Father’s Day: A Time to Fish

Fishing reel
Fishing reel (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

So tomorrow is Father’s Day. I will call my Dad tomorrow and wish him a happy one. I will also take a little walk down memory lane with him. Because Father’s Day when my brother and I were kids meant one thing.

Fishing.

Every year on Father’s Day, we would get up early. I am talking early here. Certainly no later than half five in the morning. We would creep out of the house and gather up all the fishing poles and tackle boxes, jump in Dad’s truck and head for the cafe.

Once there we’d fill up on the southern delicacy that is biscuits and gravy. Dad’s favourite was sausage gravy, but mine was and still is bacon gravy. It’s making me salivate just writing about it. Then we would head to the store and buy saltine crackers, all the better to catch minnows for bait. We also bought giant Cokes and Dr Pepper‘s to go with our purchases of Pork Rinds.

Then it was off to the bait shop for a big tub of night-crawler worms and some minnows to start out with till we caught our own. We would drive to Cincinnati creek (our favourite place for fishing) and park up the truck. By now the summer heat was intense, so Dad always tried to park the truck in the shade. All the fishing tackle would be gathered up from the back of the truck and we would start walking

Fishing Tackle shop, Malden Road, NW5

Dad did tell me the other day that Cincinnati creek, named after the little town of Cincinnati, Arkansas, no longer really exists. A tornado came and changed its course and pretty much wiped the little town off the map. Another childhood place and memory destroyed by the march of time and, in this case, the weather.

I remember one year when all in the same hour, I had a Water Moccasin snake wrap itself around my right cowboy boot to sleep and we saw a King snake killing a Cottonmouth snake as they floated down the creek.

English: Florida Water Moccasin Agkistrodon pi...

Creek fishing was the only way my family went fishing. We would walk miles down a creek looking for that perfect spot where the fish were biting. Every year without fail, we went creek fishing on Father’s Day. So tomorrow I’ll re-live those long ago days with Dad over the phone, well Skype actually, and remember how special those Father’s Days felt.

Happy Father’s Day Dad.