One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish

Blog 1740 – 06.29.2020

One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish

Today as I post the third children’s book that I read and recorded in a ten month long project, I introduce the first book by Dr. Seuss, the first of many I included. He is a rhyming poet and that has always been my favorite poetic form.

One fish two fish, red fish, blue fish

My first vivid recollection of doing anything fun with my dad is of a fishing trip he took me on. I was about five years old. It was just dad and me. Mom stayed home with my little brother. I remember that it was a very muddy walk trying to get close enough to the river bank to use our long cane poles in the water. Dad carried both poles, the tackle box, and the bait. I tried hard to walk in his foot steps, but got stuck in the mud several times and even lost a shoe in the mud once. But, dad pulled me out and my shoe. I remember him washing the mud off in the river. The car floor board was a muddy mess as we were on the way home. I do not think we even caught one fish, red, blue or any color, but we both came home sporting big smiles nonetheless. It was one of the best times I remember having with my dad.

My dad loved to hunt and fish. He was the most at home, the most content, and the most at peace on a bank, in a boat, waking down a wooded path, standing or sitting, waiting on a fish, a fowl, or a furry creature to happen by. I was and am still not the great white hunter or the avid fisherman that my dad was, but I relished every opportunity I had to be with him as he did his thing. Dad reminded me when I was all stressed out in my late thirties that I needed to find my own “resting place.” Why even Superman had his fortress of solitude.

A dear elderly pastor friend of mine who always had to work at his day job to support his church pastoring hobby told me that his longest job was as a repairman for Hammond Organs, clocks, and Westinghouse appliances sold by a large department store in Chattanooga, Tennessee called Fowler Brothers. Brother Collins said that his all-time favorite Westinghouse appliance commercial featured someone opening a new, at the time, Westinghouse refrigerator and finding a cute little bunny inside that said as the door opened and the refrigerator light came on, “Is this the westing house?”

My dad’s resting house, resting place, was not indoors, but in the great outdoors. And like him I find I am more comfortable outside than inside. Bike riding, walking, and even tooling down the streets and highways in my trusty truck, I prefer to being house bound for very long. Yard work has helped me stay sane during these already six month off work and almost four months of limited mobility due to the virus.

I am glad my dad missed out on this pandemic, but I do miss him and wish I could share one more hunting or fishing trip with him. I have entertained the idea since dad departed this life almost twenty-three years ago that he is well into another life already, twenty something and more than likely looking for a nearby fishing hole on weekends or a hunting spot in the cooler months.

Catch a big one for me, Dad, or several, one of every color of the rainbow – one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish…

Your friend and fellow traveler,

Sometimes fisherman like my dad,

David White

Young At Heart

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