How Did 3 Years Go By So Fast?

In a few days, I'll be in a contemplative mood again as I remember my dear brother, Jimmy. It's hard to believe this year marks 3 since his passing. Where did the time go? I've always heard it said that the older you get, the faster time flies and I'm beginning to believe it. 

Since his death, I've tried hard not to forget him. The best way I can do that is to remember small things about him. That's another thing about getting old, you can remember things in the past much better than what you had for breakfast yesterday, so I'm thankful my memory bank is full. Today's memory focuses on something that brought my brother much joy -- fishing.

Daddy taught my  siblings and I how to fish when we were old enough to hold a pole. We'd visit Twin Brothers Lake or another one not far from the house. He took great joy in showing us how to slide the red and white bobber onto the line attached to the long cane pole and then, horror of horrors, he'd dump over a coffee can filled with sawdust and we'd watch as red wiggler worms crawled out. Looking for a "fat, juicy one," as Daddy would say, he'd show us exactly how to pierce the worm and carefully thread it onto the hook so it wouldn't fall off. He explained that way we'd have a better chance at catching a fish, and he was right! 9 times out of 10, we'd catch something. After we did, Daddy showed us how to take it off the hook and place it into a bucket of water until we got home where he'd spread newspapers on an outdoor table and show us how to first scale the fish then gut it. 

I hated that fishy smell but didn't mind taking a spoon and raking it across the fish's body watching as hard, shiny scales flew threw the air. It was gross when they'd stick to my forearms and I'd quickly brush them away. After the scales were removed, Daddy would cut off the fish's head, slice down its belly, and pull out the innards. I didn't mind any of that, in fact, I thought it fascinating, but I never grew to like the taste of fish. Perhaps it's because I almost choked to death on a fish bone once. That experience scared me to death and from that day forward, I never ate another piece of fish, not even Tuna from a can.

 

Jimmy and I shared a great love of nature. We found peace and solace hiking in the woods, wandering by a stream, or sitting by a lake. But more than anything, Jimmy loved fishing. He'd take every opportunity to be at the water's edge patiently casting and reeling in (after he progressed to a real rod.)

 

I remember years ago, Jimmy longed for a boat and mentioned this to Daddy one day. Not long after that, Daddy came home with a fixer upper he'd bought from a friend. That boat never got completely fixed up and was never put into the water, but it was a good project for a while. Eventually, Daddy ended up selling it to someone else who had more time, money, and energy to put into it, but Jimmy kept dreaming.

Many years later, after our Mother died and he received a small inheritance, he saw his dream come to fruition. He purchased a lovely pontoon boat and rented a slip at Lake Oconee. He was in heaven and went out every chance he could. 

 

He loved to catch Bluegill, Crappie, Gar, Bass, Catfish, or Warmouth. Whatever was biting, he'd manage to pull it in. 

 

Once, Daddy took him on a deep sea fishing trip. On the open ocean, fishing was a lot different. I don't remember if Jimmy caught anything or not, but I know my Daddy got a big Trigger fish. The only way I remember that is because that fish had a mouthful of teeth and Daddy thought that was the oddest thing. He saved the jawbone after cleaning the fish, I guess to prove the teeth were really there.

 

My last fishing trip with Jimmy was in the late 70's. We were on a family vacation Calhoun, GA. At Lake Marvin, we spent a lot of time fishing side by side. We didn't say a word as we sat on the bank in folding chairs. We just enjoyed  the peacefulness and beauty of nature. 

 

I like to imagine him up in heaven throwing out a line now and then, sitting on the shores of a beautiful lake daydreaming and in the distance, just as I'm about to close my eyes, I see the red and white bobber start to dip under and a great big smile cross his face.

 

It's so hard to miss a loved one and sometimes, keeping their memory alive is even more difficult. It seems as time passes away, the memories fade and slowly begin to slip away. I don't ever want to forget my brother. He wasn't perfect, by any means, but we had a special connection. It's rare to find those who just "get you."