From the desk of Dixie Rose:I must have been about ten years old that summer more years ago than I care to admit to when my dad took my brother and me to the river for an overnight fishing and camping trip. Not that it was much of a “trip” — the river was only nine miles east of our house. It wasn’t our first camping and fishing trip, either; we had been lots of times, but this trip was special, and the special part didn’t have anything to do with the fishing or the camping. I’m getting to the “special” part. When we went camping, it really didn’t consist of much preparation. We threw some old blankets and a pot and frying pan in the back of the pickup truck, grabbed our fishing gear, and we were all packed and ready to go. We would fish with cane poles and set trot lines that we would

“run” at night. It just didn’t require a lot of preparation. Our bait was worms or minnows that we seined on the river bank. Mom had packed a box up with a few essentials to keep us from starving to death over night and we were off.

 What a fun time that was! We fished with our cane poles and worms all day and late in the evening we would set the trot lines. Then we sat around the campfire and just talked about this and that until the next thing I would know, my dad would be shaking me awake to go run the lines.

Now here is the special part:

Remember to visit:

Very early the next morning, I watched through sleepy eyes as my dad made river coffee. He dipped water out of the river in a pot. Then he boiled the water over the campfire. He poured some coffee grounds into the pot of very hot water and let it just sit there for a few minutes, then he poured a tiny bit of cold water into the pot. Man! Did that ever smell good!

He saw me watching him and he told me to get a cup of river coffee for myself! Wow! That meant that I was a MAN! Yes indeed, that was a most memorable fishing trip.