching the Pride of the Susquehanna out of the water with another shoreline just past, slightly out of focus.  However, there are those who grew up seeing things from the other side of the same great river that divides the shores of the capital city. Across the Harvey Taylor bridge and about a mile upriver, sitting between the Enola rail yard and Wormleysburg, there’s a small place where the Conodoquinet Creek and the Susquehanna River meet. A place where even fewer teens who grew up in the early 2000’s spent many hot, summer days and humid nights at a place called The Point. 

 During the day, The Point fills in with people who lower their boats and park their trucks to spend a day fishing on the Susquehanna, people in waders fly fishing in the Conodoquinet Creek and even some kayakers treading from the creek into the river. Families stop by for a lunch at the picnic table and even photographers taking photos of the Capitol reflecting off the stillness of the river.

 There’s a dirt path leading to where you can still see a rope swing from the dare devils who climbed up the railroad tracks to jump into the cool water below. Those brave souls left their mark in the form of graffiti begging the next generation to make theirs. Many end up heading home or out to eat when the sun starts to set. But if you grew up nearby, you know that when the sun starts to set, there’s a grass path off the beaten dirt trail hidden underneath those railroad ties that only those who know where it is can see with the moonlight guiding them. Walking back, smelling the freshness of the Earth, hearing the rippling of the current in the creek, and seeing fireflies lighting the way, you can easily forget how close this all is to the city.

Be careful if you’re still barefoot from the day in the water! There are nails hidden in the dirt from the nail mill that stood in this very place. Going deeper into the woods you come to a fork in the path. You can either cross over the arches that still remain from that mill or you can continue walking down to sit underneath an arch, seeing the lights from the neighborhood across the creek. 

It is starting to get darker out now and you heard the tales that this whole town was once an Indian burial ground. You think you hear something in the distance, is that chanting and possibly the beat of a drum?

 Hanging back for a moment, all alone feeling just how small you are in the world. You know it’s late and there’s the smell of fire with the laughter of your friends up ahead so you keep walking. You ask yourself if you should just go home but no, don’t get scared now. You don’t want to be left out do you?

Saying you lived in West Fairview was looked at like you were from some unknown place within the West Shore. Growing up was so different when I was a teen and I’m glad I had that time to grow and experience a different side of the Harrisburg area than most did. I truly hope that teens today get to experience the freedom I had, to roam about under the moonlight and go home smelling like camp fire smoke.