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Take Time to Fish Between the
Cracks
The summer of 1972, my
brother and I were filling cricket and bait buckets for
Mr. K.C. Bray at the Sunset Marina on the Toledo Bend
Reservoir just south of Many, Louisiana.
It was just another hot,
humid, July in the southwest Louisiana. Each day the same
as yesterday and with almost certainty the same as it
would be tomorrow. The wind was so still that the Spanish
moss barely rustled in the old cypress trees. But these
were the type of days I liked, cause the fishing would be
good. Good fishing meant good tips.
Lil’ Brother and I never
did make a lot of money, but enough to keep us just short
of even on our account at Mr. K.C.`s store. Our daily
provisions consisted of two cokes, a moon pie, a Miss.
Dailey’s fresh made sandwich, and all the crickets we
needed to catch our supper. By 7:00 p.m., every evening we
would have our 3 bream apiece. We would gut `em, stick
`em, and cook `em over a little fire we would make on the
bank near our tent.
Lil’ Brother and I had
spent the last two summers camping on the banks of the
Bend. We fancied ourselves as a modern day Tom Sawyer and
Huck Finn. We were accountable to no one and responsible
for only our daily bread. Don’t get me wrong, we were
not bad kids nor did we come from a broken home. We had
loving parents, grandparents, and friends. We were just
lucky enough to grow up in a part of the world and in a
time that allowed us to live free, truly free.
Our parents would come to
the Bend on the weekends and we would get a reprieve from
our day-to-day attempts to “survive”. We didn’t know
until years later that mom and dad gave Mr. K.C. money to
cover our supper in the case fishing ever went bad. They
would bring us fresh clothes, comic books, candy, and
fresh tackle for our nightly fishing. They would stay for
the weekend then head for real world late on Sunday
Evening.
On Friday night we would
all go down to the dock. We would sit for hours talking
about the week’s events. Lil Brother and I would tell
about our adventures. Dad would tell us stories about the
jobs he was on. Dad was an ironworker and we were
fascinated by his stories of “walking in the air”. To
us he was a superhero. Saturday we would spend the day
fishing, swimming, and skiing.
Sunday morning was spent at
“church”. We would go down to the dock, bait a couple
of hand lines. We would then lower the hand lines through
the cracks in the dock. The really big fish would rest in
the shade, just under the dock. The best way to get to
them was to fish through the cracks where the two floating
partitions of the dock joined. While Lil’ Brother and I
would fish for the Big Ones, Daddy would read to us about
becoming “Fishers of Men”. Some of the best times of
my life were spent belly down on that old dock, coaxing
those big bluegills out with worms and crickets. As I look
back on it now, it wasn’t because of the fishing but
because of the time spent with Dad and Lil’ Brother.
Recently my dad came to
visit. I was in the midst of a major project and wasn’t
spending much time with him. Maybe a few minutes in the
morning and an hour or so at night, before I passed out
from exhaustion. On his last night, I finally got to tell
him about the new boat I just bought. About the rods and
reels, tackle, and accessories just waiting until we got a
chance to go fishing. I told him about the cabin on Toledo
Bend that we were going to rent, as soon as I got enough
time to go. I told him about how excited the kids were
when I had brought home new rods and reels for them, last
month. He seemed to enjoy the talk although he seemed very
quiet and almost sad.
My dad left that next
morning. As we shook hands, he drew me near and presented
me with an old box. He whispered, “The secrets to a
happy life are in here”. Dad was always a little strange
when it came to good-byes, so I just smiled, waved and
watched him slowly drive out of sight.
The small box was worn red
with a small picture of a man battling a giant bass. Below
the picture was the caption “Sunset Marina Toledo Bend
Many, Louisiana”. I slowly opened the box and smiled as
I became aware of its contents. Truly these were the
“secrets of life”. In the box was a small bible with a
bookmark with Matthew 4:19 printed on it. It had been a
while but I did remember, “Follow Me and I will make you
Fishers of Men”. Beside the Bible was a small hand line
wrapped in a piece of paper with my dad’s handwriting
scrawled on it. I unfolded the note and smiled as I read
the simple key to a happy life.
“Son, Make time to fish
through the cracks”.
Today isn’t just another
hot, humid, July day in southwest Louisiana. Not quite the
same as yesterday and with almost certainty the same as it
will be tomorrow.
“Hey Jon, throw dad
another moon pie”.
“Just a minute dad, I
think Erin’s got another one”.
“Be careful not to lose
him, it’s a little tricky getting ‘em back through the
cracks”.
“Hey dad”.
“Yeah, Jon”.
“Was fishing this good
when you were a kid?”
“Almost”.
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About
The Author
Terry
Lee Higginbotham - Owner of HuntStats.com
and The OuachitaGroup, Terry Higginbotham,
is an avid hunter, fisherman, and
outdoorsman. He runs a research project
studying the Whitetail Deer and the
American Wild Turkey. He delivers the
findings of this study through articles
and data published on HuntStats.com.
Visit http://www.HuntStats.com
or email him at: articles@HuntStats.com. |
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