…that “Ole Tackel Box”…

Growin’ up in my Grandparents home was a wonderful place to live. From a childs prespective, I didn’t know why I was/we were there only that we were.My Mother, brother & I shared a bedroom, & Mama & Papa had the other. Evenin’s were Supper usually at 5:00 p.m. After Supper Papa adjourned to the living room to read the Paper, watch the News, & Tinker in his “Ole Tackle Box”. I remember before I was old enough to go fishin’ with him I was mesmerized  by all of the little “Fish Toys” he had. I was probably 4 to 5 years old. There was usually one TV show we were allowed to watch & then Bath time. I always wanted to go 1st, before my brother. I could get done & go watch Papa tinker with his stuff. I would always inch my way nearer & usually get told to “get away Boy before you get a Hook in you”!. Yes sir I’d reply and move down the sofa a couple of feet. Then start my migration toward that “Ole Tackle Box” again. Finally one night Papa said “come’er Boy, get around here in my lap”. This had NEVER happened before. I did as I was told to. I eased around the end of the coffee table, the foot stool, & reached the edge of that “Ole Tackle Box”. Papa grasped my arm, and said “now don’t fall in there, I got it all arranged”!. Yes sir I said tremblin’, I’d never been this close to Papa’s stuff. He would pick up a plug and tell me their names. This is a PawPaw & tell me about it. “Now be careful of those sharp hook” he’d say. And they were, he kept them filed to a sharp point! Then another one, this is a Talkin’ Plug, this is a Hulla Popper, a Jitter Bug, a Hell Raiser – “JOHN”! Mama chimed in – Ok, Ok, this is a Sonic,  these are worms, etc. That evenin’ the phone rang, Mother answered it “Daddy, she called out to Papa, it’s for you. Papa lifted me from his lap & out of his way, he stepped over that “Ole Tackle Box” an on out of the room he went. There I was, right there by myself with that “Ole Tackle Box”. I was lookin at everything, Mama said “Billy leave Papa’s Box alone” yes Ma’am. It seemed like 30 minutes went by as I admired everything in that box, that I could see. Actually it was only a moment or two had gone by, I heard Papa say “Ok, I’ll be ready, By”!  I heard him returnin’ he said “Cleo, Porter’ll be here @ 9:00 p.m. That meant him & Uncle Porter were goin’ fishin’ tonight. He stepped back over that “Ole Tackle Box” & told me I had to move so he could pack it up. I turned to get out of his way, lost my balance and stepped right in the middle of the upper rack of that “Ole Tackel Box”. I let a {{{{{ “Blood Curdlin’ Scream” ! }}}}}. Papa snatched me up with half his lures danglin’ from my right bare foot, & some danglin’ from my pajama pants. I could hear Mother comin’ from the Dinnin’ Room, Mama had jumped up & headed toward Papa & me, me screamin’ & cryin’ & a string of words I’d never heard before commin’ outa Papa! I kinda lost track there for a few minutes, mother had me lyin’ on the floor, no more lures hangin’ from my pajamas, but my foot was free bleedin’ by now, or so it seemed to me. Papa still standin’ there with that string of words gettin’ longer, Mother tellin’ me to calm down it’s gonna be Ok, Mama tellin’ Papa “John! John”! it was an accident, hell, he didn’t care, it was his Fishin’ Tackle!. My brother came runnin from the tub, Mother told him to go back & get dressed. Things were calmin’ down, Mother said “Daddy, I need your cutters”! “No! No! Your not cuttin” my hooks”! Well, Papa keeled down there & took charge. “Frances you hold that Boy, Cleo, get me some Turpentine (that was a medical cure all in those days) & clean rags, he looked at me & said Boy you be still, we gonna to get these hooks outta you & it’s gonna HURT! I don’t need you kickin’ & squirmin’ about, YOU HEAR ME”! Yes sir, worked it’s way thru my cryin’ & sobbin’. He came at me with those Needle Nose Pliers & Side Cutters. “Cleo, pour some of Turpentine on the boys foot, it’ll lube it up for’em hooks. Well when the {{{{ Screamin’ Stopped }}}}} from the dousin’ of Turpentine he went to pulin’ & jerkin’. I don’t know how many hooks he took out, but there were two that just wouldn’t come out. “Cleo, get me a razor blade”! I started screamin’ again, Mother tryin’ to calm me down tellin’ me wasn’t goin’ to cut my foot off. After all the trimmin’ was done one finally worked out, one left. “Frances, you hold that boy still! Boy, now this is gonna HURT, he said again, but you hold still”! Yes sir. A quick push, a loud {{{ SNAP }}}, & it was all over. He showed me the last one where he has pushed it thru the meat & skin of my foot & cut it with his side cutters. It was bleedin’ again by now, another dousin’ of Turpentine, & “Cleo, wrap that Boy’s foot up, he’ll be Ok”! I don’t remember much after that. The next mornin’ it was sore, but not what I was expectin’. I was told the Turpentine took a lot of the soreness out of it. The next day some gauze & tape & I was back at it. It was a long time before I got near that “Ole Tackle Box” again I do remember that…Hold’em Hook”!…..BG>  

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2 thoughts on “…that “Ole Tackel Box”…

  1. Oh. My. Lord. Ohhhhhh the pain! I just want to swoop that little boy up and smack his gpa! I know he loved you, and that you loved him. It’s such a well told story that I could feel your pain, and I found myself angry at you papa. Our oldest got a trout hook stuck in his leg below his calf muscle. It was in too deep to cut it so I had his dad hold him while I yanked. That noise is something isn’t it?!? Yuck! Anyway…I think this is probably the best written yet! Such s joy to read these 😊

    Liked by 1 person

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