Four a.m. and Granny is calling softly, "Son it's time to get up if your goin fishing today".

Tough crawling out from between the warmth of down quilts. It's only fall, but cold at 4 a.m. A quick walk outside to the outhouse will wake me up.

Gotta watch out for that danged old domineck rooster. He always ambushes me on the way or traps me inside and then flogs me on the way back to the house. I heard him crowing earlier. Gonna knock the blue blazes out of him one of these days.

Then there's that blamed old screech owl, the one who always manages to screech just about the time you get halfway to the outhouse, and can cause you to go before you get to where you were going. Makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck and gives you a shiver down your spine. But Granny always says "there's nothing in the dark that'll hurt you but yourself". Easy for her to say as I now begin to run.

Ain't got no time to look at the girls underwear adds in the Sears Roebuck catalog this morning, besides it's still dark. For some reason those pages never get torn out of the catalog, not by me anyway. Need to tell PaPa we need some more corncobs in the bucket.

Business taken care of and back to the wash basin to clean up. Brrr, that danged well water is cold this mornin coming from the outside water tank above the well. That old well has never run out of water in 50 years my PaPa says.

"Yes Granny, I'm brushin my teeth". Altho I don't know why, as I'm only goin fishin and the blamed fish don't know the difference. Dang woman is always reminding me to do this, or to do that..... Repeating PaPa, "women....humph......."

Back in the kitchen and sitting beside the old wood cook stove. Hot coffee perkin, slab bacon frying and hot bisquits in the oven. No one can make bisquits like Granny in that old wood cook stove I'm thinking as I scoot away from the stove because my britches are smoking. Nothin hotter than an old wood cook stove if you sit to close.

PaPa (pronoucned pawpaw) comes in for his breakfast and asks "Whatcha goin to do today boy"?

"Goin fishin PaPa" I reply.

"Hmph, be better off in the field helpin me plow with that team of old hardheaded mules,don't know why I let your Granny talk me into lettin you off today. Gotta get my peanuts out of the ground. Boys need to be kept busy to keep out of mischief." he gruffly says, with a twinkle in his eye, giving Granny a wink.

Granny replies, "Now Buster, boy's have to have some fun, don't they?", handing me a cup of steaming coffee (mostly milk with 2 tablespoons of coffee), along with only my Granny's million dollar smile.

I noticed he didn't argue with Granny. Like PaPa says "No one argues with Granny, not if they got any common sense at all. She's only 5'3", but she can reach up all the way to heaven to smack you one". She rules the roost around here.

Tough being the only grandson among a half dozen or more grand-daughters. Spoiled no, pampered, yes.

"Granny, nothing beats your pancakes, hot sorgum syrup, eggs, bacon, sausage and hot bisquits to get my day started", I said with syrup running down my chin and getting a big hug from her.

Granny has already fixed a sack lunch; leftover bisquits, bacon, and a bisquit drippin with homemade pear preserves.

Corn meal, a little piece of salt pork , and an old iron skillet already packed in a toesack. (oh, and a saltshaker). Toe-sack full , ready to go fishin.

Fishin tackle all ready from the night before.

Trusty old calcutta flyrod. ....."We called them Calcutta rods, but they were nothing more than a long bamboo pole, bought from the local feed store for a nickel. After cutting off the top eight feet or so, and attaching a few eyes made from baling wire, we had ourselves a dandy, custom-made flyrod....".
25 feet of fishing string, tie on a hook (one size fits all) and you're in business. No fancy reel, just tie the end of the line to the butt of the rod.

Caught the flies the night before (hoppers we call them), two cans full along with a few crickets. Too dry behind the barn to dig worms, my favorite bait. Good, with this dry spell the river will be lower and make for better wading.

Can't forget the 2 buttons and 25 feet of extra string for the empty bean cans, comes in handy later on for communicatin!.

Still dark out, but on my way. Gotta meet my cousin Billy near the watermelon field and make the trip to the river together.

As I sumble off the back porch, trying not to drop my old coaloil lantern, with dawn just crackin, Granny shouts, "now don't get wet boy and watch out for snakes you hear? and you and Billy don't go throwin rocks at those range bulls either"!

How's a man gonna go fishin and not get wet and who knows if your not gonna get snake bit while walkin through a peanut field, head high grass and wading around barefoot in the river? But me, messin with range bulls, no way, I ain't that brave, unless of course there's a handy tree to climb.

"Yes'um, be home before dark Granny".

"Better, remember PaPa's razor strap hanging by the fireplace" Granny again reminds me.

Granny sounds just like my mom saying, "Son make sure your underwear is clean in case you get hit by a car on the way to school".

"Good grief mom, my underwear ain't gonna stay clean if I do get hit by a car, they'll be full of crap", I always reply.

"Watch your smart mouth boy", mom replies. "or get your mouth washed out with soap". Hmm, had that treatment with lye soap more than once. Moma says I would't pick up such words if I didn't hang out at the feed store so much.

Yes'um

Kinda scary walking through the pecan grove in the sandy soil in the dark, with only a dim light from the old coal-oil lantern. . Sand feels cool and good to my bare feet.

Quick stop for a few persimmons (making sure the're ripe, if not I'll pucker for an hour). Lamp don't fail me now I thought, there might be a possum in the tree, and I sure don't wanna get bit. Them ole possums love persimmons more than I do.

Halfway to the river and in the watermelon field. "The devil made me do it", giggling I say to myself, as I picked up a cold watermelon and droped it to bust, eating only the heart (all the time remembering PaPa's razor strap hanging on the chimney wall, which has been known to be used for something besides sharpening a razor). A little sand made it taste even better, forgetting the salt shaker in the toesack.

"Hi peckerwood" Billy says, sneaking up behind, slapping me on the back, causing me to swallow a mouth full of watermelon seeds. Darn him. He sampled one or two watermelons himself. As we amble on down toward the river evil thoughts cross my mind on how to get even with him . I could holler "snake" but Billy's much bigger than me, and there would be the dicken's to pay later on. Don't need my Granny's lecture about another black eye.

I always let Billy lead the way. I'd rather him step on a snake than me and he's never figured out why he always gets to lead the way, he's older and braver (braver or dumber I sometimes wondered which) by a year. I'm always teasing him about his red hair, freckled face and his missing front tooth, pitiful site I tell him. "Smack"......, "ouch"....., guess I'll never learn to keep my big mouth shut. Red hair and freckles are typical in our family.

Sun just peeking over the trees and the river quite and peaceful. Good holes in the river that always hold fish. Perfect!

Billy and I rigged up our calcutta flyrods and commenced chunking "hoppers". (notice I said chunkin, not casting).

"Hey Billy" times awastin, I hollered, as he was still tying on a hook. Turtles and snakes along the bank slidding into the water as I approach the river. Gotta be careful not to step in a hole and get in over my head, which doesn't take much as short as I am.

"Wham"........, boy that one hit hard. Put's a good bend in my Calcutta. Don't need a net, just swing er back on the bank. Nice 5 inch trout (perch). Billy has a whopper on, nother trout about 14 inches. Puts a good bend in that old calcutta.

Caught at least a half dozen more trout, some smaller, some bigger. This continued off and on until about mid mornin, and then they quit bitin.

Time to clean fish and make dinner. (we eat dinner at lunch, & supper at night). Got out the old trusty boy scout knife (it's so dull it won't cut butter) and cleaned the fish.

Billy has already got the fire goin and the bacon grease hot in the old iron skillet.. Rolled the fish in cornmeal, throwed them in the pan and in a few minutes they were well burnt and ready to eat. Along with the fixin's Granny packed it made a mighty hearty meal for both of us. Billy's eatin faster than I can cook.

"Hey Billy, don't forget, save some of that salt for the watermelon patch on the way home".

Nap time now, under a shade tree and then skinny dipping, remembering what Granny said, "don't get wet", well at least not all over I thought, I gotta learn to swim sometime.

1942

Myself & Billy - 7 years old & a man already!
Had to bring this one to town to show everyone!

What a fishin trip. In 1942, if you were 7 years old and fishing the Brazos River in Palo Pinto County, Texas, all fish were trout. There weren't no such thing as "catch and release", it was "ketch and eat".

You've been wondering what the 2 buttons and extra string were for? Cellular phones, what else. Punch a hole in the bottom of the 2 bean cans, poke the string through and tie it to a button (do this at both ends), stretch the string tight between the 2 cans and you got as fine a cellular phone as any boy could wish for.