Randy Dickson: A fish story that still stings
One of my favorite summer camps is also led by one of my favorite people.
The Twin Hills fishing camp this past week with Ernie Martin was a winner for the fourth straight year. Anyone that knows Ernie and the love he has for fishing and for kids wouldn’t be surprised by the popularity of the camp.
Ernie teaches the kids to fish the old fashioned way, from the banks of the ponds at Twin Hills. He teaches them to use a cane pole with a worm on the hook and a float to let them know when they have a bite.
Ernie’s camp reminds me of another time and another place, when I was about the size of the youngest anglers.
I was maybe 5 or 6 years old, and my family was at Grenada Lake in north Mississippi. Papaw, my mom’s father, enjoyed putting a line in the water and trying to get a nibble. Most of the time we thought we were going after some big old catfish. More often than not, when we did catch something, it was some sort of pan fish.
That particular day we were using live minnows for bait rather than worms.
I don’t remember if I caught anything that day or not, but I do have a rather unforgettable memory of the day that, seriously, had me fearful of something for the next 30 or 40 years.
It was around lunchtime when Papaw decided we should wrap things up and head back to his house in Greenwood, Miss. I volunteered to dump the unused live minnows back into the lake.
Just as I set the minnows free the biggest, meanest wasp I’ve ever encountered showed how big and mean it was, stinging me above my left eye.
Yes, I cried. Nobody ever claimed, “There’s no crying in fishing.” And even if they had, the rule would never apply to someone so young as I was back then.
My eye almost swelled shut, but the emotional damage was far greater than the physical pain.
Later that afternoon my parents and grandparents took the family to see a Yogi Bear feature cartoon at the local theater.
The best part of the movie was there were no wasps in the movie house and it was cool, soothing place.
My fear of flying, stinging insects has persisted much of my adult life.
When I’m not around bees, hornets or wasps I can joke about my irrational fear.
I was in a college psychology class and as the instructor talked about conditioned responses, wasps were banging against the window a few feet from where I sat. Believe me, I could relate to the Pavlov’s dog, and I didn’t need a laboratory to know a conditioned response is real.
It was no accident I didn’t become a beekeeper or someone who studies insects.
If the truth were told, I still cringe a little when one of those stinging suckers buzzes me.
But I still like to fish, and I still find comfort in an old Yogi Bear cartoon.
Randy Dickson is the News Bulletin Sports Editor. Contact him at 682-6524 or e-mail randyd@crestviewbulletin.com.
