The Storm of the Century – Part 2 October 7, 2009

The tide continued to rise. My mom went into crisis management mode. She had my old brother swim into our back yard to salvage some fire wood (the electricity had gone out, and it was expected to be a cold evening). All of the hot dogs and hamburgers, which were intended for my party guests, were sent to the Baptist church down the road. We sent a boat (yes a boat) across the street to pick-up family members who lived in my neighborhood. The first trip brought my grandmother, my aunt (who was a teenager at the time), and my aunt’s friend who had spent the night. I watched as they steered the boat through my front yard, hitting a great oak tree in the process. The boat driver dropped everyone off at my front porch, and then went to get my great-grandmother.

I love my great-grandmother, but she was a stubborn woman. Even though there was water in her house, she was admittedly opposed to getting into the boat which would take her to higher ground (my house). Although she lived her whole life in Florida, she never learned how to swim and was deathly afraid of the water. He was eventually able to get her into the boat, Lord knows how. So she was able to join the rest of the family at my house.

My grandfather has many, many hunting dogs that he keeps fenced in down the road. One of the dogs had given birth to a litter of puppies not long before the storm. By the time he got to the Dog Pin (what we call the fenced in area), all but one of the puppies had died. My grandfather brought the lone survivor to my house. We named him Stormy, and he grew-up to be the best hunting dog ever.

Snoopy and Shark – Part 2 October 7, 2009

With my new toy fishing pole on board, my father, brother, mother, and I  all set off to have a great family outing. We loaded our boat onto the Homosassa River Boat Ramp, and then made our way out to the Gulf of Mexico.  

We dropped anchor somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico. There wasn’t another boat insight. My dad baited my hook, and showed me how to cast a fishing pole. Then I waited. And waited. And waited.

Finally, I felt a tug and saw that little orange ball go under the water. I began to reel the line in vigorously. I knew I must have caught a big one. My father watched me closely. At one point he had to help me reel-in my catch. He began pulling up the line, hand over fist. When the fish was finally out of the water, we saw that it wasn’t a fish at all, but a small (3-4ft) shark.

Needless to say, my dad cut the line and I watched my first catch swim away. However, my dad never doubted my choice of fishing poles again.