Calling Panther
New Lake Opened March 22
A few months ago, Jim Hess of Vicksburg told
me that he and Gordon Sansing of Forest, MS, were planning a fishing outing
for May 2, 2006. For a number of years, Jim, Gordon, and Lee Gordon, plus
me tried to work out a spring fishing date for the four of us. In some years,
all four of us made the trip, but on a few occasions, one of our number was
missing from the foursome. We've had some great bass fishing trips and a
few not so great, but regardless of the fish count, we've always had a great
time.
I don't know how it happened, but this year May arrived sooner than I expected.
In fact, last Thursday, I scheduled myself to help a retailer the following
Tuesday, completely unaware that Tuesday was the day of the fishing trip.
In my mind, April still had another week in the month. Fortunately, I was
able to reschedule my visit with the retailer for Monday in order to make
the fishing trip on Tuesday.
"So, where is it we're going?" I asked Jim, in our phone conversation.
"Some lake near Crystal Springs," Jim shared. "It's a public lake that's
just opened and the fishing has been quite good. I think Gordon said it's
about five hundred acres."
The retailer I had committed to helping was one in Clinton, MS, so I wasn't
very far from Vicksburg when I completed my day. I drove to the First Baptist
Church in Vicksburg and found Jim Hess about ready to leave to pick up his
outboard motor from the service center of a local marine dealer. After getting
the motor, we drove to Jim's home, which is eleven miles out of town.
Upon unloading my overnight bag, I began to notice a few of the many changes
around the house. Jim busied himself getting our supper started, as Sheila
was still in Vicksburg with a piano student. The Hesses' daughter, Dawn,
I learned, was in St. Joseph, LA, practicing with an orchestra. Dawn and
a couple of other musicians practice once a week. Dawn later told me she
is now the first chair clarinetist for the orchestra.
While supper was heating, Jim showed me some of the work he had done on the
outside of the house. Vinyl siding was added to the soffits and gables, a
walkway had been poured leading from the driveway to the patio behind the
house, replacing the stepping stones. Jim had earlier asked me to park on
the recently constructed concrete pad that extended the original driveway
another dozen or so feet. Jim proudly pointed out a new overhead door for
the garage, something that I took for granted as a replacement, but in fact
it was the first to be installed, as there was no garage door on the house.
Back in the kitchen area Jim and I were chatting about our fishing plans
for Tuesday, when I noticed the ceramic countertops.
"Are these new?" I asked.
"Yes, and the floor is too," Jim explained.
"Did y'all do the work?"
"Oh, no! Though, I thought about tackling the tile work, after seeing it
being installed, I'm glad I didn't. No, we hired someone to do that for us."
There were probably other changes that I missed, but I did notice the walls
in the kitchen and dining area were a different color.
Sheila arrived about the time our meal was ready, and she put all the food
on the table and made some tea. She also brewed a pot of coffee for us to
have with our scrumptious dessert, an Italian Cream cake. We had hardly finished
eating and gotten the table cleaned off when Sheila disappeared outside,
only to return and ask Jim to check on a possible water leak in the front
yard. While Jim was investigating the water situation, Sheila busied herself
raking leaves and twigs that had blown off the trees over the weekend during
a storm.
"Won't your lawnmower chop up that debris?" I asked Jim.
"Yeah, but Sheila can't wait on me to cut the grass again, so she's raking
it up."
"I need to get a picture of this," I laughed, "So, I can show Barbara that
it's okay for a woman to work in the yard."
I did make a few pictures, but they didn't turn out as I had hoped, so I
deleted them from my camera without Barbara seeing them.
Jim, Sheila, and I sat in the den and talked almost until morning. We had
a lot to talk about, as Jim has accepted a new position in the church. Jim
will be the Associate Pastor and Minister of Senior Adults. The church has
solicited an interim Minister of Music until a search committee can secure
a new Minister of Music. Jim and I think a lot alike when it comes to church
music. We both prefer hymns and a traditional worship service. However, having
struggled with some church members and a pastor or two who lean toward
non-traditional worship, Jim decided a change in his Ministry would be good
for all concerned and seems genuinely happy with his decision.
Sheila is not as happy as Jim with Jim's new position, as it will mean that
for the first time in their thirty-five year career, she won't be playing
the piano or organ while her husband leads the music. Sheila is currently
the church organist. She is apprehensive about playing under the direction
of a new Minister of Music, but I'm certain she will have the "new guy" trained
in short order, once he arrives.
I slept as well as one can expect to sleep away from home. I awoke at four-thirty
Tuesday morning, well before the time I programmed the alarm on my cell phone
to awaken me. When I heard Jim stirring in the kitchen, shortly before five
o'clock, I got up and dressed for breakfast. By six o'clock, Jim and I were
on our way to meet Gordon in Crystal Springs.
Just off the I-55 Crystal Springs exit, we pulled onto the parking lot of
a convenience store, that, judging by the traffic, was a popular spot to
run in and grab a bite of breakfast to go. Gordon soon arrived bringing his
aluminum boat in the bed of his pickup truck. After exchanging warm, brotherly
greetings with each other, we moved onto the serious subject of fishing.
"Here are the directions to the lake," Gordon stated, producing a sheet of
paper from the front seat of his pickup.
It was then I learned the name of the lake was Calling Panther, which prompted
me to ask, "They got panthers around here?"
"Yeah, they do," my friends chimed, though I didn't believe either of them.
The directions took us about eleven miles and five or more turns outside
of Crystal Springs, but I think we could have found the lake without the
written directions, because the roads were well signed pointing us to Calling
Panther Lake.
By the time we got the motor attached to the boat and all our fishing gear
aboard, a game warden showed up. He didn't check our licenses, but we talked
to him about the best places to catch bass in the new lake.
"I'd say you'd be better off in the shallow water at the upper end," he shared,
pointing to a couple of inlets on a map. "There's a lot of brush and trees,
so look for it to be a lot like rabbit hunting with a rabbit in every brush
pile."
On a good day, his analogy might have been accurate, but the day we fished,
we had trouble flushing any rabbits. We fished long and hard and had almost
nothing to show for our efforts. By noon, Gordon had caught one small bass,
and I had been fortunate to get two bass inside the boat. One of my bass
weighed between three and four pounds, but because it fit into the slot of
fish between 16 and 22 inches, we were obliged to return it to the lake.
In the late afternoon, Jim caught a small bass, bringing our take-home total
to three, which is not much for an all day fishing trip.
I was disappointed that we didn't catch more fish. I believe we all expected
to do better, but some fishing days are just days of struggle. Anyway, I
agree with the adage, "A bad day fishing is better than a good day at work."
One guy, who showed up at the same time we were putting in and also left
at the same time we left, said he didn't catch a fish all day. However, he
did not try top-water baits and that's what we had used successfully, when
plastic worm, spinner baits, and crank baits failed to do the job.
It was late afternoon when we loaded our fishing gear, boat, and motor back
into our respective vehicles with Jim and I saying goodbye to Gordon and
wishing him a safe return to Forest. Jim and I returned to Vicksburg around
seven o'clock. I was nearly exhausted and somewhat dehydrated from the day
in the boat, but I chose to drive back to Pontotoc rather than stay a second
night in Vicksburg.
Calling Panther Lake is certain to be a popular lake for fishermen, and if
it's managed well and not over-fished, it will likely provide great sport-fishing
for years to come. While I don't expect to go back there this year, I won't
rule out the possibility of a trip there next year.
Church
Program In The Gym At Belmont
It was last Friday, I believe, that Barbara told me that Rayanne had asked
if we'd be interested in going to Belmont Sunday evening for an evening of
singing at the church and the opportunity to hear her and the church pianist
play a piano duet. I didn't commit to going, at the time, but I remember
thinking I would enjoy the evening. I should make a note for myself as a
reminder to ask for more details in the future.
Rayanne is part of a group of talented pianists who will be performing for
the Pontotoc Music Study Club at First Baptist Church on the afternoon of
May 13th. She and about ten other musicians, under the tutelage
of Patricia Henry, have been practicing regularly at Patricia's home, usually
on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon. Since Rayanne had a scheduled practice
last Sunday she enlisted Barbara and me as babysitters. Anson brought Rayanne,
Merilese, and Katherine to our house shortly before two o'clock. He had to
be at work in Tupelo at three o'clock, so Rayanne needed us to take her and
her two girls back to Belmont.
Rayanne needed to be at a choir rehearsal in Belmont at 4:30, but we missed
that deadline by almost fifteen minutes. After I let everyone out, parked
the car, and got inside the building, it was almost five o'clock.
Rayanne had told us that another church choir was joining their choir, and
she may have mentioned the program was to be in the gym, but I missed that
detail until I got to the church. However, I was aware that, besides the
choir program, there would be a concert following the choirs, but I didn't
know who or what group had the concert.
Acoustics in a gymnasium are typically less desirable than those of a sanctuary.
The Belmont gym is no exception. A single electronic keyboard, played several
decibels above my comfort level, accompanied the combined choirs. The keyboard
was loud enough to obliterate my hopes of understanding the words to the
songs the choirs sang.
The congregation got to sing a few songs from the hymnal, and they were standards
that I already knew. However, the music being played didn't match the notes
in the hymnal, so I was left on my own to find the bass part. I'm pretty
sure the Lord was the only one in the room who heard me, as I had trouble
hearing myself.
Rayanne and Georgia's piano duet sounded great to me. After an intermission
the choir members moved into the congregational seating, and Rayanne sat
beside me. Merilese and Katherine soon joined us.
Prior to the concert, two men sang solos. Each had an excellent voice, and
while I don't remember the songs they sang, I was familiar with some of them.
The local pastor introduced the featured singer/ speaker for the evening.
The man had previously sung for the group Shenandoah, but had become an
evangelist after a salvation experience.
Marty Raybon was indeed a gifted singer and guitarist. His style of music
is Bluegrass Gospel. I enjoyed his guitar music as much or more so than the
songs he sang, as he held my attention with different fingering and picking
techniques and at times produced a sound as though two or more guitars were
being played. After he had played for thirty minutes, he laid his guitar
aside and began to share his testimony. At the end of his sharing, he began
a lengthy invitation for the unsaved to receive Christ as Savior.
I don't fault any preacher or evangelist for urging others to experience
salvation, but there are times when their protracted efforts border on the
absurd. I'm a time conscious individual, but I failed to time the invitation,
though it seemed to have lasted about thirty minutes. I was about ready to
get saved again, just so he'd let us all go home.
It was ten minutes before eight o'clock when the singing and preaching meeting
concluded. I found it remarkable that the simple program I had envisioned
had lasted a full three hours. Barbara and I elected to return to Pontotoc,
rather than attend the time of fellowship and food that followed.
I'm sure, we'll be back in Belmont in the near future to hear our daughter
play or sing in a church program, and I'm letting her know in advance that
I want more details, in order to make a more informed decision.
Bodock Beau
Someone's Unger There
Here are four short jokes. We hope that at least one of them will put a smile
on your face.
Someone’s Under There
Little Johnny was in his bedroom playing with his toy fire truck when his
mother walked in. "Mom, doesn’t it say in the Bible that man was made
out of dust?" he asked.
"Yes," replied his mom.
"Is it also true that when we die, we go back to dust?" he inquired.
"Yes," said his mom again. "Why do you ask?"
"Because I was looking under the bed," Johnny answered, "and there’s
someone under there either coming or going."
He’s Just Horsing Around
A city slicker was driving on a country road when his car broke
down.
While he was under the hood trying to fix the problem, he heard a low voice
say, "It’s the fuel pump."
The fellow looked around, but only saw
an old horse in the nearby pasture.
As he put his head under the hood, he again heard the voice, "I said, it’s
the fuel pump."
He turned to the horse and asked, "Was that you?"
"Yes," the horse answered. "I told you to check the fuel pump."
Stunned, the man ran to the nearby farmhouse and asked the farmer if that
was his horse.
When the farmer answered yes, the city slicker said, "That horse could be
worth a fortune."
The fellow related how the horse told him to check his fuel pump.
The farmer shook his head and said, "Don’t pay any attention to him.
He doesn’t know anything about automobiles."
They’re Scared Silly
Two little boys were bragging on their grandfathers.
"My grandpa made a scarecrow so fierce that it frightened every single crow
off the place," boasted Alfred.
"You think that’s something," retorted Archie. "You should have seen
the scarecrow my grandpa made. It was so fearsome that the crows
brought back all the corn they stole last year!"
Help Is on the Way
As both engines of the small plane started smoking, the pilot grabbed a parachute
and headed toward the door.
His departing words were, "Don’t worry about a thing, folks—I’m
going for help."
From Laugh Letter Newsletter April 2006
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