That Sounds a Little Fishy To Me

teenage years

Gather 'round, 'cause I'm 'bout to tell you a story...a story that's true...a story of love...a story of deception...a story that...well...sounds a little fishy.

Today is my father's birthday; and, had he lived to see it, would have been his 88th. I enjoy telling you stories on my blog, but nobody came close to my father's storytelling abilities. He was truly gifted! God gave him something extra in this department...and my dad used his talents to the fullest.

Parts of my father's teachings are interwoven into everything I write on my blog. So, I won't go into a ramble about the myriad of different things I learned from him throughout the years. However, I will let you in on a little story that he had his hand in. Hopefully, I will be able to present this vignette in his honor and give credit to his talents through my writing. So here goes...


elementary school days

Angie and I met and fell in love rather quickly. It was a "God-thang" as us Southerners like to refer to it. In fact, we were engaged within six weeks of our first date. Angie, as many of you know, is a beach girl. She grew up at the beach, spent her summers at the beach, and will probably reside at the beach when she finally gets rid of me. hehe


on Iwo Jima - WWII

About a week after I gave her an engagement ring, she headed off to the beach for a week with a couple of her friends. Actually, the trip had been planned well before she and I knew one another. So, I wasn't upset that she wanted to leave me so soon. Until she left, though, I didn't realize how attached I was to her. The week seemed like an eternity...days dragged...minutes began to crawl...it was as if time was standing still. And...ladies and gentlemen...this was before mobile phones! I couldn't even call her until she was near a land-based phone. Did I mention that her plans were to spend one week at the beach and then go to Georgetown, South Carolina to visit her parents for an additional week? Two weeks from my honey bunny?!? Argggghhhhh!!! Honestly, as the first week dwindled down, I didn't think I was going to make it another day. My dad noticed me becoming more and more dejected around the house that week.


the Marine

I called my dad "Pa" for as long as I can remember...just like Opey on the Andy Griffith Show. During the 1960's, Pa actually looked a lot like Andy Griffith and I had auburn-colored hair and freckles. Go figure...??? (Am I the next Ron Howard? Yeah, in my dreams!) Over the course of four years or so, Pa and I had made it a habit to go eat lunch together at least one time per week. It eventually became a ritual; and we narrowed it down to meeting on Friday's at a place called Jim's Seafood on N 18th St. Jim's Seafood is no longer there, but let me tell you...they had some gooooood catfish. We even had our own waitress that took care of us everytime we entered the restaurant. He and I had some really great father-son conversations in that restaurant. I probably learned more from him during those lunches than I had in the previous 10 years. The reason...I was becoming more mature and more keenly interested in learning from this wise man. He was more than my dad...he was my hero.

Well, back to missing Angie. Since Pa noticed I was pining for my girl, he made sure that we didn't miss our scheduled lunch at Jim's. When I entered the restaurant, he was near the back, facing me. Now, I should have picked up that something wasn't right, then and there. Pa loved to be in the center of things. Y'know, the middle of the restaurant...middle of the conversation...the center of attention. It wasn't an egotistical issue...he just knew his God-given talents were better utilized when others were within easy listening range. But that day, he was in the back. Hmmmm......

When I sat down, he told me that he had already ordered our usual plates and Evonne would have 'em out shortly. We hadn't been there five or ten minutes before he pulled off his Rolex watch and asked me if I could fix it. I looked at it and didn't see anything wrong with it. I handed it back to him and he immediately shoved back in my open palm.

"Yeah, Pard, there's something wrong with it."

"No, Pa, I don't see anything. It's ticking just fine...the date is correct. What are you talking about?"

"There's something wrong with it."

Now, I was beginning to get a little perplexed. But, seeing that my dad always shot straight, I figured maybe something was going wrong with the watch. So, I held it tightly and watched it tick for a couple of minutes. Then...out of the corner of my eye...a figure sat down beside me...a beautifully tanned figure...with long, bronze legs. I swear...the first thought that came to my mind was "How am I going to explain this to Angie if someone sees me sitting next to this bronze goddess?" Then, after a second or two, I realized that the tanned lady was...my Angie. I hadn't seen her in a week and...with her golden tan...I didn't recognize her. I gave her a big kiss and turned to Pa, who was grinning ear to ear. He and Angie had planned this little charade during the week. Wiseguys!!! He was keeping my eye on the watch as Angie sneaked into the restaurant. Wow...that was a great lunch that day!

Angie left for South Carolina the following week and I went with her. I didn't want to lose sight of her again. As for me and Pa...we continued eating together for lunch...even after Angie and I got married. It did slow down, though. And eventually, Angie and I moved out of state for a few years and we had to close the chapter on our Friday lunches.


now you know where I got my gray beard

But today...since it was my father's birthday...Angie and I went to Catfish Charlies. We ate a mess o' catfish and we talked about both of our dads. It was good therapy for both us. We were both blessed with great fathers. And if there's one other thing I can offer you, take this advice...go to lunch with your mom or dad this week if they're available. You don't have to go for catfish, but do go. I promise you won't be disappointed. You might wind up filling in parts to a narrative that's yet to be written.