While most of my family lived further north, and they were used to the woods, rivers, and lakes of Central and North Florida, I grew up more used to the beach, palmetto scrub, and canals of the south. When they were swimming in the rivers and spring-fed lakes, I was swimming in the Atlantic Ocean. They dodged gators; I dodged jellyfish and masses of Sargasso seaweed. My parents, having grown-up going to the beach, took us all the time. True, I took swimming lessons at a city pool, but I really learned how to swim in the Atlantic Ocean. Daddy would pick me up by one foot and one arm and throw me out as far as he could, and I'd swim back. One of my favorite things to do was to stand on his thighs (as he squatted). He'd then simultaneously stand up and push on my behind, and I'd fly up and into the water. That was better than any diving board! My parents also taught us to bob in the waves and to body surf the large ones in to shore. I've always loved just floating on my back as the waves gently rocked me, and the sun warmed me.
Daddy had fishing rules, though. He did not hold to talking while fishing. Being somewhat of a chatterbox, this was a real problem for me. He also made me bait my own hook. He usually used live shrimp as bait, so that was a problem. I never liked the way they would flip their tails against my hand when I reached into the bait bucket. Sometimes, he'd bait my first hook. When that happened, I'd make that poor shrimp last as long as possible. It never stayed in the water very long, as I was always checking it to see if a fish had hooked itself. I never thought that I was actually drowning that poor shrimp by taking it in and out of the water so much.I don't want to brag, but I was quite the expert at catching several things: rocks, sting rays, puffer fish, and my brother. Nothing that we wanted. (Well, I'm sure my parents wanted my brother--they just didn't want him with a hook stuck in him!) Although, every once in a while, I'd catch grunt, yellow tail, and, a couple of times, red snapper. If we didn't take the boat, we'd pick our way through mangrove swamp to stand and fish alongside the Inter-Coastal.
We just didn't fish salt or brackish water. We'd go up into Broward County and fish the canals in Davie. It was rural back then. That's when the cane poles came out for us kids. Again, we had to bait our own hooks, but I didn't mind putting worms or shiners on the hooks. My fishing expertise wasn't any better in fresh water. The worms suffered the same fate as the shrimp--lots of up and down. I honestly never remember catching anything but rocks. Daddy would get bass or catfish. My brother caught a mud fish one time, and he went running when that thing flapped and hissed.
So, fellow Crackers, while you were enjoying venison and wild hog, we were down south enjoying the fish we caught in the morning and fried that evening, served with baked beans and hush puppies. While you tromped in the pine woods, we were picking our way through a mangrove swamp..And we both found secret fishing "holes" to use our cane poles and worms. Are there any other Sand Crackers out there?
