The Bassmaster Classic Tournament of 2016 brought world competition and fevered fishing excitement to our Sooner state. It seemed appropriate to post these vintage photos since March 13 is the birthday of my grandfather, Calvin Callcayah Smith.
Grandpa and Fishing and More
 |
| Angie proudly holding the reel Grandpa used to catch the wide-mouth bass he had caught on their fishing trip. She wasn't big enough to hold the bass or she would have! |
Both of my grandmothers would choose a day of fishing over shopping any time. Grandma Smith relied heavily on the moon’s phases or “signs.” She based her angling on this information as it appeared in The Farmer’s Almanac. In contrast, no one ever knew what affected his fishing excursions, since Grandpa was a man who spoke few words.
Even though my
parents, my sister, and I always lived in the same home with my maternal
grandparents, a day could pass with hardly any words spoken between my grandpa and me. My
cousin, Ron Bledsoe, related recently, “Oh yes, I remember Calvin. When I was a
kid in the 1950s, your grandpa went coon hunting with us. He said very little,
but when he said something - it was funny!”
Grandpa was
friends with the Jefferson family since he had leased for many years their land
south across the road from our farm. Frequently, in the summer, I would glance
out the window and catch a glimpse of Grandpa, with his fishing rod and small
tackle box, walking through the Jefferson pasture to the secluded pond.
Even though Grandpa milked the milk cow, fed and
watered between 200-500 chickens, gathered the hen eggs, and stored them in
the cellar until selling them to the hatchery, he took a little bit of time to
relax. Soon he returned to work with my grandma in the enormous garden or
cleared, by hand, the fence lines, repairing any breaches in the fence. My sister, and I never knew Grandpa kept the fences cleared until just months
before our father suffered his first stroke, and we asked him how he managed to
build houses and keep the fence lines from becoming overgrown. Dad replied,
“Calvin kept them cleared.”
Yet Grandpa found
time to fish. Angie went on more fishing jaunts with Grandpa than I did since
she was five years younger than I was. While I was off to school, they had many
trips to one of the three ponds on my parents’ farm. Angie, at a quite young
age, could speak fluently, was focused, and obedient. (When I was in second grade, Angie, at age seven,
memorized a poem I was learning for a school program and could recite it word
perfect!). Her calm and compliant demeanor made her the perfect fishing partner
even as a preschooler.
 |
| As much as Grandpa enjoyed fishing, he received much more joy at seeing Angie's excitement over his catch. |
Grandpa usually
caught something worth keeping. My
grandma, Gladys Vivian Rainey Smith, intimated that Grandpa’s Cherokee DNA contributed
to his understanding of everything from weather prediction to finding wild
edibles to discerning where and when the
fish were biting.
Mother recalled her father's impeccable ability to cast precisely, with laser precision, wherever he aimed in the water. Grandpa never used a stringer. Instead he always had a "gunny sack", a burlap bag, to hold his caught fish. He had constructed his own fish-cleaning table that he placed north of the garage. Upon returning from an afternoon of fishing, he immediately began scaling and preparing the fish so Mother could freeze them.
Mother recalled her father's impeccable ability to cast precisely, with laser precision, wherever he aimed in the water. Grandpa never used a stringer. Instead he always had a "gunny sack", a burlap bag, to hold his caught fish. He had constructed his own fish-cleaning table that he placed north of the garage. Upon returning from an afternoon of fishing, he immediately began scaling and preparing the fish so Mother could freeze them.
Mother recalled a
time when Grandpa went fishing alone at the Community Lake near Ralston early
one morning with the wind blowing from the north. He left before Mother and
Grandma could get around to go.
Grandpa returned soon
with three large catfish. He told them excitedly, that just as soon as he got
one off his hook and threw his line back into the water, another fish struck it
again. Grandpa’s excitement prompted him to be more verbal than he usually was.
Mother passed on to us this little rhyme about fishing.
That time the little rhyme about the wind direction and the predicted results
didn’t work.
Wind from the east,
Fishing is least.
Wind from the west,
Fishing is best.
Wind from the north,
Fisherman, go not forth.
Wind from the south
Blows in the fish’s mouth.
My father jokingly
said that Grandpa would move fast if a fishing trip were on the horizon.
Grandpa spent time preparing his tackle box, making and repairing his lures, and even
creating his own. Grandpa found a sturdy limb and made it into a fishing
“pole.” I always liked to use it, especially after his death, even though it
required extra muscle to hold it. One could be sure no fish would break the
pole!
Grandpa loved to
fish. I think a fisherman must be an optimist – he’ll reel in the next one. A committed fisher always expects the best – the next big
one won’t get away. A serious angler puts all his effort into achieving a goal – he will
land the next fish that bites.
Just weeks before
Grandpa’s death, Harold and Gertrude Forbes Goad came to our home to visit
Grandpa. He had faithfully taught the adult men’s Sunday School class at
Ralston Baptist Church in the late 1970s. Harold commented that the class
attendance had diminished and expressed some discouragement. Grandpa, in a
weakened condition and dangerously thin, responded to Harold with conviction
and optimism, “Harold, I’ll get back over there, and we’ll get it built back
up.”
Grandpa’s determination
and commitment provides a model for carrying through a responsibility to the
very end. May those of us who knew and loved him honor him on his birthday with
our own pledge to live courageously, doing the right thing with an infectious
spirit that impacts those around us for the good.
For reading the post about Grandpa's World War I experience, click:
http://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2014/11/the-spanish-flu-pandemic-of-1918.html
To access the blog posted on Grandpa's birthday two years ago with a portrait of him in his youth, click:
http://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2014/03/the-legacy.html
