The one that got away

The One That Got Away
By Ulysses McDowell

It was the summer of 1978, and I was a young Marine stationed at a recruiting station in Raleigh, North Carolina. I bought a small mobile home, the first major purchase I had ever made. I lived from payday to payday because to pay for the trailer. I was born and raised in Charlotte, North Carolina, which was about three hours from Raleigh. That's why I decided to reenlist instead of getting out of the Marine Corps—they offered me a deal that I couldn’t resist. It turned out to be one of the best decisions in my life.

One summer when my brother was visiting, we went fishing just about every day at a dam inside our mobile home park. We would catch brim as big as your hand, and we would occasionally catch a bass or a catfish. We were not only fishing for fun; we were fishing for food because—as I told you earlier—I was living from payday to payday. One day while we were fishing with fishing poles, using worms, my brother hooked into something that seemed very strange. He called out to me, and I watched his rod begin to take the form of the letter N. “Ah, you’re hooked on some weeds or something boy,” I teased him.

“No I haven't,” he shot back.”

I dropped my pole and ran over to investigate by brother’s curious situation. There was another guy beside us who had also stopped what he was doing to see what was going on. My brother tried to pull the tip of his pole up, and that’s when it happened. All of a sudden, from beneath the surface of the rippling water rose a mighty catfish. When the cat broke the surface, his head was so large that he scared all of us. He scared my bother Kevin so much that the poor fellow dropped his pole. The catfish started to swim away, dragging the pole behind him. “Get him,” I screamed. The three of us jumped into the water and tried to catch the cat. Despite our best efforts, the grand old bottom-dweller disappeared in the bubbles he had created when he first broke the surface, not unlike the Sturgeon Class Submarine. He slowly vanished before our blank stares, probably laughing at us, and definitely leaving me and my brother feeling deeply disappointed.

Don't tell my brother, but after seeing the fat cat, I really had no interest in catching him. Sure, I went through the motions, but in the heat of the moment, I was unable to articulate the food chain in the proper order. He was moving into deeper water, and I wasn't going to follow him. Perhaps he planned to lure me into deeper water then gobble me up like a big fat Nightcrawler. It's funny how your mind plays tricks on you when you encounter the unexpected in a fight or flight situation. Of course he couldn't gobble me up, could he? Anyway, the incident left one of the greatest fish stories that me and my brother tell at every family get-together. I thank you, Mr. Cat for allowing us to have a true and exciting story about the one that got away. That would be you big fellow.

It's Christmas time again, and in a few days, my family will gather for the holiday cheer. After a few beers, I probably turn to my bother and yell:

"Hey, Kevin, do you remember when I was stationed in Raleigh, and we went fishing at the dam?"............



Ulysses