Growing up I always felt safe when I was with Uncle Willie. Whether sitting on the river bank with our fishing poles or floating on the river in one of Dad’s flat bottom boats I was never afraid with him around. I couldn’t swim a lick, and Mom was terrified of the river, but if I was with Uncle Willie, I could roam from one end of Yellow Hill Bottom to the other.
On summer days, as soon as our chores were done, we would head to the river bank with our poles. A can of worms could be filled quickly at the spot where the house drain emptied into the garden. We would sit for hours, intently watching our lines. The birds, frogs and dragonflies were our entertainment.
When I got a little older we were allowed to take Dad's flat-bottom boat out. We would pole it upriver to near the swinging bridge behind the Rasnicks. The water got too swift there for us to go any farther. We would then let the boat drift down to just above the shoals behind Aunt Virgie’s. There we would grab the long wooden poles we used to push the boat and pole back up to the swinging bridge to repeat the circuit.
Drifting downstream we would cast jitterbugs, spoons or spinner baits toward the shoreline trying to entice a bass to come out of hiding. We seldom caught anything but it was great fun anyway.
Clyde
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