Pool Creek

A five year old just has just so much patience, and mine was gone! My Dad, John H. Bryan, had told me that he was taking me fishing for the first time that afternoon and we were going to Pool Creek. The creek was on the north end of Grand Ma Bryan’s farm on Rock Dam Road, northwest of Marlin, Texas, and to me, at the time, was a wild and wooly place!

Finally, my Dad said, “Let’s go!” And, me, my cousin Dan Gafford and Prentiss Norwood, a black friend and my Grand Ma’s neighbor, lined up and my Dad led off. Dan was 4 and Prentiss and me were 5, big boys.

Using shortened cane poles, a bobber and garden worms on the hook we “loaded up” on the Sunfish, popped them into a toe sack and headed home for a fish fry! I distinctly remember the feeling when my cork went under and there was a tug on the line from something that I had hooked. What a feeling, what a thrill, and it has never changed!

With us helping, my Dad cleaned the fish, my Grand Ma fried them and my Mom coached us on how to eat them and not get any bones, saying that we could choke. We knew that was bad so we paid attention to her. I went to bed happy that night and wondered when was the next time Daddy would take me fishing.

I even thought about sneaking away and catching some by myself!