Fishing for memories!

  For the past several days, the Bayou has seen its share of stormy weather.  Nothing terrible but just enough to keep us inside.  Mark and I make short (quick) trips to the pier to check the small skiff but usually get chased in by the rain.  Not only has there been copious rainfall, the wind has been churning up the Bay.  This is all good by me but has Mark a bit antsy.  He wanted to go fishing!  It is a no-go, however, as the skiff bounces around like a toy boat in a whirlpool!  It just is not safe.

  This morning, that desire to fish got the best of him.  While on the pier, he threw the net a few times  "just to see if there is anything out there".  Well, there was not much.  He caught one small croaker and that was it!  The croaker was photographed then released.  It happily swam away unscathed.  That croaker got me thinking of days passed when my cousin and I would paddle out in (of all things, a molded plastic lifeboat that we called "The Bathtub").  We were young...probably too young to be out in the middle of the Bay by ourselves but times were different then.  We never felt that we were in danger and I am sure my aunt kept a watchful eye on us from her kitchen window. 

  Croakers were the prize we were set to catch.  They were quick to bite and easy to hook.  Just about anything could be used as bait as they were not picky.  It was our goal to catch as many as we could in the short time we were allowed to fish.  Usually, we were told to be home before noon as the fish had to be cleaned for lunch.  Neither of us had a watch so our "alarm" was Aunt Marie letting out a yell for us to come home.  Her voice would carry across the open Bay with no problems.  We, then, would paddle back home with our catch.  The fish were cleaned and Aunt Marie would fry them.  It was then our job to get back in that little boat and paddle down the shoreline to my uncle's place.  He was building a house there and had little time to cook lunch.  We toted it to him.  Croakers were on the menu quite often.

  It is funny how seeing the pretty, little fish with its golden scales started the flood of memories.  Those were good times...happy, carefree times.  Margie and I had no worries, no fears.  Unlike kids today, we spent our summers outside not cooped up inside glued to some electronic device.  We played, roamed the woods, fished in the Bay and generally were just being kids.  I miss those days.