| November 04 '06 |
|
| Volume 544 |
|
October
Fishing Sunshine After The Rain
Five days before a planned fishing trip on
Friday, the weatherman showed Friday with no chance of rain. The next day,
rain on Friday was a remote possibility and chances of rain improved as the
week progressed. By Thursday, which had a 100% chance of rain, the forecast
for Friday was a sixty percent chance of rain in the morning, with widely
scattered, isolated showers for the afternoon.
Jim Hess and I had already made plans to fish on Friday at Joel Hale’s
lake, so Jim made his way to Pontotoc Thursday afternoon. For the past several
years, Jim and I have fished on the Tuesday and Wednesday before Thanksgiving,
but this year, Jim’s church calendar was full that week as well as the
rest of November.
I spent Thursday working in Clinton and spoke to Jim on his cell phone about
the time he passed through Clinton via the Natchez Trace. Jim stated his
plans to drive along the Interstate all the way to Grenada because he wanted
to stop in Vardaman on his way to Pontotoc. I had driven the Interstate that
morning in a hard rain, and having had my fill of both the weather and terrible
truck traffic, I elected to travel the Trace and enjoy a less congested route.
We arrived at my house within minutes of each other.
We awoke to a rainy Friday morning and by eleven o’clock had all but
given up hope of getting to fish Friday afternoon. Jim took me to get my
truck from Boyle’s, where I’d left it earlier to have the rear
tires checked. Billy Boyle said he’d heard a weather report stating
the rain would be ending around noon, followed by clearing and strong winds
that would "lay down" around three o’clock.
Sure enough, around noon the rain stopped, the sun appeared, and strong winds
began to blow. We ate sandwiches but Jim was about ready to abort our fishing
plans.
"I just don’t know if I want to fool with all the mess and mud," he
complained. "I’m thinking about driving to West Point to see Lee for
a while and going back to Vicksburg this afternoon."
I phoned Joel right after lunch to see what he thought about our fishing
prospects for the afternoon. I had intended to call him Thursday night, as
I had told him I would, and let him know what time to expect us Friday morning.
I had hardly stated who I was when Joel roared, "If you were here right now,
you’d be late."
"Well, I am here…right now," I teased.
"Naw, I mean out here, ready to fish!" he chided.
"You think we can get down there, that it’s not too muddy? I asked.
"Won’t be a problem, come on," he responded.
I hurried to change into some old clothes, swapped hairpieces, put a few
drinks in a cooler, grabbed my fishing gear and loaded everything into
Jim’s truck. I probably need to start making a list before a fishing
trip, because on the way I remembered I left my sunglasses in my car and
wasn’t sure I brought any sun screen. Worse, about the time we pulled
into Joel’s drive, I realized I didn’t bring my camera.
Exiting the truck, I recounted, "I swore I wasn’t going fishing again
without a camera, but here I’ve left mine at home."
"That’s okay, I’ve got one," Joel replied.
"What’s that?" I queried, pointing to a new set of boat seats in the
back of Joel’s truck.
"That’s some new seats for ‘our’ boat," Joel grinned.
A few weeks ago, I dug my clamp-on seat holders out of storage and took them
to Joel. My old plastic seats had succumbed to the elements a few years ago
and had been discarded, but I kept the seat holders. Joel mentioned the need
for back support the last time we fished together and stated he’d been
thinking about buying some seats for ‘our’ boat. I told him there
was no need to buy the clamps if mine still worked.
As we left for the lake in Joel’s truck, I asked, "Do you think we’ll
have any trouble getting in and out."
"We won’t have any trouble getting in," he stated, then laughed. "I
don’t know about getting out. Heck, we can walk out, and I can go back
and get my truck in a couple of days."
Clearly, Joel was ready to have a good time. He drove us along one of his
newer routes to the lake, one that leads off his main driveway. I sat in
the middle and braced myself as best I could as Joel negotiated a couple
of hairpin turns and two mud holes before driving down a washed-out section
and onto the levee.
"Whoa!" I stated, upon seeing the dangerous looking descent to the levee.
"Do you think we can do this?"
"Oh, yeah!" he gleefully responded.
Had I been driving my truck, I imagine I’d have broken an axel or snapped
a wheel off and probably would have slid into the tree that looked to be
directly in front of us, but I wasn’t driving, and Joel had no trouble.
It took a few minutes to load our gear into the boat and attach the trolling
motor and the new cushioned seats. Jim volunteered to take the bow seat which
did not have a mounted seat. Joel was like a kid at Christmas, enthusiastically
stating his enjoyment of the new seats.
"I sure do like the support these give your back, don’t you, Wayne?"
he quizzed, in an obvious attempt to make Jim envious of our seats.
The wind was relentless. It blew from about every direction with equal ferocity.
One strong gust sent my straw hat sailing into the water, and almost ripped
off my hastily fastened hairpiece. I don’t normally need much stick-ability
when I wear a cap or hat, but I soon learned I had insufficient tape to withstand
the gale-like winds. Jim offered me his cap, and I gladly accepted it as
we fished my hat from the lake.
I didn’t catch nearly as many fish as either Jim or Joel. Instead of
fishing, I spent a lot of time stringing their fish. Joel caught several
nice-sized crappie and Jim kept hauling in bass. I suppose I caught one for
every ten caught by either of them.
If I heard Joel say it once, I heard him say it twenty times, "There ain’t
nothing like catching fish, is it Jim?" and he always followed his remark
with a hearty laugh.
I believe my fishing
companions will support my assertion that I caught the biggest bass of the
afternoon, but it surely would not have weighed much more than two pounds.
Joel loves to fish but cares little about eating his catch, so Jim and I
kept sixteen, nice, eating-sized fish.
Neither of my fishing partners let me forget that the wind was supposed to
die down at 3:00 p.m. We fished until five o’clock, and the wind showed
no signs of letting up even then. I later thought it would have been good
enough for the both of them, had I called them at 3:00 the next morning to
tell them it was 3:00 a.m. and the wind had died down.
It wasn’t as hard to drive out as I had thought it might be. Maybe the
wind helped dry out the rutted hillside we had to traverse, maybe it was
the driver’s skill or his familiarity with the dirt road he frequently
uses, but we made it, thanks largely to the mud-grip rear tires.
Joel always seems to have a good time when we’re fishing with him, but
I honestly believe he had the time of his life last Friday. Even Jim noticed
how much fun Joel had, and the both of us agreed that Joel would have been
sorely disappointed had we called off our plans to fish due to the bad weather.
Block Party
Good Time In The Circle
A flyer appeared in our mailbox on Dogwood Circle, recently. The senders
announced their desire for a neighborhood-wide pre-Halloween Party to be
held in the expansive lot we call "The Circle" on Saturday October
28th for all our children and grandchildren. The event planners
stated there would be games and other activities for the children along with
hotdogs and hamburgers. If interested in participating in the party, we were
asked to contact one of the five individuals named as coordinators of the
event for further instructions.
Since our grandchildren were scheduled to visit us that day, Barbara phoned
our next door neighbor to confirm our attendance and to ask what we were
to bring.
Hanging up the phone, Barbara turned to me and reported. "All they need us
to bring is a couple of 12-packs of cokes and some brownies."
The party was added to our social calendar, which was rapidly filling up
for the last week of October, the same week that Jim Hess and I planned to
fish, and it was also the weekend we celebrate a family tradition started
years ago by my late mother, namely welcoming the upcoming holiday season
with a chicken and dressing Sunday dinner.
After Jim Hess left Saturday morning, I busied myself with Saturday morning
visits and newsletter deliveries. I spent the greater part of the early afternoon
cleaning out our garage, an event that is usually predicated by whatever
sort or people-gathering necessitates special use of our garage. However,
like our refrigerator, there are occasions when conditions get so bad that
I clean up things simply because I’m tired of looking at the leftovers,
or in the case of the garage, the clutter of some half-dozen ice chests used
at the fish fry in early June.
After cleaning the garage, I was thankful our preparations for the neighborhood
party involved only canned drinks and brownies.
The party in the circle was to begin at 6:00 p.m., but when I saw several
adults setting up tables, lawn chairs, free-standing fire pits, and a grill,
around five-thirty, I decide to offer my help. For the outdoor lights, Tommy
Wood needed an extension cord with multiple grounded outlets, which I was
able to supply, plus I grabbed a couple of my empty trash containers and
trashcan liners.
The fire pits not only broke the chill of the cold night air but provided
gathering points for adults and children to enjoy a meal with a campfire
atmosphere. Additionally, the fires made it possible for the young and the
young at heart to roast marshmallows for the simple pleasure of eating a
roasted marshmallow or making S’mores.
The party appeared to be a huge success
and was well attended. Children had the opportunity to decorate a pumpkin
and to have cheeks painted with pumpkins, bats, and more by Anna Claire Wood.
All the organizers are to be commended, but in my thinking, Stephanie Knight
deserves special recognition as director of children’s activities.
As a teacher, Stephanie is well equipped to direct activities. She maintained
an organized effort that included pony rides, a hayride, and various games
and activities. From musical chairs to a relay race, where participants had
to put a balloon in a chair and sit on it to burst it, to using toilet tissue
to mummy-wrap a partner, the children stayed busy playing.
I feel sure the success of the "first ever" Woodland Hills Subdivision party
will encourage it’s organizers to do it all again next year.
Bodock Beau
Selected Humor
None of us are likely to remember any of the following a day after having
read it, but it’s funny in this moment of time.
Quick Quips
TOOTHSOME. What do you get when you cross a snowman with a vampire? Frostbite.
GOOD QUESTION. What’s the difference between a man with a cold and a
professional boxer? One blows his nose; the other knows his blows.
WONDER YEARS. Husband: What are the best 10 years of a woman’s life?
Wife: Twenty-nine to 30.
FOOTBALL FINANCES. Why did the football coach go to the bank? To get his
quarterback.
IN THE MIDDLE. Student: Well, Pa, I’m the dumbest of the smart ones,
but I’m smartest of the dumb ones.
TRUE SALESMANSHIP. When a woman was asked why she bought a Cadillac, she
responded, "The DeVille made me do it."
Oldies but Goodies
Why is a miner like a boatman? Because he handles the ore.
Why is a hive like a spectator? It is a bee-holder.
Why is a handsome woman like bread? She is often toasted.
What does a stone become in water? Wet.
Why is a good husband like dough? Because a woman needs him.
Why is swearing aloud like an old coat? Because it is a bad habit.
What part of the fish weighs the most? The scales.
What should a clergyman preach about? About a half an hour.
Where did Noah strike the first nail in the ark? On its head.
Why is the letter K like a pig’s tail? Because it’s at the end
of "pork."
How many sides has a pitcher? Two, inside and outside.
Why is beauty like a $10 bill? Because once changed it soon goes.
Source: Laugh Letter Newsletter, September
Gracie Allen's Classic Recipe for Roast Beef
1 large Roast of beef
1 small Roast of beef
Take the two roasts and put them in the oven. When the little one burns,
the big one is done.
Shared by Carl Wayne Hardeman
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