RRN Online Volume 496

December 03 '05

Volume 496

Fall Fishing Jim, Joel & Wayne

Fun-sized Bass Jim Hess's white Dodge pickup rolled into my driveway shortly before noon on the Thursday prior to Thanksgiving Day. Jim had driven up from Vicksburg to enjoy a favorite past time, fishing with a friend. Jim and I made up only half of the foursome that normally finds time to fish together at least once and sometimes twice each year. Lee Gordon of West Point and Gordon Sansing of Forest could not work the adventure into their respective schedules.

After a quick lunch, Jim and I drove to the home of Joel and Shirley Hale, where Joel awaited us.

Following a cordial welcome, Joel stated, "Just put your stuff in the back of my old truck, and I'll drive us down to the lake."

Having followed the cow path of a trail, that Joel calls a road, down to the lake, I felt better about Joel being our driver as opposed to Jim or me. Personally, I'd need a four-wheel drive vehicle to get in and out, but Joel didn't have any problem with his aging pickup, the last one he bought for delivering rural mail before he retired from the Postal Service. It slipped and slid along a rutted hillside, and while lumbering over uneven terrain it would have rolled me around inside the cab had I not had a death grip on the dashboard while sandwiched between Joel and Jim.

The lake was down considerably from its summer level, because Joel purposefully draws it down for the winter in order to help control the moss and weeds. I don't know how effective such measures really are, as I seldom find the time to fish there during lawn-mowing season. Though, I'm sure it doesn't hurt, and it gives Joel something to do besides playing golf.

It took the three of us to push my heavy aluminum boat from the levee to the edge of the water. My boat is too heavy for one man to handle and dang near too heavy for two men, but at the time I bought it, I was more concerned about safety than I was getting it to and from a lake. It's been docked (no, make that banked) at Joel's so long that the runners on my trailer have rotted off the frame and Joel's taken to calling the boat his.

Joel was our helmsman; Jim took the middle seat, and I sat at the bow. Joel complained that I should buy some new seats for "his" boat. The old plastic ones had long ago broken away from their holders and been discarded. I doubt Joel should look for new seats this year, and I wouldn't suggest he get his hopes up for next year. Anyway, the only time he fishes out of my boat is when he has company.

"Y'all should have been here last week or the week before," Joel laughed. "The fish were tearing it up!"

Temperatures had been twenty or so degrees warmer than when Jim and I were there. In fact, on the lake, a pair of long johns would have been appropriate garb beneath a pair of thick pants. My earmuffs and open-fingered gloves kept me, if not warm, at least comfortable, though I'd not have made it without my wool sweater and windbreaker. Thankfully, the fish were biting often enough to keep our minds off our comfort.

We kept a couple of dozen bass Thursday afternoon, which fell mostly into the pound to pound and a half classification. We were having too much fun poking fun at one another to bother keeping score, but had we done so, Jim would have scored the highest in the categories of most fish caught and biggest fish of the afternoon. We all needed a spinner-bait with a chartreuse and orange skirt, but only Jim had one.

One of these days, I'm going to peruse old RRN articles, involving fishing, just to see how many of our fishing adventures held a misadventure, but that may have to wait until I'm retired. Since becoming a boat owner, about thirty years ago, I've not needed a boat motor larger than an electric trolling motor. Though, I am sure if I had an outboard motor, I'd have sheared a pin or two by now. I'm not even certain what shearing a pin is, but I think it has to do with the propeller.

Having fished only one other time this year, I suppose a misadventure was overdue.

"I just watched your propeller spin off and sink out of sight," Joel observed. "I happened to look down and noticed it was wobbling. That rascal spun off the shaft and sank."

We all agreed, it was the first such calamity that any of us had experienced. Unfortunately, we didn't have a spare prop. But, fortunately, we had two paddles aboard and were able to maneuver wherever we so chose to fish.

The sun was almost hidden by trees on the southwest side of the lake, when we decided to end our afternoon of fun and fishing. Somehow we managed to drag the boat back onto the levee where it will stay until someone else comes along to fish with Joel. It's too bad that days like that Thursday have to end so soon, but I suppose the Lord knows our limitations of endurance better than we do. After all, my elbow is still sore from all the casting I did.

Back at my house, Jim quickly filleted our catch. I washed each fillet and stored the lot in a plastic container, holding off frying the fish until Friday night.

Friday was supposed to have been a slightly warmer day than Thursday, and perhaps it was, but because I didn't dress quite as warmly as the previous day, I thought I was going to freeze once we got on Pontotoc Lake. While we would have been more than welcome to fish a second day at Joel's, Jim and I decided to try a different lake.

As we left the house Friday morning, Jim asked to stop by First Baptist Church to tour the new gym and the new addition to the educational complex still under construction. The gym was open, and, being it was a gym, no tour guide was necessary. Mickey Gentry asked if we had seen the new educational space, then volunteered to give us a tour. The new building will eventually house the pre-school department and a spacious fellowship hall.

"Where are y'all going fishing today?" Mickey asked.

"Pontotoc Lake, I suppose," I responded. "Do they still charge to put a boat in?"

"No, they took the box down, but the last couple of times I fished there, I got skunked," Mickey grimaced.

Undeterred by Mickey's bad luck, we drove to the lake. Naturally, Jim wanted to head to the side of the lake where he'd had the most success in the past. Naturally, that side was in the shade and felt fifteen to twenty degrees colder than the sunny side.

"Dang, I forgot my earmuffs," I moaned, wishing I'd made a checklist before leaving home.

Jim pitched me a hand towel and told me to wrap it around my head. I was able to secure the towel under my ball cap, so that it covered my ears and neck, something like the garb of a French Legionnaire. It may have been comical looking, but at least, I was somewhat warmer than before.

We caught a few fish before calling it a day around the middle of the afternoon, but nothing to compare to the numbers of the prior day, and it didn't take long to fillet them.

Dinner Friday night consisted of fried fish, hushpuppies, fries, and coleslaw. Jim spent a second night with us, but left around mid-morning to return to Vicksburg. I got up Saturday morning sneezing and with watery eyes and became only slightly better as the day went by. I was no better Sunday morning and didn't leave the house for a second day. Miraculously, I felt fine on Monday and experienced none of the allergy symptoms of the previous two days.

Jim and I didn't establish a date for a spring fishing trip, as we will want to check on the availability of Lee Gordon and Gordon Sansing. Hopefully, we'll manage an outing before next Mother's Day.

Thanksgiving 2005 At Sarah's House

There may have been a shortage of dinner guests at Sarah’s Thanksgiving table, but there was no shortage of food. As most subscribers to this newsletter now know, my family normally celebrates Thanksgiving at my sister’s home, a tradition that Sarah began approximately nine years ago. Last year was an exception in that Sarah couldn’t find the time to get her house in order, but she prepared the main course and brought it to my house where the clan had gathered.

Rayanne alternates celebrating Thanksgiving between Pontotoc and Belmont, with this year finding her in Belmont with her in-laws. Jason was invited to the parents of his "girlfriend" who live in Amory. I don’t recall the excuse Sarah’s son, Brett, gave for staying in Pearl, but until his wife graduates Medical School, we probably won’t see much of him. So, Felicia was the only child in Sarah’s family or mine to eat with us.

Sarah set her table for eight, as she was expecting Jason right up until the last minute. Barbara’s niece, Cheryl Radford of Southaven, was the only one of Barbara’s people to attend. And, it looked for a while that there would only be five of us on hand to celebrate Thanksgiving, but neighbors, Carroll and Terena Kyle, brought our total to seven.

Sarah’s cornbread dressing may have been her best in recent memory, and while the turkey was on the dry side, I didn’t have any trouble eating it with the giblet gravy. Other scrumptious dishes included, baked ham, creamed potatoes, candied sweet potatoes, corn and green bean casserole, lima beans, orange fluff, fruit salad, broccoli salad, and a frozen concoction called idiot’s delight. Desserts included, treasure cake, pumpkin roll, pecan tarts, brownies, and black forest trifle. And, if that were not enough, there was also plenty of cranberry sauce, fruit conserve, and rolls.

Though I challenged myself to sample some of everything, I fell short of my goal. There was simply too much food. The leftovers were good for two more meals, but by Friday night, I had to have regular food again, and grilled hamburgers filled the bill nicely.

Felicia’s new digital camera has turned her into something of a shutterbug. So, after our Thanksgiving meal, she had family members posing both inside and outside. Look for Cheryl to ask Santa for a digital camera, as she was quite taken with Felicia’s camera. I like the convenience of digital, too, but as long as Jason’s next door, I’ll borrow his.

Bodock Beau Do You Know Who I Am

Cheryl, Barbara, Wayne, Sarah, Felicia Anomymity has its place. The following borrowed from the Laugh Letter Newsletter provides a good example.

An elderly lady walked into the local country church. The friendly usher greeted her at the door and helped her up the flight of steps.

"Where would you like to sit?" he asked politely.

"The front row, please," she answered.

"You really don’t," the usher said. "The pastor is incredibly boring."

"Do you happen to know who I am?" the woman inquired.

"No," he said.

"I’m the pastor’s mother," she replied indignantly.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked.

"No," she said.

"Good," he answered.

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