Hook, line and sinker!

 My eyes popped open before 5:00 am, and I lay there thinking of my first husband.  Now, I was not thinking of him in a romantic way, but rather as how he lived his life in a way that he wanted.  To say he was a rebel would be an understatement, because he did not rebel.  He just lived his life the way he wanted to and never bothered with the rules society tried to place around him.  My brother introduced me to him in the bar up the street and 3 weeks later we were standing in front of the preacher.  To say he swept me off my feet would have been an understatement, but there we were.  Of course it all ended up badly, but there were good times and that is what I am thinking this morning.

One of his favorite things was to drive the back roads and just do what came naturally.  There was always several guns in the back seat and fishing poles in the trunk.  His motto was "Be prepared."  I guess he may have been a boy scout at some time! If a pheasant made the mistake of stepping out of the ground cover it was dinner.  I spent many hours picking buckshot out of a pheasant breast so I could cook it for supper, or dinner, or breakfast.

And while the pheasants, doves, and rabbits were not my favorite fare it was rather exciting to know that we were breaking the law because not only were they out of season, Duane never procured a hunting license in all the years I knew him.  You should know that I participated in the hunt as a spectator.  Now don't get me wrong as to the killing of animals.  I could rip the head off a chicken, dip it in scalding water, defeather and gut it in seven minutes flat, but a chicken caught with a wire hook and butchered was a way of life.  Killing a beautiful pheasant was another story!  Survival.

While driving we often came to a creek, river, brook or an unattended farm pond that was stocked with fish.  I could fish!  A babbling brook was my favorite as it contained Crappie!  A creek, lake, pond or river were sure to hold catfish which was my least favorite eating fish.  Perch were fun to catch, but very bony.  Ah, but the Crappie was a delight!  Now it is pronounced with a soft "a" as in awe.  They are small and much like a Perch, but a Perch is very boney and fishy tasting.  The Crappie is a white meat and very mild.  They like running water and a "fly" is the best bait.  When they strike the lure it is a thrill like no other.  With catfish you have to set very quietly and wait until they are damn good and ready, but while you think  you are snagging a Crappie, he is snagging you!

When I married Kenny, we fished out of a boat.  In Colorado trout are abundant, so that is what we fished for.  Kenny would clean the trout, pack the stomach area with butter and roll it in flour and wrap it in tinfoil.  The packet was then placed on the cooling coals of the campfire.  Talk about the good life!

Several years back  I bought a tackle box, fishing pole and all the stuff to fish with on the river.  I never went.  I did tie a weight on the end of my line and practiced my cast, but that is as far as it went.  Maybe I just got old along the way, but something about setting on a lonely creek bank went from being peaceful and fulfilling to hoping no one comes along and kills me.  Old age!  I friggin' hate it, but I guess it beats hell out of dying young, which was the option I did not take.

So, the fish I eat now comes in a bag and is labeled as "farm raised".  I do not have to gut it, or skin it, or debone it.  Just take it out of the package, thaw it out and pop it in the microwave with butter, lemon, and a little dill.  Course I have to put my dishes in the dishwasher and then kick back in my recliner and remember the good old days!

Makes me think of that song I have playing in my head.  "I'd trade all of my tomorrows for a single yesterday."

Peace.

Hey! Wait just one minute here!

This is not fair!  No way is this a fair thing to happen to me!  Yesterday it was 70+ degrees.  Day before that it hit 80.  Now  this morning there is snow.  Stop this madness.  It is Spring.  The Daffodils are blooming and everything!  The ducks are mating as are the geese. Now I have Robins playing in the snow.  What is wrong with this scenario?

Oh, yeah, now I remember, I live in Colorado!  Beautiful Colorado in the foothills to the Rockie Mountains.  Kenneth and I were on our way to a place near Durango many years ago to get a load of coal for some one.  Being the end of May and hotter than the dickens, I wore my shorts and we did not bother taking a coat.  The first problem we encountered was that the pass had the chain law in effect.  Usually we called and checked things like that, but rarely, if ever do you worry about it when it is 80 degrees.  Course there is that little altitude thing we should have thought about.  A lesson learned, but not retained, although we did make it a habit to carry chains and coats no matter where we went or when we went.

See, I should have known when I met that man what I was in for.  Before we ever did the "I do" thing in front of the minister in the assisted living center in Canon City and had a celebratory doughnut as our wedding supper, there were signs of the future.  Take for instance, the weekend camp out and boating trip the weekend AFTER Labor Day. 

We loaded the camper shell, boat, fishing tackle, lots of food, camp stove, two kids and my poodle/chihuahua, Sysnyck  and headed for Turquoise Lake, about as high up as you can get without going clear to heaven.  It was late when we got there so we immediately pitched the tent and went to bed.  It immediately began to rain.  The bathrooms were locked up, being after Labor Day and all, but it was a big forest.  Morning broke to show a beautiful view of the lake, ice floes and all.  Fuel had leaked out of the camp stove.  Kids were wet and frozen.  My bottom  and the forest floor did not take to well to each other.  But we had come to boat and fish and by jeepers that was what we would do.  And did it we did.

The worms were frozen, but the boat was not.  We boarded the seaworthy vessel and cranked it up;  fishing poles remained on the bank.  My stalwart Captain roared away from the dock, the dog jumped overboard, the daughter burst out in tears because she was going to die.  He idled, turned  around and picked up the dog and headed back to shore.  We arrived home early that afternoon and it was again 80 degrees, but we were still frozen.

The year on that was 1982.  Perhaps you recall that being the year there was a sudden spike in antibiotic sales?  Both kids had raging fevers the next day.  I am a firm believer that such things are brought on by a virus and not getting cold and wet, but I did make an exception in that case.

The following summer, July 4 weekend to be exact, we took a 3 day weekend, same boat, vacation to the high lakes in the Rockies.  Kids refused to step foot off the place after the first vacation.  When we got home I was so sunburned I had to sleep standing up.  Not really, but it was bad!  So I now know, but still occasionally forget what Colorado is all about.  Check my car.  I have blankets, coats, sunscreen, water, an emergency stable food source, and my Bible.  I am taking no chances. 

The kids are grown up and gone.  Kenny has passed to his much deserved  reward and I am here alone.  I do still go to the mountains, but only for the day.  I go with a friend or sometimes just drive up to Beulah to see my friend Jan.  So I stay in Colorado.  It has become home to me and I expect when I close my eyes and see Kenny coming to pick me up, his silhouette will be against the back drop of Pikes Peak or Turquoise Lake or something else quite as beautiful.  When that happens I will not look back.  And I expect you all to be happy and wish me bon voyage!  Cause I will be tripping the light fantastic with a man who never had a lick of rythym any where near his body, but he could catch a fish.