One thing we both still remember vividly is the time we, on the spur of the moment, grabbed some Col. Sanders' Kentucky Fried Chicken and headed to Munden Point for a little weekday picnic--just the two of us. Everything was great until we opened the box of chicken and discovered that a few pieces still had feathers attached, even after cooking. Rather than get upset about this turn of events, we both got a good chuckle from it, and to this day, can't let a Kentucky Fried Chicken commercial on TV pass without making a crack about "with or without feathers."
All that aside, we walked down to the dock there on Oakum Creek this past Sunday, and because one of the benches there was empty, we decided to sit and talk a while. What appeared to be a family-fishing outing there kept us entertained. They all appeared to be fishing with worms and such, and all but one young girl and one young boy seemed to be fishing with heavy sinkers attached to their line. The air was filled with constant ker-plunking from those chunks of lead.
As I sat there watching those folks make cast after cast, I remembered some of my own childhood fishing adventures with Pop and my brother. Once our lines were in the water, Pop kept a close eye on my brother and me--not just to make sure we didn't fall in or wander off, but to ensure we left our lines in the water "long enough to catch a fish," as he always would tell us. There was none of this constant throwing it out and reeling it back in that I was witnessing Sunday as we sat there.
The gent who looked to be the elder member in this family gathering eventually caught a small catfish and, on his next cast, hung up in a stump or some other kind of trash on the bottom. In an effort to free his line, he started circling the bank to get a different angle on his pull. That action, too, also brought back a lot of memories. I couldn't tell you how many times I witnessed my dad or brother doing the same thing. I took my share of turns in that barrel, as well. And, as demonstrated by the gent Sunday, this action does pay off--at least some of the time.
After my wife and I had sat there on the bench a good spell, a young fella, his wife (I'm guessing), and their baby showed up at the dock. While the mom watched the baby, the fella readied his spinning rig for a cast. He finally was all set, but Murphy must have been sitting on his shoulder. As he snapped the rod forward, the line immediately went into the nearby tree and created one of the worst messes I've ever seen. He diligently tried to get the line free, so he could try again, but, alas, it wasn't in the cards. He eventually took the path of least resistance--the same one I would have taken much sooner--and reached up to snip the line. He then turned around and looked at me.
My only remark was, "Hey, don't feel bad. I've done the same thing more times than I can tell you."
He evidently just wanted to get away, though, 'cause they grabbed up all the fishing gear and young 'un and headed up the walkway. Soon thereafter, my wife and I also got up and started for the parking lot. It had been a nice day, we had enjoyed ourselves, and for just a few minutes, I had been able to relive a time in my life that I've always looked upon fondly. I'm so grateful my wife suggested this outing. It was the perfect way to spend Father's Day.
Sounds like a great day to me, Dad! Glad you two had a nice day. :)
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