Foot Tub or hang it over...

Daddy always came home from a day at the Jetties with a boat full of fish.  He was kown as a Fisherman in our little Town. He constructed himself a fish cleaning table down by my basketball goal on our property line.  My Daddy wasn’t necessarily a carpenter so the table was a piece meal type thing. I would drag the ladder out of the shed and he would let me sit on top to catch fish scales that flew my way.  If you could have seen the size of those Spot Tail Red Bass, you would understand the scales having a likeness to quarters and half dollars. I knew someday I would get to go fishing.  I would be ready because I knew how to clean fish.  I probably asked him a million times it seemed by the time I was eight years old if I could go fishing.  The answer was always NO BABY, you are not big enough.  Finally, the day came when I was nine years old but there were stipulations.  “You can go fishing with me when you can ‘go’ in the foot tub or hang it over,” he said.  This did not seem like a problem at all except I had no idea what it really meant nor did I care.  I danced a glorious jig round and round the fish cleaning table because I was going fishing at the Jetties.

My big day came with the 3am alarm.  We had to drive Brunswick, GA., to get bait (live shrimp), then back to Crooked River Boat Ramp to put the boat in the water (one hour each way).  By this time, I had eaten a can of Vienna sausages, a Moon Pie and a Honey Bun. We had to be anchored at the end of the North Jetties ready to fish at daylight! 

I’m sure you could guess the Boat was named, Miss Lynn. What other name in the world would work for my Daddy?  Daddy let me get my shrimp out of the bait well and showed me how to put it on the hook. There was just so much such excitement! I was not big enough to cast my line so he did it for me.  I don’t really remember how it all went from that moment but there was a fish on my hook.  It was surely the biggest fish the at the Jetties since Daddy was holding on to me and the fishing pole helping me reel the fish up to the boat. It was one of the most magical moments I shared with my Daddy.  I was proud, he was proud and I had to go to the bathroom!  Then it hit me, foot tub or hang it over!  I chose the foot tub because I knew I had become a BIG GIRL as I looked at that fish!  We caught a mess of fish on my first fishing trip that day.  There were many more days in my childhood of fishing that I enjoyed with him but none were ever like the first!  

He always led me to believe I could do or be anything I wanted which was a profound idea in 1970.  It was settled that day, I would become a fisherman!  

   Many years passed before the time came when I would fish again as an 

   adult. Suprisingly, his teachings came back to me about his names for 

   fishing holes, where they were, what tides to fish etc.  

   The love and teachings of a Daddy last a life time!

Yard of the Month

Mama was always proud of her yard when I was little.  The Members of the Women's Club were concerned about the tidiness and presentation of our quaint little Town.  Once a month the Yard of the Month Committee would cruise around town to select the award winning yard. They would place a rather primitive green and white stenciled sign the yard of the winner.  It read, “Yard of the Month.”  It was coveted by all the members.

They would take a picture of the woman of the house next to the sign which would then appear in the local Newspaper.  I’m sure our entire family toiled under the crackling tidiness whip for her to have that sign in our yard, however, there was never mention of such!  It was her YARD! Yards belonged to the Mamas back in the day!

This Dredges up the topic of edging which per Mama was the finishing touch to every winning yard.  As I began my own ‘Yard of the Month’ process today, I tried to figure out just how her edging was done to perfection?  Her tools were primitive to say the least yet it was always as straight as an arrow.  Pictured is her tool of the trade compared to mine.

When I admired my handy work today I realized this Apple had not fallen far from the Tree.  I could hear her say, “If the edging looks good no one will notice the middle but if the edging looks like a snake they will see a million things!”  I’m not getting a Yard of the Month sign but clearly as you can see I might be in the running!  If you are wondering, I did pass the sugar TODAY.  I rolled in the neighbor’s trash cans and blew off their driveway!

Pass the sugar...

Quite often it seems we find ourselves in a quagmire of difficulty when it comes to kindness.  By kindness I mean a simple, everyday common core of decency towards human kind. We should never entertain the questions of to be or not to be kind.  We should be kind! 

Pass the sugar.  

What has happened to the politer considerate society of the past that was built on lending a helping hand?  Do we just need a reminder to do a good deed and expect nothing in return?  I find my internal radar searching daily for an inkling of these elusive qualities around me.  Are other people kind any more?  It is ingrained in my being if someone drops something I should reach down to pick it for them or excuse myself if I walk in front of someone browsing at the grocery.  Perhaps it is just rolling in my elderly neighbor’s trash cans or blowing off their driveway after I’m done with my own.  Kindness is a genuinely sweet thought just like sugar.

Pass the sugar.

How did these basic acts of kindness find themselves planted so far in the past?  I’m not sure, however, I plan to be part of the solution.  We are all busy with the traffic jam of life but I have visions of what a sunny day it could be, if we were all sweet to one another again.  

I say pass the sugar...