From Tannehill With Love

A Poem Inspired by Dandy Don's Thanksgiving Stories

By Roy Montz 

The year was 1946, and times were really tough,

But Mom and Dad and seven brothers seemed to have enough.

Daddy was a farmer of a 40-acre spread,

Who never made much money, but he kept us clothed and fed.

He worked all day, from dusk to dawn, and worked from row to row,

With sweat and tears he turned the soil his dad turned long ago.

With watermelons, cotton, corn, peas, and sugar cane,

He'd plow and plant without complaint and daily prayed for rain.

And Daddy's only respite from worry and despair,

When days were cold and rainy, or skies were clear and fair,

Were times when all my brothers would grab our fishing pole,

And head out with my daddy to our favorite fishin' hole... .

We'd dig a bunch of earthworms and walk half a mile,

And head to Dugdemona Creek to sit and fish awhile.

And once when I was 10 years old, I never will forget,

I did a really silly thing I always will regret.

My dad had found a little change laying in his drawer,

Then headed down to Winnfield and to Milan's Hardware Store.

With great anticipation, he bought a fishing lure,

Something called a Water Scout, he'd seen in some brochure.

And with this artificial bait, he headed home in haste,

With bass in Dugdemona Creek, there wasn't time to waste.

But chores and crops were waiting, his conscience was his guide,

And Daddy had his farming chores and set the lure aside.

With sunrise that next morning, my brother Tom and I,

Grabbed my daddy's Water Scout...with dreams of fish to fry.

We grabbed our poles and off to Dugdemona Creek we flew,

We thought we'd catch our supper...surely catch a prize or two.

We flipped the lure into the creek and, just as we thought,

A bass latched onto the Water Scout that Daddy just had bought,

And as that big Kentucky bass continued down the stream,

It snapped my line and, in the process, compromised our scheme.

There was no fish, there was no lure, our dreams broke with the line...

There'd be no joy in Tannehill, no fish on which to dine.

And as we turned to head back home, with bad news to convey,

We saw our dad behind us, as he slowly walked away.

Watching from behind us, he'd watched the scene play out,

And stood in total silence, as we'd lost his Water Scout.

Daddy never said a word, his silence spoke instead,

But Tom and I heard volumes in the words he never said.

We quickly sought a Water Scout with money we had saved,

Asking Dad's forgiveness for the way that we'd behaved.

My dad was strong and powerful, a mountain of a man,

And Tom and I were nervous as we placed it in his hand.

But as we hung our heads in shame, tears welled up in our eyes,

Unspoken words acknowledged by the message tears implied.

Daddy said it's raining, and conditions aren't quite right,

But let's go fishin' anyway, I think the fish might bite.

And just when things were darkest and seemed so sad and bleak,

Daddy yelled, "Now hurry, and I'll meet you at the creek."

Aquarius was rising, the stars aligned just right,

The lure had barely reached the creek when Daddy got a bite!

As Daddy pulled the fish ashore, the field was filled with shouts,

As hanging from that Kentucky bass were both the Water Scouts.

Aunt Clotile and momma prepared that meal just right,

With cornbread, greens, and mounds of fish for dinner Sunday night.

I saw my daddy smiling...content and unconcerned,

I thanked God for my family and the lesson I had learned.