May is almost here, and on the 10 day weather forecast I see 80’s starting to show up. Hot weather. Where I’m not much of a fan of it now, I certainly once was.
May meant school was almost over, and a three month vacation was just around the corner.
The fishing rods and cane poles could be dusted off, and new nylon fishing line would replace the previous summers scum encrusted old stringy line. We’d cut the old rusty hooks that had been holding the line to the top of the rod off, and tie on a shiny new barbed hook and lead sinkers, or a snap leader, so we could use a shyster or a plastic black worm to entice a bass.
The Chattooga river was barely a rock throw away, and I could hear that water pouring over the dam, and feel the spray hitting me as I stood on one of those limestone rocks, casting out towards the middle…looking for a sweet spot. I can still smell it even now.
We’d get our baseball gloves out of the closet and rub a tiny bit of Vaseline into the dry leather, and then just put the glove up to our nose, and smell the scent of baseball. Visions of games with new clean uniforms, and wooden bats contacting those brand new white baseballs, perhaps even shattering the bat if you hit it too high up on the handle, well…those visions danced in the heads of us Trion boys more so than any candy cane at Christmas time ever did.
I can see Jess Emory chewing on a cigar, and hear J.W. Greenwood or Cherry Crisp calling: “strike three, you’re out” more often than I wanted to!
I took a Brillo pad and shined up my golf irons. I took a Phillips head screw driver and made sure the metal plates on all my woods were tight. Me and Dad, and Tommy and Mike Brown would go golf ball hunting to stock up for the summer. We boys would spend hours a week playing and practicing so we could be as good as Darrell Broome, or Faye Brown. We’d caddie during the times we couldn’t play for Otis Tanner, or Mr. Florence. We would get real good tips during the Trion/Ware Shoals match. I’d always try and get Donnie Davis or Mr. Munns from Ware Shoals. They paid good.
It’s funny the things you remember when the weather starts to turn. I’m glad I grew up where I did, when I did. I could write more, but the sandman calls.
Writing for Sanity's Sake 