Sister and I awoke to the smell of smoked bacon frying in the kitchen and a rooster crowing nearby. It was summer time and the figs were ripe and the lake was teaming with fish just waiting to jump into the frying pan.
I was too little to reach the kitchen sink so wasn't much good for helping Mama and she did just fine on her own. Some of the best eating came from her kitchen. Fried chicken, fried catfish, fresh steamed peas and new potatoes from Papa's garden lightly salted and buttered. Homemade rolls in the shape of a clover leaf, corn on the cob, and mashed potatoes. There was no end to the bounty.
Papa gave us nick names from my earliest memories. Mine was "Neesy" and Sister's was "Bitty," for
"little bitty." Papa would wait for us to finish breakfast and wash up and then invited us to go fishing with him.
We walked out the screen door, which never squeaked because Papa kept WD-40 on hand for oiling hinges and occasionally oiling his knees which he claimed fixed his arthritis, but I don't recommend it. The black frame screen door had a familiar slam when it shut behind us as though it was announcing our entrance to the great outdoors.
Verdant trees and patches of horse herb cast were painted in the sunlight's dancing through the leaves, casting alternating shadows and sunlight so beautiful that I could hardly breathe. We waited expectantly as Papa gathered the supplies: tall as the trees cane fishing poles with red and white bobbers, a tackle box which has all the implements needed for fishing except the poles, an empty Folger's coffee can and some ivory soap.
Then we followed him to the fishing pier on H-4 Lake in Gonzales County, Texas where there was just enough room for me and Sister to sit on the end of the pier. Papa would bait our hook with a worm and then toss the poor thing out into the lake, handing me a can pole and instructing me to watch for the red and white bobber to dunk under the water. Then I was to call for help and he'd help me reel it in scooping it up with a net if it was a big one.
Sister and I sat there for the longest time sitting on the edge of the pier, dangling our feet over the edge. I sat so still that a dragonfly would light on the end of my can pole sunning his wings and resting a spell and I was mesmerized by the gentle movement of his iridescent wings. Off in the distance a boat would chug by and the fishermen would wave to us on the shore. It was a friendly place and everyone knew and like Papa and Mama.
After awhile, Mama called us into the house for lunch and Papa said, "Y'all go on in and wash up, I'll join you in a little while." We ran up the steps to the house and washed up in the Jack and Jill bathroom that separated our bedroom from theirs.
We sat down at the table and waited for Papa who came in shortly. After dinner, which is what they called the noonday meal, we had to rest, so we laid down on the couch, small enough still so that we could lay down feet to feet with our heads at the opposite end of the couch and still not touch.
I didn't mind resting because everything was so beautiful and so clean. I loved visiting Mama and Papa at the lake. Papa came and got us when rest time was over and we went back outside through the noiseless screen door, punctuated with a slam. "Looky here!" Papa exclaimed. I went to check on your fishing poles and there was a fish!" And sure enough, there was a cute little fish swimming around in a wash tub filled with lake water.
"How about that! My first fish!" I cried. Then Sister and I knelt down beside the fish and watched his tail and fins wave gently in the tub of water almost like he was waving at us. Papa suggested after awhile that we let him go back into the lake since he was a little one to give him time to grow and get bigger. So we ceremoniously walked along with Papa as he carried the perch to the lake and gently tossed him with a "There you go little fella."
I was so proud I could pop. I had never ever caught a fish before and it was so exciting. It made me want to go fishing again and again.
