When I was a little girl just starting to talk (my mother told me this, of course, since I wouldn't be able to remember it all by myself), my Mother always referred to my paternal grandmother as Mother Rock. Thus, as I started talking, I called her Rorrock and the name stuck. Now there are 4 other grandchildren, but they all call her Grandmaw or Maw Maw, but to this day, I call her Rorrock.
Now, when my mother was pregnant with me, my paternal grandfather called my mother Fat Pat. (her name is Pat) And in returned jest, she called him FatPaw! Thus I called him Fatpaw too and always did. All the others called him PawPaw. Now, there you have the rest of the story of the nicknames Rorrock and Fatpaw.
I spent a LOT of time at Rorrock and Fatpaw's house when I was young. At least every other weekend and a LOT of time during the summer and holidays was spent with them. I was the only grandchild for about 5 years, so of course, I was very, very spoiled. I got to do things and go places that most kids my age didn't get to do.
My grandparents owned property in Alabama north of Mobile, and on that property was a 5,or so, acre lake. It was hilly land and the lake was at the bottom of those hills like a crater of sorts. It looked very similar to this one. My most fond
memories of childhood are of the many hours Rorrock, Fatpaw and I spent at that lake fishing. I grew up fishing and still love to fish today. Fatpaw built a small two-story cabin next to that lake and in the concrete that was poured, all of our hand prints were laid. The upper floor had a kitchenette and a bathroom and a small room for a bedroom/livingroom and a large screened porch all the way across the front facing the lake.
He had a part of the screened porch that opened out over the lake like a window so that we could drop bread and scraps to the fish and watch them swim around from up there. Of course, I had to stand in a chair to be able to reach that opening and I spent many an hour standing there throwing bread out to the fish. The ducks would also come and enjoy the bread.
My Fatpaw and I would walk all around the lake, up the hills, and down the other sides and see all sort of wildlife, lots of snakes and birds. The ducks that lived on the lake (to which I got to feed cracked corn) would sometimes follow us around the lake, waddling and quacking as if to say, "Hey wait for us!" Sometimes we found nests with duck eggs in them. I always had fun there and especially spending time with Fatpaw.
One special memory is the cat that lived at the cabin. When Fatpaw and I would go out in the boat to fish, that cat would actually jump in the water, swim out to the boat
and swim round and round it until Fatpaw would pick him up (fearing he would finally tire out and drown) and put him in the boat with us. There he would ride until we finished our fishing for the day.We mostly (I mostly) fished with old cane poles for brim and bass.
My Fatpaw taught me to bait my line (which I had to do by myself if I was going to fish) and how to make the cork the right depth for the fish I wanted. One of his techniques though, was to bait several cane poles and drop them in different areas of the lake (they float) and then go back and check them. One day we were out there and he had droped about 7 or 8 cane poles in the water to float fish. As we were riding around with me fishing from the boat, suddenly we saw one of the cane poles take off across the lake at a rather rapid speed. We chased it down and caught up with it and when Fatpaw pulled it out of the water, he had a very large bass on the other end. What a CATCH! WOW! He was so excited! He could fit his whole fist into its mouth.
So many sweet memories. It makes me smile now to think about it all. There are so many more stories if The Fish Pond (as we called it) but I don't have time right now to write them and I am sure you are getting tired of reading this blog so have a wonderful day.
I want to go fishing!!! That is wild about that cat swimming. I love the pics!