Summer 1960, I was eight years old when my Father decided to take me to his fishing camp at Lake Mary, Mississippi. I guess he couldn’t get any of his friends to go with him that weekend because he ended up with Mr. Bill Lacy who was eighty and me in a boat fishing for white perch.
I vaguely remember spending the night in the exotic camp – well exotic to an 8-year-old – and how cool it was to be “roughing it.” The camp had been built on stilts to protect it from periodic floods but years before after the floods were controlled a “ground floor” was added. The camp had all the comforts of home – more-or-less.
The three of us must have made quite a sight on the Lake that Saturday morning. Mr. Bill was a little shaky and so Daddy had to bait his hook for him. I was squeamish about touching the live minnows we used for bait. Since my “weak stomach” was well known by then it only took a couple of loud gags to convince Daddy that he should bait my hooks also! The fish were biting like crazy! I remember lowering my freshly baited hook into the water and watching the red-and-white float disappear as it touched the water!
Sometimes a fish took the bait before the floater even got to the water. It was constant. Mr. Bill was fishing one side of the boat, I fished the other and both of us would swing the hook back to Daddy to bait. I would also swing back the hook with a fish on it so Daddy could remove the fish and either release it if too small or put it on the stringer if it was a keeper. Daddy never even got to put his hook in the water. Besides having to bait the hook and remove the catch he was trying to keep us in the terrific spot we were in by using a wooden paddle. I don’t know if they had invented those little trolling motors that people use now or if he just hadn’t bought one so he did that job too!
We caught an outrageous number of fish but unfortunately, a gar (that’s what Daddy called it – a rainbow colored carnivorous fish) attacked the string and ate a bunch of the fish before Daddy noticed and stopped the attack by hitting the gar with his paddle.
After a couple of hours, Mr. Bill and I were having a great time but Daddy was exhausted. He suggested that we go back to the camp, have lunch and then return to Magnolia. He convinced me to be enthusiastic about leaving by telling me that he would get my picture put in the local paper for the great catch!
We drove home and the photographer/editor from the Magnolia Gazette was waiting for us (slow news weekend I guess). I jumped out of the truck and sped into the house while the adults hung the fish string from the back of Daddy’s truck. I was in such a hurry because I wanted to have an appropriate (and stylish) outfit for the photo. I couldn’t be in the paper in my dirty jeans and t-shirt! I chose white deck pants (called Capri pants these days) with a bright red shirt – the shirt was one of my favorites – it had a v-neckline with red, white, and blue striped material in the v!
I vaguely remember spending the night in the exotic camp – well exotic to an 8-year-old – and how cool it was to be “roughing it.” The camp had been built on stilts to protect it from periodic floods but years before after the floods were controlled a “ground floor” was added. The camp had all the comforts of home – more-or-less.
The three of us must have made quite a sight on the Lake that Saturday morning. Mr. Bill was a little shaky and so Daddy had to bait his hook for him. I was squeamish about touching the live minnows we used for bait. Since my “weak stomach” was well known by then it only took a couple of loud gags to convince Daddy that he should bait my hooks also! The fish were biting like crazy! I remember lowering my freshly baited hook into the water and watching the red-and-white float disappear as it touched the water!
Sometimes a fish took the bait before the floater even got to the water. It was constant. Mr. Bill was fishing one side of the boat, I fished the other and both of us would swing the hook back to Daddy to bait. I would also swing back the hook with a fish on it so Daddy could remove the fish and either release it if too small or put it on the stringer if it was a keeper. Daddy never even got to put his hook in the water. Besides having to bait the hook and remove the catch he was trying to keep us in the terrific spot we were in by using a wooden paddle. I don’t know if they had invented those little trolling motors that people use now or if he just hadn’t bought one so he did that job too!
We caught an outrageous number of fish but unfortunately, a gar (that’s what Daddy called it – a rainbow colored carnivorous fish) attacked the string and ate a bunch of the fish before Daddy noticed and stopped the attack by hitting the gar with his paddle.
After a couple of hours, Mr. Bill and I were having a great time but Daddy was exhausted. He suggested that we go back to the camp, have lunch and then return to Magnolia. He convinced me to be enthusiastic about leaving by telling me that he would get my picture put in the local paper for the great catch!
We drove home and the photographer/editor from the Magnolia Gazette was waiting for us (slow news weekend I guess). I jumped out of the truck and sped into the house while the adults hung the fish string from the back of Daddy’s truck. I was in such a hurry because I wanted to have an appropriate (and stylish) outfit for the photo. I couldn’t be in the paper in my dirty jeans and t-shirt! I chose white deck pants (called Capri pants these days) with a bright red shirt – the shirt was one of my favorites – it had a v-neckline with red, white, and blue striped material in the v!
My favorite shirt for photos.
I finished the ensemble with a fishing cap that matched the blue in the v-neck material and white socks with navy blue tennis shoes – I thought that I looked impeccable! I wasn’t aware of any of the adults noticing my clothing change or making any comments but I look back now and wonder if someone watching the whole thing wasn’t at least speculating about my sexual orientation. I certainly was not aware that my behavior was suspect or anything out of the ordinary – just did what came naturally.
Newspaper coverage in my "fashionable" ensemble.
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