Willis Creek, R C Cola, A little Bait, A Few Friends, And Good Times

I woke up that Summer morning of 1960, not because I had to, but because I wanted to. It was a summer day much the same as any other summer day back in my early life in Brownwood, Texas. The evaporative cooler was blowing a cool damp air across the room and the leaves on the old Cottonwood Tree outside the open window clattered with the rhythm of the blowing wind. I rolled out of the bottom bunk, scratched the top of my butch cut head, slipped into the cutoff blue jean shorts laying by the bed and began my day with nothing in particular in mind but to enjoy the day.

Within a few minutes, the rest of the household was stirring. Of course Dad had been at work for a couple of hours, but now Mom, Danny (3 1/2 years my junior), Chris and Pat (7 1/2 years my junior) and Steve (almost 10 years my junior) where awake and ready for the breakfast ritual. Being the oldest at eleven years of age, I would pour Danny and I our bowl of raisin bran cereal (with plenty of sugar), load Chris, Pat and Steve into their respective high chairs, gather the appropriate jars of baby food and help Mom with feeding the three youngest brothers which was a lot like working in an automobile assembly line but messier. 

With breakfast complete, Danny and I were out the door. As with any other Summer day, we had no set plan. The possibilities were many, riding bicycles, adding more two by fours to the tree house, digging out in "the cave", play in the sprinklers (because we had already torn up the Slip'N Slide) or ganging up with the neighborhood kids and playing games, most of which we just made up as we played. As Danny and I were kicking around in the back yard, we came across some of Dad's old fishing equipment leaning against our storage shed. There were no reels, only old rods that had been used for salvage parts for the rods and reels that Dad kept out of our reach. It was with this sighting the dreams of the day were born...Fishing trip!

We convinced ourselves that if we could come up with our own fishing equipment, with no cost to Mom and Dad, dig up our own worms and promise to be very, very, very careful, we might actually talk Mom into letting us go fishing in Willis Creek. Danny and I began to shape what material we could find into makeshift fishing tackle. We found an old tackle box with a spool of fishing line, a few hooks and several old stained red and white bobbers. We also found several segments of cane poles that we were able to tape together with masking tape.

As we labored on our prospective fishing equipment, several of the Groom kids, neighbors from two houses up from us, came over. The Groom gang was also made up of five kids although Dale was older and had other interest most of the time. But, that left Jeannie, Linda, Judy and Brent to romp and stomp with. It would be a mistake to think because three were girls, they could not hold up their end of climbing, riding, rock throwing, digging or playing ball.

Although Danny and I had yet to gather the necessary courage to even ask permission for the fishing trip, we shared our plans and immediately our workforce was more than doubled. We finished putting together our fishing arsenal and then set out to stock up on fishing bait. Half of us began digging for worms in the worm bed (A spot in the back yard were Dad always dumped his coffee grounds) and the rest of us went in search of grass hoppers, just in case the fish weren't interested in worms.
Finally, we had everything together and there was nothing left to do but ask Mom if we could go. I told Danny to just stay outside with everyone else and I would go in and ask if we could go, knowing if he went in, he would just mess things up and make Mom mad.

As I walked into the house, I couldn't hear Chris, Pat and Steve hollering and crying so that was a good sign. As I walked into the living room, Mom was sitting and listening to her Mills Brothers album...another good sign, it meant she was in a good mood. Before I even had a chance to open my mouth, Mom said, "What do you want now?"

This is where I had to be very careful. I began by telling her that Danny and I had been working very hard making us some fishing equipment out of Dad's old fishing stuff and (It was important not to stop talking and give Mom time to say no before I ever even got to the question) we and the Groom kids had already dug up a bunch of worms and caught about a half of a mayonnaise jar full of grass hoppers for bait. Then I asked if we could please go fishing with the Groom kids if we promised to be very careful and do exactly what she told us to do.

Almost immediately Mom said, "No, I don't think so."

It wasn't time to panic yet because Mom always said no at first. I quickly regrouped and repeated how careful we would be and how we would be home exactly at the time she specified and then ended my pleads by saying I was pretty sure the other kids were going to be able to go.

There was a pause and then Mom asked, "Just where were you wanting to go?"

This was a good sign, I quickly told her we wanted to go to Willis Creek.

"Well, that's kind of far, isn't it?", Mom asked.
This is where I pointed out that it was just a little ways farther than Mr. Dewbre's Store and we walk to Dewbre's all the time.

Then Mom asked what we were going to eat and drink, especially drink because it was going to be awful hot. I told her I thought we could use one of her milk bottles to put some ice water in, maybe take enough R C Colas from the storeroom for everybody and pack some Moon Pies and bubble gum for snacks.

There was an uncomfortably long pause, but I knew it was best to just let Mom think. Finally Mom said she guessed we could go, but that we had to be home by two o'clock, we were not to go anywhere except where we said we were going, I was to take care of my little brother, we were not to get into the water, we had to make sure we watched for snakes, watch for cars, and that she might drive up to the bridge we were supposed to be fishing near and we better be there.

I gave her a big ol' hug and a thank you, we gathered our supplies and headed for the Groom house. Half the battle was done, now to see how effective Linda, my girlfriend (although I don't think anybody but me knew that), would be.

The rest of us sat outside on the back porch playing out all the possible scenarios and what our reactions might be. It seemed like an eternity, we had drank about half of our ice water and were eyeballing the Moon Pies when Linda and her mother appeared at the back door and we stood at attention waiting for the decision that would make or break the whole day, or week for that matter.

The news was good, the fishing trip was on. We let out a yell, gathered our material and was about to head for the creek when Mrs. Groom told us to "hold our horses" that she had some things she wanted to make clear. So, biting at the bit to hit the road, we listened to pretty much the same lecture and threats we had just heard from my Mom. Finally, we were cleared for departure.

We were finally on our way, giggling and laughing with excitement, looking somewhat like a band of small gypsies carrying our makeshift fishing equipment and pulling our wagon loaded with our food, water (what was left of it) and gear.

To us young gypsies the trip seemed like miles and miles and it was hard to believe we were going to explore new territory well outside our normal roaming limits of the Woodland Heights Elementary play grounds and Mr. Dewbre's Store. Although brimming with excited energy in anticipation of catching that first fish, we were very careful to follow all the instructions that we had been given twice by the Moms knowing if we messed up (and got caught) there would be no future fishing trips.

Still filled with electric energy and talking a hundred miles an hour, we arrived at our destiny....Willis Creek! At that moment, nothing could be more impressive to us, not even the Colorado River. We were on an adventure, unsupervised, trusted and ready to prove that trust....but mostly we were ready for the good times to begin.

Willis Creek seemed to be ready for us with its slowly running water with perfect large pools of deeper water, just right for fishing. The katydids and locusts sang all around us as the wind blew through the Johnson Grass and the tops of the trees. The grand old Willow Trees bowed over the creek hiding it from the torturous hot West Texas sun. It was as if the creek knew we would be there, everything was perfect.

In just a matter of minutes we were scattered along the bank, hooks baited and bobbers bobbing. Then we did what we were there to do, we caught fish, mostly perch and brim, but there was a catfish or two and seems like there may have been a small black bass, although by the time we told our story the bass had gained a few pounds. We sat on the creek bank in the relatively comfortable shade laughing and talking, as friends do, sharing our R C Colas and Moon Pies, catching enough fish to keep it fun and knowing at that moment we had it made.

Every so often I would pull an old wrist watch of my Dad's (it didn't have a band) out of my pocket and check the time because we promised we would be home by two o'clock. Every time I checked the watch I was amazed how fast the time was going by. Then, way too quickly, it was 1:15 (the time we had decided we would need to leave to get back home in plenty of time). Without an argument, except from my brother Danny (he always wanted to stay just a little longer), we gathered our equipment, picked up our trash, loaded up our wagon and headed home.

We were almost as excited going home as we had been on the trip to the creek that morning. We relived every fish we caught and, just like our parents, we bragged about the ones that got away. We knew we had been entrusted with more responsibility than we had ever had before and we were proud that we had actually kept our end of the bargain. 

Willis Creek isn't as big and majestic as it was back in my eleven year old mind but when I go home and drive across it, I look down at the lazy stream and the swaying Willow Trees and I smile as I hear the laughter and chatter of a little band of neighborhood friends living a dream in a place they once thought was out of their reach. Willis Creek, R C Colas, best friends and Moon Pie....that's the stuff of dreams.