My first was a 5.5-gallon...not 55, but 5.5...which, like everything else in the first years of my hobby, came from K-Mart when I was about 10, back in 1967. Illuminated with an old incandescent desk lamp, which also provided heat. It was the old steel-framed style of aquarium, with each individual pane of glass held in place with a hard, black tar-like substance; no stinkin' silicone for us! Gravel was a god-awful rainbow mix, a few pieces of quartz, a couple plastic ornaments. Filtration was an internal corner box filter, packed with charcoal and real honest-to-goodness fibreglass...no fancy-schmancy filter floss back then.
Fish included a couple swordtails, a Corydoras, a Blue Gourami and a few others who came and went...mostly went. The only really successful plant was a handful of Bladderwort that I found in a local marsh and threw in; it grew and flourished as a floater. Rooted plants tended not to live very well, possibly because of the 100% water changes done at least weekly, usually more often. These included removing all the gravel and rinsing it clean in a bucket...yes, every single time. My dad, under whose watchful eye I maintained the tank for the first few years, had little tolerance for algae, and none for bacteria. Biological filtration, you ask? Hah! It is to laugh...we knew very well that the only good bacteria were dead bacteria...
Looking back with fond memory, it's a bit astonishing that I grew so interested in the hobby, with all the work involved. I think I just enjoyed netting the fish
every single time and housing them in a bucket while the tank was purged. When the job was done, they were netted again and plopped back into the tank. We didn't have water conditioner, but we sure had chlorine. Back in those pre-chloramine days, this was dealt with simply by filling a bucket with fresh tap water and leaving it to stand a couple days until the next change.
My dad always said that I would "outgrow" my interest in keeping fish. He kept saying it for the next 12 or so years, before admitting defeat. It was the same with hunting, shooting, archery, motorcycles...he eventually accepted the fact that I would never grow up. Both our lives grew easier with that acceptance. )
I'm impressed with the young folks who begin today with 50- and 75-gallon tanks; those were the stuff of dreams when I started out.
