Not all my childhood memories are idyllic. I hated - HATED - going fishing, which obviously was a huge disappointment for my fishing father. There was nothing about any fishing experience I ever had that was anything but awful. Now let me explain before you block me from Facebook; maybe you'll appreciate my side a little more. Ordinarily I would have totally embraced any chance to venture out into the world away from the house, even if it was just to the Saline River. Y'all may find this hard to believe, but sometimes my mouth got me grounded; my momma would whip ("whup") me; she would tell dad about it when he got home from work and he would ground me. I did not have that shutoff valve that engages when your mouth overloads your brain; I was pretty much grounded until I moved to Little Rock after high school graduation. So because I didn't have a good history of following the rules, I was always "invited" to go along on those fishing trips; not going was not optional. But if our fishing trips had been to the beautiful Buffalo River, I'm sure my fishing memories would have been drastically different. Just look at the picture on the left; would YOU choose this over the beautiful Buffalo River? Let me take you on a little trip down my memory lane; just watch out for snakes.
So dad would come home from a miserably hot day in the log woods and declare, "Load up! We're going fishing." I pretended not to hear. I hid. I probably cried a little. But I knew the routine and would eventually try to come to terms with it. I could be just a little OK with it if I had a good book to take along, my only means of escape.
I will spare you the details of digging worms for fish bait; this had to be done before we even left the house. Oh. My. Goodness.
So we would load up. No tent. No fancy camping equipment. We would take one quilt to sleep on; no pillows; we "slept" in the bed of the pickup. The mosquitoes had a field day; their buzzing sounded like heavy machinery in the middle of the sleepless night. And do you city folks know what it's like to wake up covered in dew? I didn't think so.
But you're probably thinking that we would at least have some pretty wonderful camp food on this impromptu camping trip, right? Wrong. No sitting around a campfire with hot dogs and smores and singing Kum Ba Yah, that's for sure. ALL we took was coffee, lard (yep, lard), cornmeal, and pork and beans. And maybe eggs and light bread for breakfast. You're thinking that I surely left something off this list, right? Nope. Let me enlighten you. Kids don't usually drink coffee; the option was warm water from a fruit jar; if the planets were lined up just right there might have been Kool-Aid, but that was rare. Kids' favorite food is usually not pork and beans. The lard and meal were for frying the fish. But what if we didn't catch a fish? Pork and beans.
In the early morning after the fancy breakfast buffet, we would catch minnows ("minners") for bait for the catfish we would be catching soon; not catching catfish was not an option; see previous paragraph regarding pork and beans. I actually didn't mind "minner" fishing so much as long as someone would bait my hook with the worm. Oh my goodness. The "pre-fishing" for "minners" didn't involve getting out in the boat; we could fish from the side of river at the campsite. I may have actually enjoyed these times because my mom seemed so happy about fishing from the riverbank. I know now that in her mind she was probably traveling the world and having grand adventures in foreign lands. (I'm quite sure those daydreams didn't involve fishing.) If I listen closely enough now, I can still hear that old muddy Saline River gurgling over rocks and fallen trees. I can still feel the cool breeze before the triple-digit temps took over. I can still smell the faint intoxicating scent of wild jasmine. Those are the good memories I salvaged from the fishing trips.
So after enough "minners" were caught, daydream adventure time was over and we had to board the boat. Oh boy. (Note tone of sarcasm.) Dad's fishing boat was rumored to be a lifeboat from The Ark; it was that old. And of course it leaked; not a bad leak, mind you, but enough to mix with the river mud from the bottom of our flip flops and it created a less-than-ideal place to put those already dirty shoes. Stagnant Saline River mud is a smell you'll not soon forget. And were y'all thinking we would be fishing with a pole? Nah. Dad's preferred method was trotline fishing. And where would we actually tie that trotline? From the most snake-infested bushes and low hanging trees on the river, of course. We would spend the rest of the day setting out the trotlines. My job was to help paddle in the places where dad couldn't maneuver the boat using the motor, right up against the snake-infested bushes while he tied the trotlines. What was my momma doing all this time in this muddy, stinky, leaky boat? She was off on another one of her grand adventures in a foreign land, of course. "Mom. MOM! What are we gonna have for lunch?" "Pork and beans, dear."
In retrospect, what I'd give to be in that muddy, stinky, leaky boat with my mom and dad just one more time. My cousin, Doug said that some of his best memories were fishing on the Saline River with my dad. Obviously Doug must have liked pork and beans better than I did. I love how the stories have changed just a little over the years with each retelling, and those stories are told and retold at every family reunion. Somehow in spite of all the unconventional fishing escapades, my Hill and Mathis cousins and uncles survived their own individual trips with my dad; their memories aren't any more glamorous than mine; Uncle Donnie will vouch for this. My Stanley didn't fish with my dad until after we were married; it's a good thing, because I would be Stanless still. (Kinda like stainless steel, yet not.) Dad's fishing trips were serious business; that part of the story never changes. And no one ever brings pork and beans to a family reunion. Ever.
The corona virus just hasn't made that much difference in this old retired couple's social life. We still do pretty much the same things we've done all along, but with masks and a five gallon bucket of hand sanitizer. We're just very content to stay at home, and that's where you'll find us 99% of the time. Earlier in the week, however, while having our coffee on the back porch, we decided that we would get up early the next morning and grab a Sonic breakfast burrito and a Diet Coke and head to the river for breakfast, just a quick 15 minute trip from downtown Marshall.
Normally the Saline River and the Buffalo River are at polar opposites of the river experience spectrum. While the Saline River is always muddy and stinky, the Buffalo River usually runs clear. But today I noticed while breakfast-ing at the river, the water was low and barely moving; not a good day for floating at all, as evidenced by the near empty parking lots at the raft rental establishments. The camping areas were almost totally deserted. We were the only ones at the picnic area. Hardly anyone had any interest in our normally beautiful river during these stagnant, muddy, stinky conditions.
At this point in my blogs, I try to tie in my attempt at a humorous experience with something much more profound. There is a southern gospel song (written by Max and David Sapp) about a river that runs crystal clear and offers so much more than the Buffalo or the Saline River ever could. That song has stuck in my mind, and I'm just going to leave these lyrics with you. I can't add one thing that could possibly drive my point home any better than this:
There is a river and it flows from deep within. There is a fountain that frees the soul from sin. Come to this water; there is a vast supply There is a river that never shall run dry.
There was a thirsty woman; she was drawing from the well. See, her life was ruined and wasted and her soul was bound for hell. Oh, but then she met the Master and He told her of her sin. And He said, "If you drink this water, you'll never thirst again"
There is a river and it flows from deep within. There is a fountain that frees the soul from sin. Come to this water; there is a vast supply There is a river that never shall run dry.
"And he shewed me a pure river of water of life,
clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb."
Revelations 22:1
And as always, thank you for reading my words!