Take Time to Fish Through the Cracks
by Terry
Higginbotham
The summer of 1972, my brother and I were filling cricket
and bait buckets for Mr. K.C. Bray at the Sunset Marina
on the Toledo Bend Reservoir just south of Many, Louisiana.
It was just another hot, humid, July in the southwest Louisiana.
Each day the same as yesterday and with almost certainty
the same as it would be tomorrow. The wind was so still
that the Spanish moss barely rustled in the old cypress
trees. But these were the type of days I liked, cause the
fishing would be good. Good fishing meant good tips.
Lil’ Brother and I never did make a lot of money,
but enough to keep us just short of even on our account
at Mr. K.C.`s store. Our daily provisions consisted of two
cokes, a moon pie, a Miss. Dailey’s fresh made sandwich,
and all the crickets we needed to catch our supper. By 7:00
p.m., every evening we would have our 3 bream apiece. We
would gut `em, stick `em, and cook `em over a little fire
we would make on the bank near our tent.
Lil’ Brother and I had spent the last two summers
camping on the banks of the Bend. We fancied ourselves as
a modern day Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. We were accountable
to no one and responsible for only our daily bread. Don’t
get me wrong, we were not bad kids nor did we come from
a broken home. We had loving parents, grandparents, and
friends. We were just lucky enough to grow up in a part
of the world and in a time that allowed us to live free,
truly free.
Our parents would come to the Bend on the weekends and
we would get a reprieve from our day-to-day attempts to
“survive”. We didn’t know until years
later that mom and dad gave Mr. K.C. money to cover our
supper in the case fishing ever went bad. They would bring
us fresh clothes, comic books, candy, and fresh tackle for
our nightly fishing. They would stay for the weekend then
head for real world late on Sunday Evening.
On Friday night we would all go down to the dock. We would
sit for hours talking about the week’s events. Lil
Brother and I would tell about our adventures. Dad would
tell us stories about the jobs he was on. Dad was an ironworker
and we were fascinated by his stories of “walking
in the air”. To us he was a superhero. Saturday we
would spend the day fishing, swimming, and skiing.
Sunday morning was spent at “church”. We would
go down to the dock, bait a couple of hand lines. We would
then lower the hand lines through the cracks in the dock.
The really big fish would rest in the shade, just under
the dock. The best way to get to them was to fish through
the cracks where the two floating partitions of the dock
joined. While Lil’ Brother and I would fish for the
Big Ones, Daddy would read to us about becoming “Fishers
of Men”. Some of the best times of my life were spent
belly down on that old dock, coaxing those big bluegills
out with worms and crickets. As I look back on it now, it
wasn’t because of the fishing but because of the time
spent with Dad and Lil’ Brother.
Recently my dad came to visit. I was in the midst of a
major project and wasn’t spending much time with him.
Maybe a few minutes in the morning and an hour or so at
night, before I passed out from exhaustion. On his last
night, I finally got to tell him about the new boat I just
bought. About the rods and reels, tackle, and accessories
just waiting until we got a chance to go fishing. I told
him about the cabin on Toledo Bend that we were going to
rent, as soon as I got enough time to go. I told him about
how excited the kids were when I had brought home new rods
and reels for them, last month. He seemed to enjoy the talk
although he seemed very quiet and almost sad.
My dad left that next morning. As we shook hands, he drew
me near and presented me with an old box. He whispered,
“The secrets to a happy life are in here”. Dad
was always a little strange when it came to good-byes, so
I just smiled, waved and watched him slowly drive out of
sight.
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The small box was worn red with a small picture of a man
battling a giant bass. Below the picture was the caption
“Sunset Marina Toledo Bend Many, Louisiana”.
I slowly opened the box and smiled as I became aware of
its contents. Truly these were the “secrets of life”.
In the box was a small bible with a bookmark with Matthew
4:19 printed on it. It had been a while but I did remember,
“Follow Me and I will make you Fishers of Men”.
Beside the Bible was a small hand line wrapped in a piece
of paper with my dad’s handwriting scrawled on it.
I unfolded the note and smiled as I read the simple key
to a happy life.
“Son, Make time to fish through the cracks”.
Today isn’t just another hot, humid, July day in
southwest Louisiana. Not quite the same as yesterday and
with almost certainty the same as it will be tomorrow.
“Hey Jon, throw dad another moon pie”.
“Just a minute dad, I think Erin’s got another
one”.
“Be careful not to lose him, it’s a little
tricky getting ‘em back through the cracks”.
“Hey dad”.
“Yeah, Jon”.
“Was fishing this good when you were a kid?”
“Almost”.
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