New Day Rising

It's good to be home again, it really is.

THEBOY and I had a good trip to Matagorda and Lake Jackson.

Dad's rental place is right on the river, and since we made such good time getting down there Thursday we basically gained a day to enjoy ourselves. This would prove to be important later.

THEBOY took to the water like he's got salt in his veins. He is four years old, and standing there on the pier he'd cast out a good 40 feet, having had almost no instructions from me. He'd certainly never had his rod anywhere near the water before, and over and over he'd zing that line out there and turn the heads of everyone around. If there ever was a natural, let me tell you, that kid is one.

He was in constant motion, wanting to cast out or reel in all the time, or tend the crab traps, the crab cage or the bait traps with Papaw. At age four he doesn't have the patience for the Zen beauty of fishing (aka the waiting). But he did his own version of it hour after hour.

Papaw was quite aware of the significance of things like tying his first fishing lure for a grandson, that sort of thing. And to see him helping THEBOY reel in his first fish was a special moment for sure.

At sunset the wild pigs across the river would come to the water's edge, and we'd kick back and think about not much of anything.

We rode in Papaw's boat on the second day, and THEBOY loved that as well. Up and down the river we went, checking out the other boats and the shrimp trawlers.

***

Amanda was going to bring her son Aaron (also four) Saturday, but Mother Nature had other plans. We woke to incredible winds. Dad admitted he hadn't slept a wink; knowing that his boat was tied to the pier in the squall certainly couldn't have lent to a restful night.

After doing my best to help him re-tie and rearrange the boat, we decided no one would relax until the boat was out of the water altogether. Winds were hitting about 40 mph as Dad, cap backwards and fatigued beyond belief, steered the boat upriver a few miles to the ramp. I hopped in the truck to meet him there with the trailer.

For a stretch I could see him there as the road paralleled the river, and I considered hanging back to keep an eye on him. Then I decided it'd be better if I could zoom ahead and have the trailer in position before he arrived at the ramp.

If I'd stuck with him, I might have seen the boat nearly flip as he steered towards the center of the river to give a wide berth to some folks fishing off a pier. The north wind got under an edge of the boat, and up it went for a moment.

But he made it, and though it took some hustling on our part to keep the boat from careening into the pier and the trailer at the ramp, we finally got it secured.

***

What sort of masochists were out fishing in that awful weather anyway?

***

THEBOY and I improvised a new plan then, heading to Lake Jackson to see Amanda and Aaron so they wouldn't have to endure Matagorda's version of the Perfect Storm.

Dad finally went to sleep, rising refreshed after 3pm that day.

***

We met Amanda and Aaron for lunch, and those two boys were thick as thieves. We went to the park, and they were all over the place, climbing, sliding, swinging, and chasing the poor ducks.

This was at Shy Pond, a place I used to go sometimes for my lunch break nearly 20 years ago when I worked at the Brazos Mall. I enjoyed it, but geese lived in the pond, and for some reason they didn't like me. Those little bastards would start biting me, and you know, I eventually gave up on lunch breaks there.

From the park we went to Sonic for a root beer float. The boys sat in the back of the van, watching a movie while Amanda and I just enjoyed hanging out.

We went to her house for a while, where I got to visit little Maddie. What a doll! A rough and tumble little beauty who makes sounds like my own daughter. Made me miss my family back in Hurst even more.

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THEBOY and I stayed at Papaw's house in Angleton, empty since they were still on the river. This was THEBOY'S third different bed in three nights, and he was a trooper.

What Papaw doesn't know is that Sunday morning I hit the one-hour photo place the moment they opened so I could leave a set of the photos (http://photos.yahoo.com/briankelli3 in the "Fishing/LJ" folder) at his house for him as a gesture of thanks for everything.

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Came home Sunday. Driving in Houston sucks though. They closed 45 North and unceremoniously dumped us hapless drivers on 59 North with very little warning or guidance. I'm lucky I didn't end up in Cleveland (yes, Ohio...)

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THEBOY and I stopped for a burger in Madisonville, Texas. Gotta admit that I was a little concerned about wearing my Bad Brains I Against I t-shirt into the restaurant; I doubt Madisonville is much of an enlightened place.

I felt better when I bumped into a guy wearing a Husker Du New Day Rising t-shirt. "Ah, so you're not from here either..."

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Plenty afoot here, like some home improvement projects finally coming to fruition (now that I'm almost out of time off, of course), a likely move to Corsicana, and of course, obsessing over the mail for news from Texas Wesleyan.

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Congrats to Erik Hood, who hit the first home run of his life over the weekend. That's one more than I ever hit.

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And congrats to Toland, who started his new job today.

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Changes abound these days, eh?