When I was quite young a catalog would arrive in the mailbox, it was all Christmasy colored, and if I recall it was mailed by JCPenney, titled something like the toy catalog.
Now me being me, I wasn’t to impressed with it, not like my mother was however. She would sit down with me at night and stroll the pages asking what I though of this or that colored shirts, socks, dress shoes, and so on.
I never thought a shirt was a good gift, heck I was so young I didn’t know if it was even needed or necessary, a shirt, socks, that wasn’t my idea of present. But the red and black plaid and the green and black I liked a fair bit. Mom however felt I had enough of the same-colored shirts, and like most things when I was kid, I was overruled.
One year long about Thanksgiving, she set me down, no catalog in hand, and asked me, what would you really like for Christmas. I couldn’t grab the Fur Fish and Game magazine fast enough. I showed her traps and rifles, mountain men hunting knives, fishing lures, and the coup de resistance, snowshoes, ash and gut lash. I said gut lash every chance I got, and hand woven, shellacked a plenty. Oh I starred at them all three sizes offered over and over again.
Well mom musta got my subtle eyes popping hints, for that year under the tree, I got my very first pair of snowshoes, they were bear paws, I actually wore em out. And as hard as it is to imagine, some 60 years or better, I still have two shirts given to me by my mother. She just knew how to pick em.
- The Trout Whisperer
