Outdoor Adventures
Phil Taunton
Originally published 02:09 p.m., June 13, 2008
Updated 02:10 p.m., June 13, 2008
The note on the refrigerator door was dated Aug. 20, 1995, and had to do with regulations concerning how the family cabin at Council Grove was to be run since my father passed away less than a month earlier.
No. 1 had to do with no work being done — don’t even think about getting the truck unloaded and things put away — until hooks are baited and lures cast to proven, time-tested “honey holes” around docks, stumps, rock piles and brush.
I just couldn’t understand how Pop spent half the day down at the lake and not even wet a line. More than once he told me he had to take the poles out of the water because the fish were so active he just couldn’t get any work done and enjoy all the “other things” that being outside had to offer.
Other things? Was he serious?
A work ethic that included being out in the sun all day picking purple-hulled peas for less than a quarter an hour and coming from a large family that depended on everyone doing their fair share just to get by can do strange things to a fellow.
No. 2 on the list was to secure bait and catch small sunfish for night fishing, especially if I was going to make it down later. I just couldn’t stand the thought of a big old catfish prowling around the dock and there not being a juicy tidbit of some sort enticing it to bite and into the frying pan!
Chore No. 3, and only if the fish weren’t biting, was to mow the lawn in front of the cabin. We do need to keep a respectable appearance. Remember to roll up the garden hoses and try to keep the riding lawnmower from bouncing off the trees and the corner of the cabin.
Pop got a kick out of watching the grandkids “learn to drive.” The back of our lot at the lake had long been declared a “wildlife habitat area” ever since the day he and I ran our pointing dogs, Mert and Jackson, over hill and dale only to find more than 30 quail in an unmowed oasis of tall grass behind the cabin upon our return.
I don’t know who jumped the highest when they exploded under our feet, him or me!
Wildflowers are starting to get a hold now. Black-eyed Susans, purple coneflowers, spiderwort and various sunflowers, all interlaced with Mother’s favorite, Queen Anne’s lace, with its delicate white, frost-pattern blossoms.
Rule No. 4: absolutely no “wimp coffee.” Five scoops of coffee to about 10 cups of water should about do it, although I think he made his a little stronger.
As time went on, I found it increasingly hard to return to our beloved “wilderness” retreat because the man who introduced me to the wonders of nature, who taught me about hunting and fishing and presented me with my first sporting firearm and dog to go with it, was no longer with us. His loss was just too painful to bear, and no way did I realize how much I cherished his company.
I guess some things we just take for granted.
Having fought in World War II, Dad also taught me the horrors of war was a necessary evil needed to preserve our freedom. A lot of good men and women made supreme sacrifices in order for us to enjoy the liberties we have today. Their sacrifice makes it possible for us to relax for a weekend at the Lake, take in a baseball game or be on a golf course — freedom to do whatever suits our fancy.
The flag, “God Bless America” and the Pledge of Allegiance were never to be taken lightly.
Dad’s presence lingered everywhere — in the boat, on the water, up in the garden, down at the dock, Easter egg hunts with the kids, working and laughing. The memories of our outdoor experiences will be a part of me and the cabin forever.
To this day, I still catch a glimpse of a nonexistent roaster of fried chicken on the stove in the kitchen of the cabin. A pan so full the lid wouldn’t fit would always await my arrival. Dad and I loved chicken. His chicken, bread and butter sandwiches, fried okra, cold sliced tomatoes and fresh green onions from the garden made a meal fit for a king, the lake being our kingdom.
I never gave it much thought on how early he had to get up and commence frying all that chicken.
Closure is something I don’t think I’m fully capable of understanding. Maybe I’m not supposed to.
Some years ago when I shut the cabin up for the winter — a ritual he and I shared for years — I entertained the thought of selling out. Dad had just passed away, and the bewilderment I felt at his not being there ever again was just too much to bear. My spirits were low and dull as the melancholy song of the Harris sparrow that cold, gray and dreary day.
Something happened the following spring that gave me strength, a form of spiritual rejuvenation, I guess. Seeing my rambunctious 7-year-old niece catch fish and answering to her inquisitive imagination concerning our outdoor world probably had as much to do with making this decision as anything.
And now, my grandkids are sharing the same rowboat in which he, I and my daughters spent so many enjoyable hours.
Dad has been gone for 13 years now and, believe it or not, I think I learned what some of those “other things” in life are. A big part of my “lake time” now is spent just watching the birds, puttering around the place with the dogs, relaxing and finding solace in having been blessed with such a wonderful family, father and friend.
Dad, Happy Father’s Day. My thoughts will be with you come Sunday.
Take a child fishing
and create memories
There will be a 24-hour Fishing Derby at New Strawn, 11 miles south of Jct. I-35 & Highway 75, today and Saturday, starting at 3 p.m. today.
A free kids’ Fishing Derby will be held Saturday for three age groups and Kansas Fish and Wildlife officers will be on hand to present a short seminar to instruct anglers new to the sport of fishing.
For more information contact Gary Otta, 913-620-5241.