A Fish Story

Just a thought!
A good portion of my young, boyhood life was spent fishing many of the
Ozark streams. The Meramec , Big River, Huzzah and one often visited with
Granpa, Gasconade River, down by the farm in Maries County. Most times
we would stop and pick up a couple boys living along the river.
They were always good company, and it didn't hurt, they knew where
all the good fishing holes were. After digging enough worms to fill up a
Hills Brothers coffee can, we'd bait the hooks and toss our line in the stream.
The river was so clear, you could see every color in the rocks as the sun
danced through the cold, spring fed water. Never a long wait, fish were
always eager to swallow a big,  fat, juicy earthworm.
Our stringer full and bellies empty after a couple hours in the sun, we'd
haul em' up on the bank and commence to cleaning, while Granpa started
a good camp fire in the pit.  Since "old man Butler's" cornfield backed up
to the river, we always managed to relieve him of a few ears to go with
the fish fry.  Sitting by the fire till dark, with Granpa telling fish stories of
Uncle Mearl being pulled in the river by a "Big One", we ate our fill of Bass,
Perch, and quite a few Catfish as I recall, not to mention the sweet corn that
melted in your mouth...That was some good eatin!
Before dropping off the boys, we stopped by "Old man Butler's" with a few
nice size Catfish to compensate him for the corn that disappeared.
He thanked us for the fish and said "he hoped the corn was good."
We thanked him and said, "indeed, it was delicious."
Those days are gone, yet always surface in my memory.
Today, I walked through a puddle after a morning rain...
The sun glistened off tiny ripples, the colored pebbles danced at my feet...
And Granpa smiled'

        by Barry Anderson
Author's Notes/Comments: 

"Things can bring back memories when you least expect them"

schmuckjones's picture

Wonderful job!

I may not be a fisherman myself, but dang If I don't like me a good fishing story.  It was easy to picture the memory encapsulated in this poem and sounds like a really good time.  Also sharing the days catch with "Old Man Butler" in exchange for some cobs of corn, it all just sounds really nice.  The picture is a lovely lazy day of fishing, with sparkling white reflections on those green running waters.