Tonight, I will tell you what I have always called “My Big Fish Story.” I would like to preface this story by telling you that every word is true. I am not like some fishermen and embellish the tale.

Missouri, for the most part, is still a green state. It is an outdoorsman’s paradise. The huge forests are teeming with deer, turkey and other wildlife. It is a popular vacation spot during hunting season. Missouri also is home to some very large lakes and fishermen and boaters alike enjoy the many recreational facilities available. The Lake of the Ozarks (known to the local population as “The Lake”) located in Central Missouri is so large it actually has more miles of shoreline than the entire State of California.

My story, however, does not take place at The Lake but rather at Table Rock Lake. Located in southern Missouri in the Ozark Mountains.

In the early 1960’s my father began to have symptoms of a major heart condition. His doctor advised him that he needed to relax and find something that interested him. He decided that fishing was fun, relaxing and inexpensive. So he bought a fishing pole, a few lures, and a fishing license. The neighbors allowed him to fish in their ponds.

The next summer he had the bright idea that camping would be fun, relaxing and inexpensive. With the Sears Roebuck catalog on one knee and the Montgomery Ward catalog on the other he ordered a tent, sleeping bags, a camp stove and other necessary items for our inexpensive vacation.

The time came to leave on the camping vacation. Everything when packed just right fit in the trunk of the car. We merrily set off to visit my mother’s weird family in West Virginia.

The next summer, my father decided to buy a fishing boat and outboard motor. He thought it would be inexpensive and relaxing to camp at Table Rock Lake. This monster lake has over eight hundred miles of shoreline. The dam is located in Branson, Missouri. We camped at the most primitive campground he could find near Blue Eye, Missouri. Blue Eye is located on the Missouri/Arkansas border about twenty-two miles south of Branson.

My mother and sister, Peggy, are both sleepy heads and go to bed at a “decent” hour and get lots of sleep. I’ve never understood that concept. Bed is a great place to die. Other than that I’ve never had much use for sleep. Daddy was always a night owl too. He was a big man, well over six feet tall and very strong. Most people called him Red because of his red hair and ruddy complexion. He also had a heart that was giving out on him at a young age. I did not know him very long as a well person.