Whitesburg KY
Partly cloudy
Partly cloudy
32°F
 

Something ‘fishy’ going on

Points East


First let me say for anyone in the free world who has not been previously informed that grandson number four, Tyler Kane Ochs, made the scene last Thursday morning.

He weighed in at seven pounds and nine ounces. Mama, Jennifer, had a much tougher time of it than she had anticipated but both mother and grandson are fine now.

I spent Sunday fishing with some old friends but Tyler was not allowed to tag along. And to be honest, the sun was brutally hot on Sunday and the fishing less exciting than it might have been so he probably wouldn’t have enjoyed himself very much anyway.

Old friend and former roommate, Jeff Brenzel, and relatively new friend over the last 12 years, Bob Kennedy, with whom I became acquainted through Jeff, visited for two and a half days. Brenzel and Kennedy are trying to see how many miles they can put on a Chrysler mini-van over the course of two weeks. Said mini van is stuffed with camping equipment, fishing tackle, bird watching stuff and has two monstrous ocean kayaks strapped to the top. It gives the appearance that the occupants are on thier way to northern Alaska where they will hunt seals and whales.

Jeff is Dean of Admissions at Yale and Bob teaches science at The Severn School, a prestigious college prep institution located in Severna, Maryland. They have been pals since they were undergrads together at Yale many, many years ago.

Late this week their wives are flying from the east coast to Nashville where Bob and Jeff will pick them up for a few days in the Kentucky Lake vicinity and then drive back home. I don’t know Bob’s wife but I do know Sally Brenzel and even though she is a trooper I simply can’t see her spending 1,200 miles back to Connecticut in the backseat of that van.

Sally is not at all apt to be embarrassed by the roof-top cargo but I have pulled a trick I learned from the movie, “Grumpy Old Men.” There is a dead bluegill in the rear of the van and it should be getting pretty ripe when the guys pull into the Nashville airport later on this week. .

I’m seriously doubting that the guys will have another chance to shower before the rendezvous so they probably won’t notice the smell. They did leave my place all cleaned up before they hit the road on Monday afternoon but three more days without a bath in this kind of weather and they are going to be more or less like Grizzly Adams. They already look like real mountain men so they soon should smell the part.

Anyway, I’d pay big dollars to see the look on Sal’s face when she gets in the van. And I do so hope that the women are traveling light. There’s not much room for any additional luggage.

My neighbors aren’t very nosy. As I said the van stayed parked in my driveway for the better part of three days and not a single person stopped by to inquire about what on earth was strapped to the top of it. Nobody even called while the guys were here but I will say this, had the van been in one of their driveways, Loretta and I would have been doing some very powerful speculation and it would not have been very private.

They guys hadn’t been gone for more than a hour when my phone range and a neighbor finally called to ask about my houseguests and of course, to get some satisfaction in regards to the kayaks.

I explained the circumstances including the fact that they were headed west.

She said to me, “They sure do sound like some pretty smart fellers but why hasn’t somebody told them the ocean is in the other direction?”

I told her that we were too busy solving the problems of Habitat for Humanity and two very prestigious educational institutions to talk much about anything else. In the process we’d sung a lot of John Prine, Steve Earle, Merle Haggard and Bob Dylan and we’d somehow managed to catch enough bass and big blue gill to feed five hungry adults twice and still have leftovers for the cat.

At last count, Bob had caught six keeper bass, a feat he said he hadn’t accomplished since back in the eighties. Which is to say that while I didn’t consider the fishing to be nearly as good as I had hoped for, everything is relevant and I simply wasn’t coming from the same perspective as my buddies.

The four or so inches of rain that fell here last Friday forced us to change plans to spend two days wading Paint Lick and Silver Creeks from which Jeff and I used to fetch our smallmouth bass dinners, but the fish in Maywoods and Ralph King’s pond cooperated sufficiently for us to call the line wetting successful. Now that I think about it, we might have gotten some sport out of the kayaks on the creeks.

Now that I think about is some more; Nahhhhhhhhhhh. Probably not, but if we’d launched them under the bridge in downtown Paint Lick people would have had something to talk about for the rest of the summer. And if the bluegill under the back seat makes it to Nashville, so will Sally Brenzel.


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