The fishing hole

As mentioned before, when we were growing up we spent alot of our time in Sterling Nebraska.  Because my dads favorite hobby has always been fishing, we spent a lot of time at various ponds during these visits. There was always one favorite fishing hole that my dad would take me to. I suppose my mom and siblings would go there too, I just don't remember.

It took determination to get to this fishing spot. We would pile into the car and drive down the high way. Somehow my dad always knew the exact place to pull off on the side of the road and park. If my memory serves me correctly (and it may not, but this is my story so this is how I will choose to tell it) we would be on some sort of farmers road and have to walk. In case you don't know what a farmers road is, I will try to describe it. A farmers road is not really a road at all. It is just a spot by the farmers land where he could drive to get to the other side of the field. Generally he drove on this non road so often that there would be 2 tire paths in the weeds. So we would walk down this tire path farmer road with weeds as tall as I was and trees on each side that shaded us. In my memory I worked hard to keep up with my dad because I had to carry  all of the fishing poles, maybe even the tackle box.  We would get to the fishing hole down by the rail road tracks and I would have to stand in place while dad would walk on and check out the site before letting me continue on down to the water. One time I could hear all kinds of kids laughing so I asked my dad what the heck those kids were doing and why I always had to wait while he checked things out. He told me he was making sure that the kids were not skinny dipping. It never occurred to me until years later that maybe I would have wanted to see what skinny dippers looked like, but dad must have figured it was something I shouldn't see.

Finally after all that work we would be able to get started fishing. This little spot was more of a small creek shaded by trees with water so clear you could see the fish swimming around.  We used to catch fish after fish...again, my memory and maybe a small bit of a fish story, but I am sure we caught alot. When done, we would tromp back to the car. 

 Was this a great place to go to with my dad, or a great place to go because I went there with my dad?

Happy Birthday Dad, thanks for all the great memories.

Net

My ordinary Hero

Through out these last years of hardship, I have come to know and respect many people, one of which I will always view as a hero. At this moment I can see him rolling his eyes and completely ignoring the fact that I have referred to him as a hero. He is a relative on my husband's fathers side. I had seen this person only a very small number of times and had never spoken to him. People would point him out to me and always comment on the fact that he is the black sheep of the family. It would never be a comment that was made to be mean, just a fact. I laugh at that now because if I were to call him a black sheep he would not have that same roll of the eyes reaction he would have if I were to refer to him as a hero.

Once my son got into trouble, my mother-in-law suggested I contact this relative since he had gone through the same thing we were now experiencing. She called him and he told her to give me his phone number. The first time he came to our house to get my son, I will admit to having been extremely intimidated. This is a vary large man, well over 6 feet tall with a booming voice to match. He had an unlit cigar in the corner of his mouth, which I now know is as part of his wardrobe as are his shoes. He mentored my son and took him to AA meetings. He called and checked up on us and was viewed by us as a very good part of our family.  At the first meeting with our lawyer, it was suggested that we contact a person the attorney knew who "has turned AA into a religion." Who did he suggest you ask??   The very hero in which I am writing about.
I had also learned from friends that knew of him, that when he speaks at AA functions, people stand in line to hear him.

My hero came to my son's sentencing and sat right behind us. When the sentence was delivered, I heard a gasp from a woman behind us and I also heard my hero jump up and slam the court room door open. I did not look back to see this happen, I just remember that I knew it was him. And I remember being glad that someone had the reaction I wished I could have had, if I had not had the air knocked out of me and some sort of paralysis take over my entire body. I have heard my mother-in-law praise this relatives actions and am sure that she may be the reason he would no longer be referred to as the black sheep of the family.

(I do know for a fact that this label amused him).

I have heard from my hero a couple of times by phone, but had recently seen him while paying respect at an uncles funeral. My hero would never come forward in a crowd but instead, remains comfortable in the back. We made our way to him and what would be the first thing from his mouth?

"Come here and give me a hug"

followed by one of the biggest bear hugs I have ever gotten.

I call him a hero for the things he had done for my family. I call him an ordinary hero for the fact that he would honestly not understand why I would be grateful for anything he has ever done for us. 

Whether quietly standing in the back at a mortuary or slamming out of a court room,

I am in awe of this man.

Net