**I did run yesterday evening (A little 5 mile run) while stopping to
visit a neighbor I always wave at and wanted to at least check in….long story
short….he ended up being from Boone County (where dad is from) and we know some
of the same people…go figure….funny what a small world)
I heard this song on my way home last night and it seemed
appropriate to blog about. It kinda
brought some tears to my eyes as the personal meaning it means to me. Also, like many other days, the timing seemed
funny after my blog I posted, maybe that’s why it caught my attention as much
as it did.
A few trips ago back when I was at home visiting…we all were
talking about fishing. I had showed dad
the pictures through the TV from my camera of kids at the reunion fishing and
all the fish they caught. We couldn’t
help but tell the story of “the one that got away” at Crystal Lake. You know we all have “that one” that makes a
true fishing story exaggerated enough to think it possibly was the biggest fish
you’ve ever seen “around these parts”.
I meant to go through some pictures last night and try to
find some photos of fishing when I was younger, so I may need to come back and
update some later.
I have some really fond memories of Crystal Lake (for those
of you not from around here, it’s NOT the one from the horror movie Jason)
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| Dad Being able to fish Shortly after his Brain Surgery procedure (at Crystal Lake). He was able to get around better for a short while after that. |
As kids I was either running laps
around the single lane black top path, walking around fishing in all the right
spots, laps of riding bike, swimming, in Ryan Jones’s case falling into the
lake, soaking up some sun, etc. It goes
without saying as soon as darkness crept up you could find us on the dock
setting up camp for a night full of catfishing (don’t forget the chicken liver,
my secret hot dog bait, and whatever bait someone mentioned the night before
they caught some with). Sometimes one of
us may have taken a break to make a lap around the lake to see how everyone
else was doing, but I usually stayed put to show off our catches upon anyone
passing by our dock because we had a reputation to keep (ok actually at the
time I was too young to drive) J I think catfishing is a contributor to the
lesson of learning patience. It’s just
too tempting to reel a little bit of the line in to see if you just might feel
a little tug at the other end, or worry maybe your bait was gone. Sitting there in our chairs, with our
flashlights handy, surrounded by whatever disgusting smell of bait we chose maybe
isn’t for everyone, but for me and dad…..it was perfect.
Now…the one that got away….One day Rick and Isaiah were there
for the day visiting (thank goodness they were so I had some witnesses) and I
was on the dock casting away. Upon
reeling in one cast I got a bite…a big one…you know one that makes the pole
jerk and pull and bend which induces panic and probably a few slight squeals. Of course quickly followed by the screaming
of “DAAAAADDDDDDDD”. I’m certain those
butterflies in my stomach added to the pitch of my voice which created panic to
dad and Rick that something bad happened and they came running down the steps. (Honestly speaking I don’t blame them; we
usually were up to something) This fish
jerked, pulled, swam in, swam out…dad kept telling me to let it wear itself out
and I kept wanting to reel it in. We
finally fought the fish for what seemed like 3 days….(hence the true fisherman
exaggeration here)…. Now…here is where
the story goes bad….. I handed the rod
to dad…. Regret #1 (or maybe no regret
at all because now I get to place this blame on him). I was probably driving him nuts upon my way
of handling the fish so he decided he better take over. We finally got the fish close to the dock and
dad started to pull it up and it was bending the reel really bad, so Rick
decided to reach down and see if he could pull it up. (It was a bass) Well Dad thought Rick had a hold of it, so he
jerked on the line to do I don’t know what, however that resulted in the hook
coming out of the fish and as all big fish stories go….the fish wrestled away
and swam off without us getting it out of the water completed to see just how
big….But I do promise you it was at least 12-15 inches “halfway” out of the
water…… As I type this I feel the
disappointment creep back….ohhh thank goodness it was dad holding the pole J
I do think there were a few days of silence between us and I’m
almost certain I didn’t allow him to touch my pole after that. Even though that fish probably would have
broken the line far before that if I had been holding the pole, but those are
just minor details in the midst of this.
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| Still Love Fishing :) |
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| Just a little Catch for the Day....notice the 2 chairs sitting on the dock...they always say, try to find a man who reminds you of your dad....(don't worry I reel in my own fish now) :) |
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| Carter's Fish, my nephew, (We may need to stretch the truth on this one when we tell pappaw what we caught in his pond) |
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| Sophie's (my niece) Pretty Fish to tell pappaw About |
I treasure all those talks we shared waiting on a pole or
bobber to move (even just a little jiggle to stir up some hope) all those
nights. I’m certain that’s where dad and
I became best friends.
Now…I suppose I need to go looking for the next big catch to
stir up a good story. As the saying goes…
“Nothing
makes a fish bigger than almost being caught.”
