Watermelons

Well I had my first bite of watermelon yesterday evening and it brought back many memories...


The summer of 1977 when I graduated from high school, I had some friends that had planted a field of watermelons and were looking for people to work in the field. Growing up, summertime had always been a time for young men in our community to work the summer in watermelons and cantelopes. This was some of their preparation for the coming year in football as I'm not quite sure they had much of a weight room to work out in back then. This particular summer, most had already found a job, so there weren't a lot of extra workers around. My friend's husband with the help of another friend had planted a watermelon field, and my friend and I decided we would help them out since the fruit was getting ripe and they were getting on the desperate side of finding labor. The day I told my parents I was going to work in the field loading melons, Mama didn't have much to say about it, but Daddy thought I had lost my mind. He said, "Becky, you are crazy...girls don't do that, you won't last a week out there". I can be stubborn about certain things, but one thing for sure, I don't like for someone to tell me I can't do something. It makes me want to prove all the more that I can do it. And so early that first Saturday morning during the summer of 77, I went out to the field...the wet and muddy field. You don't hear much of people planting this type any more, but this was the days of Crimson Sweet melons. A little bigger than a basketball, averaging somewhere around 15 pounds or so. I thought I would die at the first toss....both the catching and the tossing, but I believe my friend and I surprised the guys out there as we were able to stay right up with them. We had our little "assembly line" and proceeded to load the field trucks, then they'd have to be transferred to the semi for packing. Each melon was money to the farmer, so we'd try to be very careful not to drop any, but once in a while one would drop and we'd dive into it like vultures....dirty hands and all. I learned to like a good hot melon as it helped to quench our thirst out in the heat. I lasted as long as they loaded melons that summer out in that field, but it wasn't based so much on the fact that I enjoyed it, but I just wanted to prove to my Daddy that I could do it. That was my first and last summer of working in watermelons...he was right, girls aren't made to do stuff like that.


Since then, I can't count the many times the box of salt or a butcher knife in the house would go missing, and sure enough, Daddy was the guilty party. Between that and opening up the garage freezer and seeing a big ole dirty (hot) melon sitting on the shelf would cause my mother to get so upset thinking he was thawing out her vegetables that she had worked so hard to put up....but it was just to get the melon a little cool for him to eat it. This time of the year he had a lot of his customers come by and give him several from their fields to last him during the week, and he'd eat at least one a day. I'd see him many a time pick one up and take it out in back of the office (along with the salt & knife) and then a few minutes later he'd ask us if we wanted some, but I'd turn down a lot of those invites just so I didn't have to roll my chair with sticky hands, then go back in the office and get it all over my computer keyboard. A few weeks before my Daddy died, a good friend had been down at B&G's loading point and brought him one of Freddie's melons. We had to cut it up for him since a walk outside to eat it was quiet a chore, but he managed to get a few bites down. I miss my Daddy so much these days and with every watermelon I see or taste, he comes to mind.


Proverbs 4:1 says...My child, listen to your father's teaching, pay attention so you will understand.

Roomba

A couple years ago when I was living out at the trailer in Montbrook, I did my own housecleaning, and it never was too much of a dread for this reason...I wasn't a filthy person, so cleaning only took a couple hours....even with the roommate I had. Her name was Roomba. She wasn't from Africa though she sounds like she could have been. She was a clean freak I must say. I changed the bed linens, cleaned the sinks, mopped and dusted and left the vacuuming to her. She did a good job without a word of complaining.

Roomba was a robot. I bought her just because it gets a little rough toting a vacuum cleaner around in my lap from room to room, otherwise the cord and stuff got tangled in my wheelchair tires. When I first bought Roomba, I had to read the instructions and saw that she needed charging for a good 3 hours, so I plugged her in that first night I brought her home and got an eerie-feeling as I watched her glowing power light slowly pulsate, almost as if she were breathing. I thought, "Man, I hope this thing doesn't attack me during the night!" I started to shut my door, but I went on to bed and as the sun came up and brightened my room the next morning, I knew I had made it safely through the night without any attacks. I got up and put the batteries in the remote and read up on the virtual walls (two objects larger than a softball which you set it in any area you don't want Roomba to go). The virtual wall projects a hidden beam only Roomba can see, and when she "hits" the beam, she turns around and goes in another direction and continues her cleaning.

So it was time to put ole Roomba to the test. After I cleaned my sinks, dusted, and mopped my bathroom & kitchen floors, I set up my virtual walls in the particular areas where she wouldn't track in on them. I hit the power switch, and then the clean button on the remote and backed up. Roomba made a couple "beeping" sounds as though she understood, then she took off. I turned on the power around 1:30 that afternoon and she cleaned my floors like a pro (even under the beds) for about an hour and a half. Since I had told Mama about Roomba, she called to check and see if she was collecting any dust or dirt, but rather than stop her in the middle of cleaning, I waited until she was through...and then I opened the little "drawer" that contains the dirt/dust, and it was full. There's a little sign underneath the vacuum that says she "...appreciates a good cleaning of her brushes when she's through, and you can be sure she'll clean just as good the next time." It really was fun to watch, it was as if there really was a miniature person in the house. She'd bump into a piece of furniture and turn around and go in the opposite direction. She'd also take out and go underneath the bed. It was very important to check beforehand to make sure there was nothing on the floor she'd get tangled up in like cords (which I had placed on top of the beds and furniture). She would zigzag all around the room at first, almost as if she were programming herself with its dimensions, but she never missed a lick as you could see her track marks on the carpet and tell just where she had been. She even went into the corners cleaning. After she finished her job, she gave a couple beeps and shut off...and if she'd have had one, her tongue probably would have been hanging out.


I learned something spiritual from watching Roomba. Roomba, like myself, could do nothing for which she was created until she got plugged into an energy source. My energy source is Jesus Christ. I really came alive when I made Him Lord of my life. My spiritual battery gets a full charge when I read God's Word and daily commune with the Lord (prayer), then, when I run into temptations, the Word I've hidden in my heart let's me know when or if I need to turn in another direction. The Holy Spirit that resides within me acts as my virtual walls, and places a beam of conviction (and uneasy feeling) in my heart.


Are you sitting still as Roomba was in her box, and going nowhere in your life? Maybe you've already made a mess of your life as I had. It's never too lets to get started again. I promise. Get plugged in to the right source. Jesus Christ. He cleans like no other...soooo much more than even Roomba can.

Critters and Darkness

I was on Facebook last night and a friend posted one of those things you fill out on the "Top 5 Things....", and she put something in there that triggered a memory from the week before that I had happen to me. I may have to go out in left field to get there in telling it, but I will get there.

I woke up Easter Sunday morning when it was still dark outside. Nope, I didn't make the sunrise service as Pricilla did. I had to chuckle when she made the comment on Facebook..."I didn't realize sunrise service was so early." Trust me, I've only been to a sunrise service one time in my life years ago as a child. A family of seven we were back then...can you imagine loading up all seven in one car, one of those being in diapers to go to a half hour service? I recall thinking it was still nighttime when Mama woke us up, and that we should be sleeping...not waking up. We got to wear our pajamas. Back then you could pull up to the cemetery and sit in your car since they had a little PA system. Mama and Daddy used to be the only ones that went regularly from our immediate family, till they started taking the rest of us. They probably thought, "don't let that whole family get out the car, they'll wake the dead with their loud talking...let's get a PA system so they'll stay in their car." And that we did.



So, back to my story.... I had woke up early this particular morning to get a head start in making enough macaroni and cheese for our family when we came in from church. The alarm sounds and I get it shut off and turn on my lamp that sits on my nightstand, and try to adjust my eyes to the brightness. Don't you hate that? (Reminds me of growing up and mama would come wake us up by turning on our light and blinding us till we got on up.) I sat up in bed. Now mind you in my physical state, I always get halfway dressed in my bed since I cannot stand up. My clothes I lay out next to me the night before just because I am not going to get up into my chair and pick out my clothes, then get all the way back into bed and get dressed. You learn to do things to save time and energy. Normally during the week when I have to get ready for work, I flip on Fox News and watch it as I get dressed, but on Sunday's I usually turn on a church service or something. So here I sit up in bed getting dressed and listening to Charles Stanley preach the Word and something catches my eye in my peripheral vision. I look up in the corner of the wall that my bed backs up to, and notice a huge spider....one of those fast-moving kind. I hate spiders. I think I was scarred for life back in my early days right after I had my accident. I just want to add right here that our house isn't infested with critters, but one has gotten in from time to time. Spiders like to come out when it's dark. During the night years ago as I lay sleeping, I felt a spider run across my arm and I jumped up and turned my light on....and didn't see anything. So after about 10 minutes of being real good and awake, I shut my light off and try to settle back down...right. I'm just about asleep and I feel it run back across my arm again and I holler...but not much can be heard when Mama runs the loud fans down the hall. So, I sit up again and still see nothing. I'm scared to go back to sleep, but soon my eyes get heavy and since I haven't seen anything else, I shut off my light and soon fall back asleep. The next thing I know, I feel it go across my arm again and wham! I hit it and turn on my light and there it is curling up from being hit so hard. I flipped it off my bed and onto the floor. I decided to deal with its remains the next morning. I couldn't believe no one could hear all of this commotion going on in my room.

This Easter-morning spider decides to sit in the corner of the ceiling for a few seconds and I thought I best get dressed quickly so that I can get out of my room and get the bug spray. (Another reason why I miss my Father so much, he would be the one that would get any critters we might see, and kill them for us.) Every ten seconds or so, I look up to see where it's at and it has moved a little bit, so I dress a little faster and notice it keeps moving down the wall to the south end of my room where its darker. It's nice that it's moving away from me, but I know it could head into an area where I won't know where it went. It moves faster until I have to yell for Mama who was sitting in the living room reading her Bible. "Spider! Please bring the spray!" By this time he is heading down the wall and over toward my armoir where I have a set of suit cases sitting next to it against the wall. I kept saying, "Hurry up before it gets out of sight!" By the time she gets in there it is no where to be seen, but I tell her the last area I saw it and she sprays half a can of spray. I'm thinking that she must have seen it the way she sprayed, but she was just hoping the fumes would kill it, if anything. I had to hurry and get out of there myself because my ceiling fan was sending the fumes around my room until it was sure to leave me dead on my back with my legs stuck up in there air. She obviously got it because I never saw it anymore....or it lies lurking and growing as I speak.

Back before I got my little shed built that houses my stationery bike, it use to stay parked
in the garage and I would go out in the evening and ride it. Sometimes I would ride it when the sun was going down and I wouldn't think to turn on the garage lights since I could still see, but I also saw where the darker it started getting in there, these big spiders would come out from their little hiding places and the minute I'd turn the light on, they'd scurry for cover. Reminds me of the devil. His works are in darkness and when the light of the Lord shows up in a persons life, he can't stand it so he runs. Something about the light exposes things, and he doesn't like it. Speaking of the sinner (one without Christ), John 3:19-20 says, They are judged by this fact: The light (Jesus) has come into the world, but they did not want light. They wanted darkness because they were doing evil things. All who do evil hate and will not come to the light, because it will show all the evil things they do.


So if the light of Jesus shines within you, don't be surprised if some people get uncomfortable around you, your light may expose darkness. According to God's Word, it's only natural if it does. Or, the next time you flick on the lightswitch at your house, something maybe running for cover. Hopefully it wasn't what was in my house since I never saw it again...

Saved By The Bell?

Every time I go get my haircut, I park in the back of the beauty shop where my niece works and look around at the back of the old buildings and wonder what life was like when those buildings were first built. I've heard so many tales and seen pictures of what things looked like in Williston over 50 years ago. I've heard my daddy say many times long before I-75 was put in and Williston was known as the Crossroads of Florida, Williston was a busy little town. Full of gas and full service stations, as you had three major highways intersect here; 121, 27, and 41. Daddy said when he was a young boy everyone came to town on Saturdays and would stay just about all day.

Does anyone remember the dime store? It was located at the corner of Main St. and Noble Avenue where part of Lane's Hardware is now. As children we'd go inside the store and love to look around. The candy counter fascinated me back then and I used to say when I grew up, I wanted to work there in that particular department. There was a rather old lady that worked in there by the name of Mrs. Claudie Bell. We never were bad children, but she'd look at us and shake her head as in "no-no" if we'd pick up something. I guess she thought we'd break it. I recall just where the sewing section was, the household goods, perfumes, and so many other sections the store had. Pam and I would beg mama to buy her and I the little sales ticket books, and we'd always pretend we were waitresses taking everyone's order when we got home. From there mama would take us to the A&P grocery store or the Red & White/Germani's before we'd go back home. A little hard to shop when you have 5 children in tow. Boy, if we ever acted up, she knew right where to pinch us...that little tender skin up under your arm. We'd walk out with red eyes from crying. It shut us up though.

Times have changed and we've progressed to the Walmart/Target era. Back about the early 80's and some of my older nephews and a niece were probably ages 9-14 years old, we rode down to Dunnellon and went to the new Walmart...not the Super Walmart, but the smaller one that was first built. This was before I had gotten my license after I had my accident, so I had no vehicle either. Mama was at one end of the store, I picked up what I needed, and the kids each had a little money to spend of their own. We finished our shopping before my Mama did and told her we would go out to the car to sit and wait on her. It was in the evening and in the fall of the year, so it wasn't hot outside. My oldest nephew Neal had purchased a cassette of his favorite group and asked if he could play it as we waited, and I told him he could since I had the keys to the car. So, he puts it in to listen and before long Mama comes out the door and Neal took the cassette out and gets into the back seat with it. When Mama gets out to the car, she loads her stuff into the trunk and gets into the vehicle and starts it up. Well, you all know the annoying sound of the bells it makes until everyone in the front gets their seatbelt put on...only everyone had their seatbelt on, and it did not shut off. We left out of the parking lot and it continues. After 2 minutes of ringing, Mama started getting a little annoyed and asked what we "did" to her vehicle for the bells not to shut off. Instead of turning and going back toward Williston we looped back through the parking lot and she starts fiddling with buttons, lights...everything, and still no luck. Her voice gets a little more panicky and we went back out on the road and the opposite direction of Williston. By this time, neither Neal, Andy, or Danielle are saying a word...only Mama was talking, rather loudly...over the bells. I'm defending myself since I hadn't touched the radio or anything else, and the kids remained silent. I think they knew better than to say anything...they were smart. By this time we are 10 minutes into ringing bells, and a little more volumn coming out into our voices. Mama whips over into a convenient store parking lot at the gas pumps and stops the first person she sees coming out of the store and asks them if they know how to shut off the bells. It was just a lady if that tells you anything. I just shake my head and say, "Come on Mama...she doesn't know that kind of stuff." Coming down the sidewalk is a young man just innocently walking by and Mama does the same thing to him..."Would you know how to shut these chimes off in my car?" Again, I said under my breath (loud enough for her to hear), "Mama, this is not a service station, come on...he is just an innocent bystander." It was so embarrassing, I didn't know what to do but listen to the bells as the man said, "Mam, I have no idea how to shut that off." And on and on the bells ring....it was like Chinese torture. By this time Mama is in rare form, and would have stopped another person but I spoke up and said in a louder tone, "Come on Mama, these people don't know how to fix that!" And all of a sudden I feel a hand come right across my cheek and she said, "I said hush!"

We left Dunnellon after that and I kept quiet all the way home....I would say you could have heard a pin drop in that car that evening, but you couldn't because of the bells we heard all the way back home...for about 20 more minutes.

And the moral of this story...don't back-talk your parents, no matter how old you are. I end with this scripture verse that still stands true...and it could actually go for anyone, and not just parents. Proverbs 21:23 reads this way...Those who are careful about what they say keep themselves out of trouble.

Death

As I was getting ready for work earlier this week, I could hear sirens in the distance. This isn't unusual to hear this every morning. Whenever I've passed these emergency vehicles myself, I know that someone somewhere is usually in some type of distress, and not always from auto accidents. When I pull over to let them pass, I get a lump in my throat and usually say a quick prayer that God would be with them wherever and whatever they are heading to. I am fortunate to have family members, a slew of church family members, and friends that are part of law enforcement and the emergency teams in our tri-county area. They are very special people.




This particular morning, it sounded like a lot of different sirens. Not to sound selfish, but all I could think of was that some of my family members would be coming to work around this time, so I said a prayer for their safety. When I got out to the office, I was greeted not with the usual "morning, Becky", but with somber faces and the voice of my sister talking on the phone to someone about a sweet young lady and her baby. Seems as though this young lady, Tiffany, was killed when her and her little baby girl started out this morning. Not sure of the distraction (probably involving her baby Madelyn), but she hit a school bus. How fast things can happen. Little did she realize that morning when leaving her house, that she wouldn't be coming home that evening. None of us know whether we will lay our heads on the same pillow that we lifted it off of each morning. I know firsthand how quick accidents happen as I've had it happen to me twice in my lifetime. Fortunately I survived, but a few of my friends didn't.


Some of my blog this week has to do with procrastination. Don't put off another day of telling someone they are special, or that you love them. What about...please forgive me, or I forgive you? Don't wait until the kind words can only be spoken at a funeral. My family has always been a loving family, but what may be surprising to some of you is that we weren't the type to say "I love you" to each other. It didn't mean we didn't love each other--as we certainly did--it was just uncomfortable to say. When daddy got sick with cancer we started saying it every day to him; even moreso the last few months of his life. I'd give anything to be able to tell him today that I love him, but I can't. Because of my relationship with the Lord and knowing Him personally, I will see my daddy again one day when we're reunited in heaven.


In reading my bible the other night, I came across something I haven't read in a few years. A Judean king by the name of Jehoram....he was a wicked king. He killed his brothers with a sword, and the leaders of Judah. He built places for people to worship other gods. He led Jerusalem into sin, and led Judah away from the Lord. The Lord caused the Philistines and the Arabs to attack Jehoram, and they took away all of his wealth, his wives, and all but one of his sons. After this he became sick and died a painful death. The thing that struck me the most was that it said in 2 Chronicles 21:20b, NO ONE WAS SAD WHEN HE DIED. Imagine that. They didn't even bury him in the place where all the other kings were buried. Can you imagine people hating you so much that no one would be sad or mourn your death? That in itself is sad.


Although I knew Tiffany's parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, I did not know her like most of you did. But in viewing the pictures put out there on Facebook this week of her friends and her precious little girl Madelyn, I feel like I got to know a little bit of her through many of you and the sweet things written about her. You know what? I think it would be fitting to say of Tiffany, EVERYONE WAS SAD WHEN SHE DIED.

I end today's blog by asking you to continue to pray for little Madelyn and the Poupard family during this sorrowful time.

How Do You Spell Relief?

My life passed before me, and I saw the stars Saturday.

A couple of my sister's suffer greatly with headaches, I am very fortunate not to have this painful problem but only once in a while. The other day Pam had an excruciating headache and after several visits to doctors over the past few weeks, someone mentioned to her about a certain chiropractor who is very good about getting to the source of problems. My mother took Pam to an appointment in Ocala late Friday afternoon. The doctor was able to to try several things to relieve the pain and told her due to her symptoms and the painful areas she was massaging, she was probably suffering from a sinus infection. She went on to tell her things concerning the pollen at this time of the year. Did you know that your nose hairs collect that pollen and at the end of the day it is still "trapped" in the nose, causing the stuffiness and allergies so many people suffer with? She went on to tell her that though she'd "for sure" feel sore the next day due to the different massages and procedures she received, she suggested for her to try a few things...

1. Every evening, mix a little warm salt-water solution and inhale/sniff it up her nose, and repeat it a few times, letting it run to the other side of the nose. Doing this would help to clear out the nasal passages, drain the sinuses, and heal the infection.

2. Use warm packs on her neck and face.

3. Drink warm water with a little lemon.

This reminded me of something I had purchased a couple years ago, that I had seen on one those television infomercials. I'm not normally a sucker for anything, but I was desperate. For the past 8 years or so, I too have suffered with allergies and sinus problems each year. Oddly, I never had this when I was younger. The product I ordered was a small plastic jug filled with a solution that contained some of the Dead Sea salts.

I've also found that you have to be coordinated when using this... The directions tell you to cover one nostril with the bottle tip, and cover the other nostril also with your finger. You then squeeze the jug so that it shoots the solution up your nose, and if done correctly,this should come down and out through the other nostril. It's important not to turn the squeeze loose until it has been removed from your nose...that's the tricky part, as it's easy to turn it loose the moment you feel it go in. Then you repeat this on the other side. It REALLY did work and helped my sinuses, but it was somewhat costly...moreso than over-the-counter allergy and sinus medicines. When allergies make you as miserable as they do, it's worth it. Eventually I ran low and rather than purchasing more, I decided to mix up my own salt water solution.

I talked to Pam the next morning and she said she tried the salt-water solution when she got home that night, and that morning again. She also told me she was feeling 100% better. No headache or soreness thus far.

Later that afternoon I got on Facebook and saw that one of my nephew's, Tyler, was saying how miserable he was from the pollen allergies. My head was a little stopped up, so I decided to go and get my little jug of saline solution stuff I had mixed up and shoot it in my nose since I knew the procedure had worked before. I shook the jug up, just incase any salt had settled over the past year. Leaning my head over the sink as it tells you to do, I put the jug to the first nostril, and closed off the other, then gave it a rather big squeeze. I felt the water go up to my brain and back down and I turned the other nostril loose, and it drained out as it was suppose to. I then quickly did the other side the same way. It again touched the brain and back down and out.

I burnt my head and nose up. I am fortunate if I still have nose hairs. My eyes were watering, probably from the electrical-feeling shock I had just felt go through my head, and the salt solution rolled down the back of my throat--which felt as though it had completely burned my tonsils out. For 5 minutes I believe I saw little birds flying around me, I saw every star and every planet in the solar system, without the aid of a telescope...nor did I have to wait until nightfall.

I would say I got a tiny bit too much salt. Funny, I don't recall adding a whole lot at the time...I'm wondering if the salt intinsifies the longer it sits...?

Did I tell you about the Sinus Buster Nasal Spray I purchased last year? It's extracted from a hot pepper....another painful experiment. You'd think I would learn...but I feel fine right now. It's amazing what extremes one will go to for relief.

Gone Fishing

I know, I know, its been a while since my last blog, but I've had a hundred things on my mind and list that seemingly I could not get completed. The last couple of weeks have been a little hard as I've thought about my daddy a whole lot, and I posted more pictures on my Facebook with him in there and relived every moment the picture was taken. Last Monday it was really tough. I'm involved in prison ministry, and one of the things we do at the beginning of our time together is open with music. They have a piano in the room we meet in with the ladies, but since my mother doesn't go with us to play it, we have to take CD's we've made at church to have a little background music. One of the CD's was made before daddy got sick, and he leads choruses on it. We've used this particular CD from time to time since he's been gone and it was hard at first, but it's gotten a little easier as time has passed...until Monday night. He sang so pretty as I recall, but it was almost as though he had walked in the room, and it got a little harder to listen to him without shedding a tear. Here I was up in front of the ladies (the crowd was fewer in number this night) and I just started crying and found it hard to stop. From that song we went into another CD and the song a man sang was about heaven....and that started the water pipes (as my nephew calls them) to flowing again. I sure do miss him, but I know with complete confidence he's better off where he is.





I read a post my cousin made on Facebook yesterday about looking forward to going fishing on their new boat. Made me think of all the times I went fishing down at our hunting camp in Gulf Hammock. I (with my siblings) used to fish off the dock at the camp at the Suwannee River, but I didn't have a pole or rod and reel back then. We'd just lay on our stomach's with the string tied to our fingers, and sure enough we'd catch lots of different kinds of brim (excuse the spelling if that's not how you spell that type of fish...some people call them stumpknockers). Whatever the case, Daddy always said there's no tastier fish than those caught out of the Suwannee River, and Ten Mile Creek in Gulf Hammock. Back to those caught while laying on our stomach's...Mama would call us into lunch, and since we didn't have a fishing pole, we'd tie our strings to poles that were down at the boathouse and when we'd go back from eating our lunch, there'd always be fish on the line. We'd always throw them in a bucket of water and wait till Daddy came in to clean them...we weren't too good with that. I don't do the "guts thing" too well... I don't mind cutting raw meat, it's the insides and cutting off the heads I don't like to fool with.





In the mid 80's and just a few years after I had my accident, my Daddy and Uncle Orian (his brother) purchased land not far from a lot they had in our earlier years when we were children. Each had a cabin built; and Daddy, his nephew, and Wes built a long dock out from our cabin to an little island at the waters edge. Daddy used to say, "I built that so that Becky could have a place to go down to the water and fish." Now whether he really did that for me I don't know, but that's what he told everyone at the time it was being built. My Daddy loved to eat fish...especially fresh water fish. It wasn't unsual for people to quite frequently stop by the house and give him a mess of fish they had caught because they knew he loved them. For the longest time, the typical menu down at the camp the night before hunting season opened, it was fresh fried mullet, grits, swamp cabbage, baked beans, and hush puppies. Nothing any better....and Mama hated fish, not because of its taste, but the bones she had to pick around. Now me, I didn't care for the bones, but I've almost mastered the art of knowing how to eat around them...Mama never could figure that out, so she was satisfied with eating a fish stick rather than the fresh water fish. The men fried it out doors, so she didn't have to mess up her kitchen with frying them...she said the grease made everything a mess.



When the cabin and dock were finished, I purchased a Zebco rod and reel from Walmart, and I was ready to go fishing. I had so many little tips to catching fish people had given, I was intent on trying every one of them. I'd go down a few times during the summer when I took some of the nieces and nephews, and we'd stay the whole week and fish throughout the day, and a few times at night. One night I recall something getting on my line and it was a slow pull, not the typical feel of a fishbite and the fight they'd put up. It was rather scary, and all I could think of was I had a gator or some type of Loch Ness Monster...so I just cut the line and was ready to go inside.



Many days during hunting season, I'd start out early in the morning, go inside for lunch and then go back out and fish till about the time everyone would start coming in from hunting. Daddy always told me he'd take care of the cleaning when he'd come in and not worry about it..."You just catch "em, and I'll clean 'em." I mainly fished with night crawlers, and once in a while I'd fish with what I heard the big boys talking about...a Rapella. I caught one small bass with it, but no others...so I went back to what I had the best success with. First start of the day I'd take a wet cloth down with me to the dock as I couldn't stand the worm guts/poop or whatever it was that would stick to my fingers. Felt just like glue...I was beginning to wonder if that's what glue was made of, or think I could make a killing making my own glue with it. One particular day when everyone had gone out to hunt, the sand knats were biting hard and I was determined to go sit out on the dock to fish. Ten Mile Creek has ugly dark water like the Suwannee, but it was so relaxing to sit out under the trees with a little breeze blowing and watch the water move along. Every once in a while you could hear the dogs in the distance as they were on the trail of something. I got everything set up, had my tacklebox at arms reach and I was prepared with my bucket of water should I catch anything. I baited my hook, threw it out and bingo! I got a bite and reeled it in. I took the fish off and put it in the bucket and threw it out again since the worm was still there and bingo! Got me another one. Well this went on for about an hour or so...every time I dropped it in the water I got my bite and the fish. Our dock sits directly across the way from the Legler's camp/dock and I knew they were out hunting also, but this persistent fish catching every few minutes was beginning to get rather comical until I started laughing out there all by myself. I thought, "If any of the Leger's drive up and see me out here by myself laughing, they'll think I have lost it." It eventually slowed up, but I probably caught two dozen or more....I was so proud to give them to my Daddy that evening. That wasn't the only bites I got that day. I had put bug spray only in the areas I could feel...around my neck, arms, and face; but neglected to put any around my ankles because I had on socks, figuring they wouldn't bite through those...yeah right. I'm not exaggerating to say I must have had at least 50 bites per ankle. The next day I caught nothing...not the first bite. You talk about a boring day...nothing any worse than the fish not biting. Sand knats were the only bites I got that day, but not like the day before. Uncle Orian told me the reason I didn't catch anything was because I wan't holding my mouth right...



My fishing days dwindled down as the more and more the younger ones heard my fishing tales, the more they wanted to go fishing out on the dock also. Only problem is, they never mastered putting their own worms on. I spent more time baiting hooks, taking their fish off the line, getting the string out of the trees, taking the hooks out of the dock, posts, shirts, hats, hands, heads, etc. It was work. They'd run off and leave my rod and reel or cane pole down on the dock and I'd have to try and clean the mess up...so I never got to enjoy it as I did before when it was just me, myself, and I. The days of fish eating has dwindled also. Daddy's not around, so Mama doesn't care to fry them anymore, unless she's doing it for my brother Wes...



Things have changed a whole lot since Daddy's been gone; but you know Jesus tells me and all who will listen in Mathew 4:19 "....Come follow me, and I will make you fish for people." Yes, my earthly father is still missed, but in my heart my heavenly father is still telling me..."you catch the fish and I'll clean em up."