In the midst of movement and chaos, keep stillness inside of you.

In the midst of movement and chaos, keep stillness inside of you.

June 20, 2011

Two Hooks, Suckers and Cokes...

Last year I remember I wanted to take my dad fishing for Father's Day, so we went to the pond. Daddy loaded up two fishing poles for two great fisherpeople {one unlicensed I might add,} worms and bait, one bobble head, two cokes, and two suckers.

When I was a kid, Mom and Dad would take the fam fishing. Mom would get Jarrett and I ready, and Dad would get everything else ready--tackle boxes, bait, poles, everything you might need to catch the "big fish." He would load us all up in the truck, stop at the gas station for a particular kind of bubble gum, blow pops, sunflower seeds, peanuts, and cokes. As we drove to the creek, he'd add a couple of peanuts to his Coca-Cola bottle and just hum a little. Mom would sit at the other end of the seat with the window down enjoying the sun and the wind. Once our destination was reached, we'd pile out of the truck. Daddy would get every one's poles ready with some gooped up mess with either bait or worms or whatever he thought my make the fish bite. He'd send us on our way to go catch those fish. Mom was a pro. Jarrett learned quickly. I....well... didn't really catch on.

By my first cast, I'd either be in the bushes, or catch on a limb, or lost my worm. He'd run over {poor thing} get me all set up again, then try to go find a good spot for himself. And every time, every single time, Dad would get positioned, just perfect, cast, and...... "Daddy, I'm stuck." And every time, he'd reel in his bait, find where ever my line might be, reset, and cast it for me. He wasn't able to fish at all.

Finally he got smart. I had this Snoopy fishing people that was tiny {of course, I was 3-7 years old at the time} while I used this pole. Daddy would bring a big bucket with us. And whenever anyone caught a fish, he'd put it in the bucket full of water. Then he'd walk me over to the bucket and let me "fish" out of the bucket. It was perfect. I was happy, and he got to fish. I caught some whoppers, too!

Last year, I guess I wanted to reminisce so that's why I wanted to go fishing. Just Dad and I went to the pond, oh... and Ozzy came too. As Ozzy splashed in and out of the pond, Daddy set up my pole {this time it was a real pole.} Then he went to set up his own. Yes... I still don't bait my hook or unhook my fish. After a while of chattering, I, as we both knew it would eventually happen, hooked a tree... a rather large, tall tree. I still don't know how it happened. Faithful Daddy came over to try to correct my error. When he was exhausted, he finally cut the line, went back to tackle box, and reset my line with a new hook and bobble head {I don't know if that is the correct term, but that's what we always called the orange and yellow bobber that goes under water when you've a caught a fish.}

We went back to chatt'n it up....which I know you're supposed to be quiet while fishing, but Daddy always let me talk, and let's face it... I wouldn't be able to contain myself anyway. I noticed he was sitting on the ground picking on Ozzy. I thought it was odd, so I went over to the other side of the pond where they were, and asked him what was wrong with Oz. He said, "Other than being the stupidest craziest dog I've ever seen....just a tick." I noticed Daddy's pole was laying beside him. I asked, "Done fishin'?" {I know... how country is that?} He sweetly replied, "Nope. I only brought two hooks, and after you lost yours, I just cut mine off and put it on your pole so you could keep fishin'."

Another words, he loved me.

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