Yeah, I've done these types of post before, way back before Bruno even came on board, but I'll have to confess, these fishing lures were not in my drawers, thank God, but in my basement. Click here for Drawers #1 and here for Drawers #2!
They were down there collecting dust, some rust, and some of the plastic lure skirts have begun to melt/deteriorate, causing a sticky mess in my tackle boxes. If it weren't so damn hot I might cool them off a bit in the lake, but it is and has been. So, they, like me, sit in the house only useful as reminders of the days when Judy and I used to fish.
We had a nice bass/ski boat in the early 80's that provided lots of entertainment for about 4 years, then, in the 5th year, I decided to sell it before the tires dry rotted! We had begun to look for excuses not to go to the lake; it's too hot, it's too cold, the winds blowing, or I think I heard thunder! So, for the last year it sat there, still requiring monthly insurance, until we found a buyer that was as happy as I was the first day I bought it.
They say "the two happiest days in a man's life is the day he buys a boat, and the day he sells it". It's true, I felt the same emotion the day it was pulled away as the day I backed it into my carport! Like most toys, they're just money pits.
We moved on to a "cement pond"...same thing applies...the day we moved from the pool was a glorious day. I could actually appreciate fall again. The pretty colored leaves did not fall into my pool and I was free - no opening, no closing, chemicals to balance! The exact thought I had when I agreed with Judy to buy our current home in '94...no more leaves to skim off!
It seems that our toy phases came and went in 5-year cycles. When grand kids came along, whelms for things of that sort seem to disappear, and I'm so glad. The only thing we tend to do in 5-year increments now is to buy a new car, and possibly sex!
So, last night I was rummaging through my cool (temp) basement, looking for something "cool" to do inside, and found the old tackle boxes, with lures, and my fishing rods and reels. I have to say, they brought back fond memories of days spent slowly working a plastic worm along the banks of Watts Bar, and its many islands, gently tugging on my line, listening to music ("catfish are jumping...black water keep rolling..."), sipping my favorite beverage, and talking to Judy.
But, back to the lures, look at all the pretty colors...how many can you name (lures not colors)...or own?!
A few of them are on eBay and worth more than I paid for them, but I'll probably never get rid of them...unless my son wants them. They just sit there, reminding me of the good 'ol days, collecting dust, and waiting for someone to either throw them away when I'm gone, or back in the water.
I like old things...mostly the old memories that go along with them...maybe that's why I like photography so much...memories preserved for a rainy day. That's why I would have such a hard time putting a price on my lures and all the other junk I've accumulated over the years. They're simply priceless!
3 comments:
Those old "bobbers" look like some I've inherited over the years...I have the wooden types, along with saltwater and freshwaterl rods and reels dating back to the 1940s and 50s...great stuff.
A lot of those look familiar. Your tackle box looks like Bobs.
I had that one, bottom right of the 4th picture, with the forward pointing metal fins. Lost it on something like the first cast in a weed and bass infested pond up in Ft. Worth, around 1987. I was pissed.
Treasures. It's amazing, all the money we invest in these things, just to let them get rusty (and sticky) in the garage/basement. My stuff is in similar shape. It'll all end up at a flea market some day. No one to inherit it.
But I can see you takin' those little girls down and showin' them how to use that gear. After all, they're Judy's granddaughters.
We had a pool just like that one in one of the houses we lived in in Ft. Worth. It was awesome the first summer, but like you say, cleanin' it became a huge nuisance. Didn't miss it when we moved. Got season tickets to the big water park in Arlington and went for a few hours one day a week. Let them keep it clean, and the scenery was better there anyway.
Though, there was the one time I found an unrolled condom in the lazy river.
MUSHY, my man, YOU have just explained---in one-third of the words it'd taken me!---the reason I stopped riding a "hawg", almost to this date, eleven years ago.
Well, the REAL-reason was, I couldn't tolerate the air-pressure against my chest/rib cage anymore, due to open-heart surgery.
And, like YOU, I was constantly making excuses NOT to ride, like: "Might rain." "Too-hot." "Too-cold." "Too-windy." "Too-late to start, now." I could go on and on.
Guess the REAL-reason was, I'd been hurt---though NOT by the bike---and I was starting to FORCE-myself to "Enjoy-it, dammit!"
I loved the exposure to sun/rain/hail/june-bugs---and even the occasional sleet-storm, on that rare-day in February, when it'd get up to almost 45-degrees!
Most of all, though: I loved the SOUND, the FEEL, of that acceleration!
Would still love ALL of the aforementioned, even at this-point in my life.
But, at the same-time, it's impossible to enjoy, if you have to FORCE-yourself to enjoy it...
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