My Babbling Brook

I will never be a Thoreau or a Hemingway.

I do, however, decent from a Hollar and I have the last name Murray. I’ve written a few memoirs of fishing with my late-Grandfather. He taught me a great deal about fishing ‘Blackwater’ and the briny waters of New Hanover County. I can still remember the smell of Polo and Marlboro Reds in the old Oldsmobile. I cannot count the number of crickets that were drowned in Prince George Creek or the pounds of shrimp that were pealed in the surf beyond St. Therese’s Catholic Church. I’ve got so many memories with my grandfather. There are so many I’d love to share with him. I’d love to tell him about the largest bass I’ve ever caught when he was in the hospital dying of cancer. That bass didn’t seem so important at the time. Yet still I know if he’d been able to hear me he would have loved to know every detail. He’d love to know that I caught it on an old Mann’s Jelly worm he gave me that was made long before I was even born. But the stories of throwing Mirr-o-Lures in chest waders that was in his Eulogy will suffice.

Today I made a memory that I would love to be able to share with my grandfather. I did something today that I’m not sure he ever did. He was a man who caught 100+lb Tarpon and more Speckled Sea Trout than Bass Pro Shops has lures. He kept rods for Bream fishing and a cricket bucket in the trunk of his car just so he and I could fish on a whim if we wanted to. I believe those Fliers we would catch in Prince George together brought him as much enjoyment if not more than when he managed to catch a 60lb Channel Bass on Ocracoke. I think that has been passed on to me. Its not always about catching the monster, but enjoying time with people you love and spending time on/at the water.

Today I managed to have my Diet of Worms. I, unlike Luther, had to recant. I caught my first North Carolina mountain trout. (my first mountain trout from any state for that matter) I’ve been living in Hendersonville since October and I’ve not been able to catch one of the pesky little critters.

Today was different. I managed to catch five trout.

One Brown.

Two Brooks.

Two Rainbows.

I had the joy of watch each of my fish (including the several that I managed to not get a hookset on or see jump off) bite my baits. I now know why guys spend so much time and money fishing for trout. They fight hard, present somewhat of a challenge, and are a beautiful display of God’s handiwork.  Perhaps in God’s providence and blessing I’ll continue to have memories like this to be made and shared.

Sometimes you need to embrace the cliche. Make good memories, they’re worth remembering. Take a kid fishing.

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2 thoughts on “My Babbling Brook

  1. I loved this Allen. I know paw paw would be proud and who knows he may have been sitting on one of those rocks watching on at every cast.

  2. Now that I have shed many tears reading this, Paw Paw would be so proud of you. Cherish all those memories and pass them on to your children and their children. What an awesome way to carry on the memories that you and Paw Paw shared. You will never regret spending time with the ones you love. Love you.

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