Summer Storms

By Jacob Hatcher  

Community Columnist  

This time of year it’s pretty bipolar, weather wise. One second it’s sunny and humid then you blink and it’s time to start building an ark.  

This has been one of those days.  

As I stood on the sidewalk watching it rain, it brought to mind a day many years ago on Pickwick Lake 80 some odd miles west of here.  

Granddaddy was taking me and my brother fishing, and when we left Sheffield that morning, it was as pretty a day as there could be.  

We stopped in at a gas station to get chicken livers, but the lady said they didn’t sell any chicken livers. Grandaddy had gotten chicken livers there a hundred times, so we were confused when she said, “We don’t have any chicken livers. We’ve got some rooster livers though.”  

We decided we’d settle for rooster livers.  

We finally got to the lake, put the boat in the water, and no sooner than we’d put a not-chicken liver on the hook, the sky turned black and the bottom fell out. We headed for the boat ramp as quick as we could.  

Soaking wet, dodging lightning bolts, we climbed into Granddaddy’s Ford Ranger, ate our snacks, and drank our Dr. Peppers.  

We didn’t catch any fish that day. On paper, you might say it was a wasted trip. All that way just to spend a few minutes on the water and not catch anything.  

But life isn’t lived on paper. It’s lived in the experiences we have and the memories we make. I’ve had plenty of catfish in my life. No piece any more memorable than the next, really.  

But I’ve only drank a Dr. Pepper crouched under a covered truck bed hiding from a storm with my brother and Grandaddy one time.  

We went home with an empty stomach, but we spent the day doing something Grandaddy loved, and that’s worth a whole lot.  

I think about that day  every time a sudden thunderstorm pops up. And that memory’s a whole lot better than any catfish I ever had the pleasure of putting on a plate.