I believe that I mentioned my great-grandfather's love of fishing in a previous post. I also spoke of spending time at Bummie and Bumpie's most Sundays, but our family were frequent visitors. Not that we were a real close-knit family or anything like that. Visiting family was simply the culturally accepted norm. Potluck dinners, impromptu picnics and birthdays were standard gathering times for us all.
Life in small-town America was both good and bad. As so often happens in rural towns not every technological and cultural trend had caught up with the population. Not everyone owned televisions. Telephones still had "party" lines. Computers wouldn't become popular (affordable) to the general public until the 1980s. Most people didn't lock their doors - AT ALL. Children played together or alone outside until called in for dinner or it got too dark to see. Times were simpler then.
Sometime right around 1964, my great-grandfather came chuckling up to the house on Ellison Avenue. Fishing pole in hand and a funny story on his lips. The fishing pole was left on the porch and he quickly whispered in Bummie's ear when he came inside.
True to the axiom "children were meant to be seen and not heard", Debbie and I were summarily dismissed to play in the basement. We would have been about five (Debbie) and seven (me) years old. I'm sure we had no idea what the 'grown-ups' were talking about. You might not either if I don't explain a few things.
Yes, times were definitely simpler then. But people were also less tolerant of diversity. Quite frankly people were more likely to be racist. My family was no exception. The 'n-word' was bandied about freely and Bummie was known to get up and change the television channel if a black person was shown. Other words were used to label and pigeonhole people.
One of the labels that still persists is 'flatlander'. "What in the world is a flatlander?", you ask. Well. You might think that label belongs to someone uneducated (the world is flat). That may be the implication, but it's really a derogatory term used to describe someone from lower elevations. The connotation being that they were somehow less capable than us country-folk.
Another little factoid that will be useful later on in this story is that there was no EPA back in those days.It wasn't founded until 1970.
I can only imagine how the conversation must have gone, but the story became part of our family history. Here's my rendition of the incident.
It seems that Bumpie had been down at the Allegheny River fishing for the better part of the morning. Fishing is like that, you know. It's easy to lose track of time listening to the gurgling water and insects buzzing round about. Watching the clouds float across the sky and sunlight sparkle off the river. Thinking deep thoughts like "should I change to a spinner or will this corn be good enough bait?". Back then the Allegheny was stocked by the Pennsylvania Fish and Game Commission several times a year.
I don't know if it was luck, skill or a little of both, but he had one nice brown trout in his creel and was taking a second off his hook and getting ready to throw it back in the water when a stranger passing by saw what he was ready to do.
"Excuse me, sir", I imagine the stranger saying. "Are you really going to throw that fish back?"
I can picture Bumpie looking this stranger up and down. Here he was - all decked out in new fishing vest and hat. New waders. New equipment. Bumpie sized up the stranger and one thought must have been in the forefront of his brain: flatlander.
Bumpie told him that 'yes, indeed I was going to throw it back'. A conversation ensued and Bumpie handed over the fish, wished the stranger well and headed back to his house with a smile on his face.
What he neglected to tell the stranger was what he was in such a hurry to relay to the grown-ups at home. When he opened the mouth of the trout to retrieve his hook, a turd fell out.
EWWWW.
At least that's the way I remember it being told. Y'all feel free to jump in and correct me on any or all of this story.
I leave you with this quote from William Shakespeare
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
If you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.”
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