Good morning all. The rain came to visit and cleaned everything up rather nicely. Today I would like to share one of my favorite stories.
My summers were often spent in Northeast Mississippi and in the country. Really in the country. There was a Mr. and Mrs. G who owned a small rural grocery that provided most things farmers and their families would need in a pinch. At least it kept folks from going to town on work days. Well this particular day was gloriously beautiful and the only thing anyone wanted to do was go fishing. The cotton fields were growing nicely and they had been hoed free of weeds, so why not take a day off and go fishing. Mrs. G decided she didn't want to be at the store if everyone was going fishing so the sign and lock went into the window and we all headed for the river.
Two rivers ran parallel behind a very prosperous cotton field and a sand bar divided them. Trees loaned large limbs to keep the banks and water shaded making this a special place to go fishing. Today we wanted to cross over the first river and the sand bar to fish in the other river. Well Mr. G had a Long John, which is just a fishing boat, built simply with twin benches, one on either end of the shallow boat. He was a congenial man with an humble manner and he was more than happy to take everyone across the river using paddles to propel the boat. So, a few of us at a time he patiently deposited us on the sand bar.
What I haven't mentioned yet is the fact that Mrs. G weighed in about 350 pounds. As small and kind as Mr. G was, Mrs. G was not. Boy she would whip anybody with a stick of stove wood and never even blink. I think she thought it was her duty or something. We were really afraid of that woman and we did not relish the idea that she would be going fishing so we really needed to fish the other river, if you get my drift. We left her on the bank of the first river and hurried across the sand bar.
She always got what she wanted though and we could hear her yelling at poor Mr. G.
After about thirty minutes she came plowing her way across the sand bar with a pole in one hand and a old baking powder can filled with worms in the other hand. The grown ups made her welcome and we kids took off up the sandbar to dig up snake eggs. The only good water moccasin was a dead one and killing them while they were in the shell was the best so we busied ourselves and stayed out of the way.
The fishing was good and everyone was ready to return so Mr. G happily paddled us back across the first river. We all sat around and waited while he brought his dear wife across the sandbar. All eyes were fixed on her when he helped her into the Long John. The poor little boat sank deeper, deeper and amazingly it leveled out. I'm not sure the kids weren't a little disappointed but Mr. G was happy to paddle the river. He arrived to the bank, got out of the boat and tied it up, then he reached his hand to help Mrs. G out of the boat. It was a moment frozen in time as that big old water moccasin decided to check everything out and dropped from the limb of the big oak tree on the bank, leaving his very end to keep him attached to the tree. Mrs. G ran over Mr. G and we all sat in numb silence as she cleared all 30 rows of cotton and the barbed wire fence. She scattered the entire chicken yard and removed the door to the wire fence behind the house. With one movement she cleared the six steps to the back porch and slung the screen door open. She was gone. We realized what had happened and we forgot the snake and the husband who were still in shock and we lay on the ground and laughed until we cried and then we giggled for thirty minutes.
I think she set a record for the 800 yard dash if there is such a thing. What a fishing expedition that was and how do you explain the extenuating circumstances any differently?
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