I’m not a big coffee drinker. A half-cup will usually do me. Sometimes I make coffee at home, but not very often. So, I was not surprised when I found the coffee canister empty a few days back. What to do on a frosty morning when I needed a warmup? I opted for hot tea.
I tracked down a family-size tea bag and set a pot of water on to boil. Soon I had a strong cup of tea. A long-forgotten pleasure had me adding sugar and what my mother use to call “sweet milk.” Why? Memory is a funny thing.
My father took special pleasure in taking my brothers and me fishing. His favorite fishing spot was found on Indian Creek at Center Hill Lake. In the spring when crappies were biting, he would be there. He loved to fish the treetops and would occasionally sink a square bale of red clover hay to attract the fish. We used cane poles cut off the riverbank and “pencil” floats. Today, I think they call it “straight lining.” My brother and I called it heaven on earth. There is hardly a more beautiful sight to me than a big “slab” crappie lying on its side after being brought to the water’s surface.
Among the classic lines my father uttered over the years of our fishing excursions are these:
As we were departing for the lake, he would tell my mother to “get the skillet hot!” We rarely came back home emptyhanded.
If someone asked him where we were catching fish, he would smile and say, “In the mouth!” Then, he would chuckle.
When fish weren’t biting, he would accuse us of “not holding our mouths right.” I tried all kinds of facial expressions to get my mouth right so the fish would bite.
Sometimes he would ask, “Are you boys spittin’ on the hook?” I have spit on many a hook.
When we were fishing for bass and casting into the bank, an errant cast would often send our fishing lure into a tree.
“Are you boys fishin’ or squirrel huntin?” he would chide. My father was a man of unlimited patience, but if the miscues continued, he would say, “do it again and you are putting your rod and reel in the boat!” We learned to cast side-arm.
We were never very successful at fishing for bass, but we caught our share of crappie. Which brings be back to the cup of hot tea.
When I made that cup of hot tea with sugar and sweet milk, I was suddenly taken back to my boyhood days. We never drank hot tea at our table except when we ate the fish we had just caught. So, I recalled the “sweet” taste of fried crappie. And bones? Our father didn’t fillet the fish, so we had to be careful about bones. As I recall, our meal consisted of fish, mashed potatoes, and light bread.
At every meal our mother would caution, “If you get a bone in your throat eat a big wad of light bread. It will take the bone down.” No one at her table ever choked on a fish bone.
I think I will go crappie fishing this spring. And I think I will start drinking more hot tea.
Copyright 2024 by Jack McCall
