There are a million memories I have of my late mother, some good, some great and others well we're all just human but today I can sit back and laugh about them. Just like everybody else who's ever been born I owe a lot to my mother. She taught me numerous lessons about life. She protected me when I needed it and smacked me when I needed that too. I could tell a plethora of stories but this is a fishing blog so let's run with that.
Shortly after we relocated to the shore of Lake Lewisville (north Texas) in 1970 my dad got a tip from a friend at work about the sandbass (whitebass) running in the mornings off a certain point not far from the house. Charlie lived somewhere in the vicinity and kept an eye on those kinds of things. The brothers, dad and I had made a couple trips over on Saturday mornings and caught a fair amount of fish which ended up in the freezer.
One afternoon we disembarked from the bus and dad was sitting in the car waiting; an odd occurrence because it was normally 2 hours later before he got home in the evenings. The four of us- my 2 brothers, my sister and myself -piled in the backseat of the car.
"We're going fishing" dad told us "your mother is packing sandwiches and everything else is in the back." Looking back the gear was all stacked neatly into the cargo area of the old Rambler Wagon.
"Make it quick and get changed, Charlie says the sandbass are really running in the evenings. You're mother's going with us."
Kathy made protest about fishing being for boys but was met with "family outing" logic. Sow we were off and going fishing indeed, the six of us, the whole clan in the Rambler speeding toward the north end of the lake.
The 20 foot long seine was the first thing out of the car and dad and Mark made a quick swing along the drop on the sandy point. As they swung the seine around Tommy and I went to work scooping the handfuls of shad into the buckets of lake water. We had never seen this many shad on one pass of the seine.
Mom and Kathy had unloaded the rest of the gear and in just minutes after our arrival we lines in the water. Dad made sure we all ate our sandwiches quickly because as he put it "There won't be any time for it once the fish move in." He was right.
The girls had opted not to fish as they were there for the fun of it and just going to watch and swim. Within an hour the sandbass had made there assault on the enormous schools of shad that had stacked off the edge of the point. The first few fish came slow, one every couple minutes or so, but then all hell broke loose as the sandbass pushed the shad within casting range. The small cove formed by the long curving point was alive with surface activity, the water literally boiling with activity for minutes at a time.
Before we knew it the fish were hitting our baited hooks so fast we couldn't keep up. The girls had come back from the swimming side of the point to see what all the commotion was about as we boys barked in delight at one another, "fish on", "I got another one", "this is a big one"........
The fish were coming so fast we just started throwing them on the bank, not taking the time to put them in our buckets. Seeing what was going on mom rushed over and started picking up the fish and getting them in our buckets so they wouldn't thrash back into the lake. I won't say we were dirt poor back then but the loss of any kind of food was just that, a loss. With just a little urging Kathy joined in and for what seemed like hours we were trapped in a small bubble just the six of us and an unlimited number of willing fish.
The boys were casting, hooking, landing, baiting, casting, hooking and landing one fish after another as fast as we could heaving the fish onto the sand behind us. The girls were having a hard time keeping up getting all the fish into the buckets.
Eventually the action began to slow as the heat of the frenzy was over. We were all laughing, joking and generally as satisfied as a family could be as a whole. Then we witnessed something that never happened again. Mom went to dad and told him she wanted to try it. He helped her bait the hook and cast the line far into the lake. She took over and turned the handle once and felt the surge of power we boys had been experiencing all evening, she was fast into one of the larger sandbass of the day.
She whooped and laughed and strained to hold onto the bulky handle of dad's rod. By the time she slid the fish flopping onto the sandy shore we had all gathered round.
She looked at all of us with an enormous smile and said "That was fun, now let's go home."
We worked well into the night, the boys filleting and the girls packing. I don't know how many fish we caught that day but there was no room in the big chest freezer when we were done. We feasted on our catch the next evening.
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| Patricia Ann Fulks Wood April 3, 1940 - December 26, 1980 |
Thanks for the memories mom. Happy mother's Day!