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10 SOUTHERN SENIOR MAGAZINE | Summer 2021 Lures of Truth: Fishing with My Father By: Jamie McDonald The trees are reflected in the water, along with the azure blue of today’s sky. It is as if a perfect mirror image was skillfully painted upon the smooth surface of the pond. Sitting here on this perfectly perfect day, a feeling of sadness overwhelms me. My mind drifts to a time two years ago spent here with my father. It was exactly the same weather as is common this time of year for those of us fortunate to live in the South. The coolness off the day without high humidity was accompanied by a cloudless sky. My father and I were here in this very spot. I’m writing, sitting in his old Adirondack chair, moved here when we sold my parents’ home.Remembering this was the last time I fished with my Daddy, a familiar lump grew in my throat. Here at this pond, he was in what would be the last two weeks of his life. As his adoring middle daughter, his “MiniMe”, I knew the value of the day as I handed him one of my fishing poles. “Girl, I thought I taught you better than this, you have a salt water lure on here!” “ Oh sorry, Daddy, hadn’t changed that one to fresh water tackle yet. Don’t think I’ve used this pole since we last were on our bank fishing expedition, in lower Plaquemine parish. Do you remember that day?” I asked. Handing my 84 year old father another pole. I remember turning to wipe tears so he wouldn’t see. “You best pass that tackle box, too so your old Daddy can show you that I still got it.” He said. As I placed the tackle box on my father’s lap he grabbed my hand. I re­ member him tenderly pulling me close, hugging my arm tightly. “Don’t you try to hide those tears? Daddy knows everything, still.” He hugged me even tighter, continuing…”You certainly must know everyone in our big world has a day when they are born and then a day that our Lord calls them. Mine is close and it’s OK. I know this year will be extra hard on you. You will lose your Daddy and your husband in the same year.” “ No, Dad, don’t talk like this.” I said quietly. He interrupted, saying “Look at this place, all that our Lord created, how beautiful. The majesty of the trees, the ripples in the water, it takes my breath away. Look at the life our Maker gave meover 50 years with your beautiful mother. He gave me your sisters, you and a life of love. I have not led a perfect life, but tried every day to walk in truth and faith and raise you girls that way. I am so grateful for all the days like this that were spent with your sisters and you, especially in the boat with my fishing partner. I’m not afraid of death, my dear daughter, I know where I will go. Maybe just a little afraid of the dying part.” Tears were flow­ ing for us both. Just then the pole Daddy had quickly rigged and cast got a bite on the line. Hear­ ing my father, on oxy­ gen and in the end of Congestive Heart fail­ ure screaming as he did countless times in the past when I was a child fishing with him, made my heart feel so good. He caught what would be the first of six large­ mouth bass. We en­ joyed turkey sandwiches and talking more about life and death that memorable day. Cont. pg 12