my Granddaddy loved to fish. Fishing for Granddaddy was not complicated. It involved a cane pole and a styrofoam cup of nightcrawlers or red wigglers. Fancy lures and shiny bobbers, rods with rigs and reels were not the way to go for simple, uncomplicated fishing.
Granddaddy did have a boat for a bit. I remember that boat was decked out with the fancier gear. Maybe it was what the lake fishing called for versus the pond. I enjoyed riding in that boat, but I do not remember fishing.
Fishing was at the pond. We would go in the late afternoon. I was allowed to carry the bait, but only Granddaddy carried the poles. At the pond I would wait while he untangled the line, checked for knots, fixed the bobber and then baited the hook. Watching that worm wriggling for freedom was morbidly enthralling.
I was fearful of that hook. Just one time getting that barbed point in my index finger had taught me to respect the business end of the pole. Which is why Granddaddy's main job was baiting and taking any fish off that were caught.
The fun part was taking my fully loaded, worm baited cane pole and throwing the line into the pond as far as I could. The hardest part was the silence that had to exist while fishing. Granddaddy told me that talking scared off the fish. I think he was right because whenever I was quiet and not asking questions, we would catch fish.
Lots of fish. Brim and crappy mostly and even the occasional catfish. Each one that was big enough (it's all subjective when you're catching brim and crappy) was placed in the cooler. Because the best part was the evening fish fry. Mimi would come out to the pond with the rest of the fixings and Granddaddy would heat up the fish fryer.
My mouth would water like crazy until finally that crispy golden fish was done and I was allowed to take my first bite. The coleslaw and hushpuppies finished the meal, but nothing was like that first bite of fish.
A muddy pond, a cane pole, a wriggling nightcrawler. That is all fishing needed to be.