GRANDDADDY ROBERTS AND THE FISHING TRIP

Granddaddy and Grandmother Roberts

Granddaddy and Grandmother Roberts

Granddaddy was a quiet rather shy family man. He was tall and lean with the leathery skin of the Florida cattleman.

One summer morning he asked my grandmother, my sister Virginia and me if we would like to go fishing. Grandmother loved to fish and for us kids, any opportunity to fish or just play in the cool water on a hot day was pure pleasure.

All of us piled into the Model-A Ford and headed for Horse Creek. Granddaddy took off through his pasture following a cow trail, for there was no semblance of a road. We scraped through heavy brush and palmettos, and over gullies until we came at last to an open area and stopped with a jerk near the banks of the creek.

Granddaddy untied our fishing poles from the side of the car and helped us bait our hooks from the can of worms he had dug earlier. Grandmother picked a likely spot for herself, Virginia and me to fish. Granddaddy decided to cross a foot-log, which bridged the creek at a narrow place. When he was about half-way across, he slipped and fell in the water with a loud splash.

Virginia and I ran to see what happened and saw his hat floating down the creek. He was a few steps behind, chasing it.

He retrieved his hat and clambered up the creek bank without a word. Virginia and I thought it was very funny, but Grandmother shushed us and told us not to laugh. I never knew why.

June Poucher (Dec. ‘14) “Maybe Grandmother thought it would embarrass him if we laughed. Somehow, I don’t think it would have. He always had a gentle patient manner with us. He never spoke harshly to us.”

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