To Catch a Fish

Posted on October 12, 2020 by Carrie Ann Alexis

Missing my dad today. It’s been 8 years since his passing and I miss him all the time. Thought I would share one of my favorite stories I had written about him.

To Catch a Fish

This is a story about a little girl, a little girl who just wanted to catch a fish. This is my story, that little girl was me.

Growing up in a small town that rests on the edge of Lake Michigan, along with several other smaller lakes within its borders, one was sure to find the perfect fishing spot. My dad was an avid fisherman and taught us all how to fish. My childhood memories are ones of warm evenings spent with my whole family, fishing at the channel, which at one time connected the smaller Wolf Lake to Lake Michigan.

I’m not sure if my sister and mom actually fished when we went, but they were there nonetheless, probably reading a book or a magazine. Being the youngest after my two brothers, I was a bit of a tomboy growing up, getting caught up playing the things that they enjoyed. So, when it came time to fish with my dad and brothers, I was all in. Well, as all in as I could be at the age of six. I watched in awe as my brothers cast out their lines with those fancy rods and reels of theirs. It was a true art form, and took practice, with just the right movements to send that bobber out into the lake at the perfect spot. It was all in the timing, you pulled back, pressed the button to release the line with a flick of the wrist, you heard the whizzing sound of the line as it would sail through the air. You knew it was a perfect cast, when you heard the ever so slight plop of the bobber as it breached the surface of the glass-like lake, with only a few ripples; your worm on its hook settling in the murky water to wait. Then there was my experience, with my cane pole, and red and white bobber. No skill really needed, I just flung it out into the drink and hoped for the best. My dad always taught us about safety, reminding us how sharp and pointy the hook was, and that you needed to be careful as you cast your line out, so that the hook wouldn’t snag you in the back of the head. Even though I was a tomboy, I was still a little girl, and putting a worm on a hook, was not for me. That was my dad’s job, and I was fine with that, and it was key in this little charade he called fishing.

So, there I sat, with my cane pole and my red and white bobber just sitting there. We didn’t talk much, if we did it was quiet conversation, as to “not wake the fish.” Even when one of us got a hit, we didn’t get overly excited. It was a simple, “I got one.” As we manned our poles yet watched the dance between the fish and the fisherman as it was brought to shore. Sure enough as I heard the ‘got one’ on my left, there was two more on my right. Holding on to my trusty pole, just knowing I had to be next, needing to be ready, yet I couldn’t help but turn my attention to my brothers reeling in their catch. Once the excitement wore off, we sat. Then sat some more. . .waiting. As the sun set and the breeze began to cool, you could hear the gentle lapping of the lake on the shore, and a small voice innocently question, “Hey Dad. . .why haven’t I caught a fish yet.” Which was always answered with some wise fish tale, that only a six-year old could believe.

Then there was the one evening, as I was growing bored with the whole not catching a fish thing, I started looking through my dad’s tackle box. I found a round tin, with the letters SKOAL on it, not sure what it was, I was bent on finding out, and tried to open it. It was a struggle for my small hands, but I figured out that I had to push the top and bottom together real hard and twist to open it. With my fierce determination, I got it opened and the contents of the tin burst out and covered my entire chest. As I looked down, I was coated in what looked like saw dust, and little, tiny, squirmy, white. . .WORMS!! I’m not sure if anyone else heard the scream like I did in my head. Maybe I actually held it in, as to not wake the fish, but I was totally freaking out. Just as quickly as it happened, it was over as my dad rushed over, brushed everything off of me and saved me from the Bee Moths! Or just maybe he saved the Bee Moths from me. With those wormy-like things back in their little home, I went back to my cane pole, and sat. . .waiting. . .and sat some more. This was so much better than being eaten alive by Bee Moth Larvae. Or was it? You see, everyone, except me, knew that there was never a worm on my hook! Honestly, I’m not sure there was even a hook!

But then one day it happened. My dad, knowing he couldn’t keep up this ruse forever, decided that just him and I would go fishing, early one morning. We got out to the channel just as the sun was rising over the horizon. My dad grabbed two rods and reels from the trunk, and his tackle box. With my eyes wide, I realized the cane pole stayed behind. Is it possible? I got a quick lesson on how to cast out. My first few tries landed my bobber with a ker-plunk in the water not 3 feet from where I was standing. Try again. With my dad’s help, I was able to cast out. Proudly holding on to my precious rod and reel, I sat, waiting. . .this time with a smile on my face. It’s going to happen today!! Sure enough, I felt that little tug, and then “Dad. . .I got one!” We both stood, and he coached me as the fish tried to run with the bait in his mouth, “Let him go for a little bit, then reel him in.” I did that a few times, excitement pounding in my ears, mixed in with the whirling sound of the reel as I brought my catch to shore. My dad grabbed the line and pulled it out of the water. There on the end, frantically flipping, was my first catch, a nice little Perch. I finally did it!!

OK. . .so I totally exercised my artistic license on that last paragraph. I really don’t remember actually fishing that day, but I do remember taking this picture, and I’m sure I actually caught this particular fish. I am smiling so broadly not because I was proud of my catch, but those things are slippery little suckers, and it was hard to hold on to.

As we got older, my brothers moved on, and lost interest in fishing. I totally lost interest, and set my sights on gaining some fashion sense, thank God. (Either my dad dressed me that morning, or these were hopefully my ‘fishin’ clothes.’) My dad went on to bigger and better fishing opportunities. Fishing with his buddies on their boats, or going out alone and fishing off the shore of Lake Michigan, which earned him the Indiana State Record in 1983 by catching the largest Brown Trout weighing in at 22 lbs. 8 oz. A title he held on to for several years.

Today, you probably couldn’t pay me to go fishing. I’ve put my time in, thank you very much. But I’m grateful for the time spent with my family and the memories I have. However, just like any good fish story, the details are subject to over-exaggeration with each telling.

100 Years Ago

Posted on August 22, 2020 by Carrie Ann Alexis

Hello Everyone! It seems time is flying by, yet some days it seems to stand still as we anticipate when our lives will be back to normal as we catch glimpses of hope navigating through this pandemic. Hope everyone is safe and well!

Some of you may know that I started writing and posting to my blog when I participated in Blogbattle. Through the Blogbattle community I was introduced to different genres from the other writers. I would leave comments like I could NEVER write a historical fiction, or a western. Well that prompted a challenge from our host Rachael, she challenged me to write a western. I didn’t do it right away, but I eventually did it, and actually enjoyed it. Though I still stood on the belief that I couldn’t do a historical or period piece. Well low and behold, the Blogbattle guidelines were revamped and a not only was a word prompt provided, but a genre as well. So, the day arrived when the genre was Historical Fiction, and I gave it a shot. I said all this to say. . .

I would like to share with you my one and only Historical Fiction story.

I am reposting this story because on August 26^th Women’s Equality Day is celebrated in the US to commemorate the 1920 adoption of the Nineteenth Amendment, which guarantees women the right to vote, and this year marks the 100^th Anniversary. This story was originally written in February 2017, as we settled in after a memorable election year with our first Woman Nominated for President and on the ballot. So, at that time I thought it fitting to do a historical fiction about the Suffrage Movement. And here we stand on the edge of history again, as our first woman of color has been nominated for Vice President. We’ve come a long way! #girlpower

When I did a search for my research for this story, a woman named Carrie Chapman Catt came up. She was a suffragist, peace activist and feminist leader who led the women’s rights movement for more than 25 years culminating in the adoption of the Nineteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution in 1920. That is the point in history I decided to write about. Carrie Chapman Catt married a wealthy engineer named George Catt, which allowed her to spend a good part of each year on the road campaigning for women’s suffrage. At this point in history, Carrie was much older than I depicted in the story, so that is what makes it historical fiction 😉. I hope you enjoy my fictional story, about a real historical figure. The word prompt given for this Story/Blogbattle was “Adore.”

1920’s Lingo:

Bushwa: bullshit

Bearcat: a lively, spirited woman, possibly with a fiery streak

For Suffrage’s Sake

Henry walks into George’s office early Monday morning like he has done for the past ten years. Being longtime friends and then business partners, they discuss business first and then catch up as friends do.

“We’ve missed you down at the club.” Henry takes a seat in front of George’s desk.

“I’ll get back there soon, been busy.”

“Been busy throwing good money after bad, helping your wife fight the good fight?” Henry not holding back on the sarcasm.

George glares over the top rims of his glasses. “Be careful Henry.”

“Well the talk is, that if that bearcat of a wife of yours had children to take care of she wouldn’t have time to stir up trouble.” Henry leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees.

George removes his glasses and sits back. “Frankly, it is no one’s business what my wife and I decide to do or not do.”

Pointing with his glasses still in hand. “Henry, it is that kind of thinking that will not move this country forward. Look what the women have done for our business, while our men were out fighting the war. Where would we be, if it weren’t for them? I’ll tell you where we wouldn’t be, we wouldn’t be sitting in a lush country club spouting off bushwa.”

Henry leans back in his chair, hands raised in surrender, “I’m just letting you know what’s been said. Can’t say that I agree with it all, can’t say I disagree on some. I personally feel a woman’s place is in the home, where she can care for the children, and take care of the little things I don’t have to be bothered with. Leave the important things to the men, like working and voting. What does a woman know about government, or politics? My wife has no interest in that sort of thing, how could she possibly make an educated choice when voting?”

George raises his voice slightly. “She can’t, Henry! Because you won’t let her.”

He sets his glasses down and folds his hands in front of him calming himself. “I admire what my wife is doing, she is bright, resilient and she speaks up for those women who can’t. Yes, women are great keepers of the home, and it’s that expertise in maintaining the home and nurturing the family that would improve politics and our society. When the good Lord created Eve, he used the rib for a reason. She was not taken from his feet to be under him, but from his side to stand beside him and support him, just as we are to support them.”

Henry mumbles under his breath. “Yes and look how well that turned out.”

Just then the whistle blows as a sign of the changing of the shift on the factory floor. Henry’s cue to get to his own office to start his day. George puts the conversation out of his mind and doesn’t give it another thought as the demands of his day are upon him. He doesn’t fault Henry his opinions, he knows some people will never change.

~ ♥~

George arrives home and is greeted by his wife. Carrie has had a busy day herself, but looks forward to the time they spend talking about their day. Even after all these years when he sees his wife he is awestruck at her beauty. It’s like he is looking at her for the first time. “How was your day Mr. Catt?” Looking at him with a playful grin.

Before he answers he walks up to her, holds her face in his hands, and kisses her like they have been away from each other for days.

“Hello my love. Well, it seems that it is a public scandal the way I adore you.”

“Whatever do you mean Georgie?” Laughing and using the pet name she has given him.

He takes her by the hand and leads her to the parlor to sit comfortably on the sofa. He sits first, and as she is about to take the seat next to him; he pulls her towards him so that she sits on his lap. With a giggle of delight, she settles in to hear what he has to say. Oh, how she loves this part of the day.

He recounts the conversation he had with Henry that morning. She listens to every word he says, nodding occasionally, as he subconsciously laces his fingers with hers, or plays with the lace on her collar.

“It’s such a shame there are small minded people such as Henry, still, to this day, even after all we have accomplished thus far.”

“Well my dear, it is hard for some people to change their minds even when the change is happening right before their eyes.”

“Oh Georgie, we are so close to gaining the voting rights for all women in this country. The sacrifices some of the women have made is truly extraordinary. It has been an honor to be a part of something so momentous.”

He pushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “You, my darling, are extraordinary, and all that you have sacrificed and accomplished makes me adore you even more. This Women’s Right Movement will propel this country to greatness.”

Carrie listens yet in her mind she visualizes what things will be like in 10 or 20 years. When she thinks even further in the future, her eyes widen, and she sits up straight. “Oh George, dare I dream that one day there may be a Woman President?”

He rubs his thumb along her cheek. “My love, the American dream belongs to all of us.”

Her eyes sparkling, she gives him a kiss. “Can you imagine what this country will be like in 100 years?”

“My dearest Carrie, I am certain it will be a sight to behold.”

“It is a public scandal the way I adore you” – Oscar Wilde

“The American dream belongs to all of us” – Kamala Harris

#BlogBattle: Clone – Always

Posted on October 20, 2019 by Carrie Ann Alexis

#BlogBattle is now a monthly short story challenge using a single word for inspiration. Which is now administered by my two talented blog friends Rachael Ritchey and E. E. Rawls, as well as Gary Jeffries.

This month’s word: Clone

ALWAYS

Joey comes barreling down the stairs, phone in hand with ear buds attached. We almost collide at the bottom of the steps as I walk out of my home office to go to the kitchen.

“Whoa! Slow down!” I laugh putting my arms in front of me as a buffer.

Removing an earbud, “Sorry mom, the guys are waiting for me.” He turns towards the door.

“Not so fast.” I stretch out my arms. “You have time for your birthday hug, c’mere ya big lug.”

Dropping his head, knowing he can’t argue with me, he walks into my embrace.

“Happy Birthday! I love you!” I give him a tight squeeze before I let go.

“Thanks mom, love you too!” He crams the ear bud back in his ear and walks out the door.

In the kitchen I set my phone down on the counter and reach for a coffee mug. The sun is shining in through the windows by the breakfast nook, and just like every other day, Joseph is already sitting there.

“Hey there handsome.” I smile as I pour myself a cup of coffee.

“Good Morning beautiful!” Returning the smile that I so love.

I add sugar and cream to my coffee and give it a stir. “Can you believe Joey is already 18? Eighteen years old! That was the age you were when I first met you, remember?”

“I do.”

With both hands wrapped around the mug, I savor the warmth and smell before I take a slow sip as I lean against the counter. “I remember the day I first laid eyes on you. You and your buddies came into the candy store I worked at after school, just laughing and carrying on. You walked in with that swagger of yours, not stuck up, but cool and casual, like you didn’t have a care in the world. Joey walks just like that.”

I set my coffee down, turn on the faucet to wash the few dishes that were left in the sink from last night.

“You think so? Huh, I never noticed.”

“Oh yeah.” I nod. “He is so much like you, the walk, the smile, he even sounds like you. It’s like he’s your clone.”

I am interrupted by a notification from my phone. I turn off the water and dry my hands. I was waiting on an answer from my boss to move forward on a project, and I just got the okay. I quickly respond and set my phone back down. As I look up towards the breakfast nook, Joseph is already gone. Just like he is every day.

“Oh Joseph, you would be so proud of your son. If only you were here to see him. God, I miss you.”

The last time I saw Joseph, it was a week after our honeymoon. We had gotten married during the time between his basic training and his first deployment to Afghanistan. As I hugged him goodbye, I didn’t even know I was pregnant yet. We were so young and in love, we didn’t think about the realities of war. I always pictured him coming home in his dress blues, me running into his arms as he picked me up and twirled me around.

I grab a muffin and my coffee and sit at the breakfast nook absorbing the warmth of the sun streaming through the window, memories flash through my mind like an old movie.

Joey was a little over a year old when Joseph returned home, he was too young to remember. But I remember. I’ll never forget that day. Joseph did arrive home wearing his dress blues, or at least that is what they told me. All I remember seeing are the bold colors of the stars and stripes draped over cold steel. Not the warm homecoming I envisioned. The days leading up to and after that moment are a blur, I don’t know how I made it through, but somehow, I did.

Joey was raised to honor the flag, and he knew his dad died doing what he was called to do, serving his country. Thankfully this is one area where Joey is different from his dad, and I would like to believe that it’s God’s mercy on my heartbroken soul that Joey doesn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps and enlist. I don’t think I could find the strength to hug another soldier goodbye.

Joey wants to become a lawyer; he wants to help people fight for their rights and be instrumental in fixing the injustices of the world. His dad would be so proud of him. I’m so proud of him! It wasn’t easy raising a son all by myself. I wasn’t supposed to do any of this alone.

I finish off what’s left of my muffin. My coffee is still warm. I lean back in my chair, slowly drinking the last of it, looking out the window. Today I embraced the son that embodies the love of my life. He is every bit like the man I said goodbye to all those year ago. Yes, today is going to be a day of mixed emotions, but I choose to hold on to the happy ones. Just as I am about to get up from the table, I see a red cardinal fly into the yard and land on the top of our flagpole.

Laughing, I stand up. “Ah Joseph, you are always here, and know just how to make me feel better. Thanks honey.”

I give the bird a salute, take my dishes to the sink, and start my day.

#BlogBattle: Shield – Re-Inventing Roni

Posted on September 29, 2019 by Carrie Ann Alexis

Hello! Wow, it has been way too long! I had to clear out the cobwebs on my blog. My life has taken me into a season where I needed to focus on some other things, but my desire to write has slowly been making its way back up to the surface. So I am super excited to return with none other than a #BlogBattle!

#BlogBattle is now a monthly short story challenge using a single word for inspiration. Which is now administered by my two talented blog friends Rachael Ritchey and E. E. Rawls, (I’ve missed you guys!) as well as Gary Jeffries.

This month’s word: Shield

RE-INVENTING RONI

“Not a word, and you won’t get hurt. We’re going for a ride.”

The voice is familiar. I am grabbed from behind and before I know it, I am pushed into a van. I recognize the guy holding the door open. As he jumps in, he slides the door shut, and we are plunged into darkness. When the guy who grabbed me flicks on a light, I have to shield my eyes from the brightness until they can focus.

“Oh, it’s you two.” I recognize Dominic’s henchmen, Marco and Jimmy, they watch my every move. I had just left the club with my friends after a much-needed night out.

“It’s always a pleasure Roni.” Marco smirks.

“What did I do wrong this time? Was it the way I was dancing? Did I drink too much? Was it the . . .”

“Shut. Up! You’ll find out soon enough.” Jimmy rubs his hand down his face. I’m surprised Jimmy even had it in him. I pegged him as the muscle of the operation, he usually doesn’t talk. He must be having a bad day.

The van comes to an abrupt stop, I hear the front door slam, as the driver gets out. I’m left with Fric and Frac.

Looking at Jimmy, Marco nods his head towards the back doors, “You and Nick, go take a walk, stretch your legs, I got this.”

Without a word, he leaves slamming the door behind him. From what I can tell we are in a nondescript parking garage.

Marco glowers, “So, the guy you were talking to at the bar. . .”

“Geeeez-us.” Shaking my head. “I should have known. All this, for that? He’s an old friend! You really have to . . .”

Marco holds up his hand to stop me from talking. “Roni, seriously, stop talking. We don’t have much time, just listen to me.”

Crossing my arms over my chest I slump back in my seat. “Fine. Then talk.”

“I’m not who you think I am, I’m on your side. Your old friend, Dennis? He is one of us. We are about to take down Dominic, and he’ll be locked up for a long time. If you don’t cooperate with us, you will go down too. But, we know how desperate you are to get away from him, so I’m thinking you will.”

“We? Who’s We?”

“I can’t get into that right now; you just have to trust me.”

“Yeah? What happens when Dominic figures out I’m helping whoever? He’ll kill me in my sleep.”

Shaking his head, “Nah, we see your every move, even at home. To keep tabs on you, Dominic recently installed video surveillance throughout your house . . .”

“Video surveillance? Are you frickin’ kidding me? So, I’ve got you and Jimmy watching me undress and take showers?”

“Roni, calm down. We don’t have access to those areas of the house. But just so you know, Dominic made it clear that he was the only one to access those cameras for his private viewing and has it securely encrypted.”

“Oh great, I feel so much better.” Rubbing my forehead as I feel the onset of a headache.

“So, here’s what’s going to happen. When you get to work on Monday, you will receive a package, it’s a burner phone and that is how we will communicate with you, leave it at work.”

“Okay. Package, phone, got it.” I count out each step on my fingers to remember.

“In a few minutes another van is going to pull up, the guy,” he emphasizes using air quotes, “you were talking to at the bar, will be dragged out and Jimmy will rough him up while I make you watch. Dominic can’t know about Dennis. So, we got a decoy. This guy, and Jimmy are one of us.”

I run my fingers through my hair to get it out of my eyes, “This is a lot to ask of me.”

“I know, I’m sorry. But I know you can do it.” He pats my knee for reassurance.

“We told Dominic that you were talking with some guy, and that we would make sure you didn’t do it again, that’s why we grabbed you. We will take you back to your car, you will go home and pretend none of this happened. Then you will wait for our instructions. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” This is a lot to take in, for once I’m at a loss for words. I fidget with a loose string on the hem of my sweater.

“Roni. I know this is a lot to process. But you want a whole new life, away from Dominic, a fresh start. We can make that happen.”

“And how do you know what I really want?”

“We’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, you know, big brother and shit.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal that my whole existence is on display.

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” I rub my palms on my jeans, trying to calm my nerves.

“It is what it is. In time, this will all make sense.” Marco looks at his smartwatch. “Now, it’s go time.”

<< >>

When I pull into the driveway, Dominic is outside smoking a cigarette; I hate that smell. He walks towards me and meets me halfway as I walk up to the house. He puts his arm around my waist to pull me close beside him, and kisses me on the top of my head. “How was your night out Veronica?”

He uses my proper name when he is being smug, and he knows I hate it. “It was fine. It was nice to get out. What did you do?”

We enter the house and he closes the door behind him. “Not much, just watched the game.”

He grasps my hand and pulls me close for a kiss. “I know you must be tired. Why don’t you go upstairs and take a nice, long, hot shower?”

I force myself to smile and try to stop the chill racing up my spine. “It’s late, I think I’ll go right to bed.”

“Okay then, I’ll be up later. I have some uh, work to do. Don’t wait up.” He smiles as he kisses my hand, looking up at me with eyes that are filled with pure evil. How have I stayed this long?

“Good night then.” I walk up the stairs, even though I want to run.

I grab my pajamas and go to the one part of the bathroom where I know I am not being watched, close the door and sit on the toilet lid. It’s there I can finally breathe. I lean my head against the cool tile wall, thinking about my conversation with Dennis. It makes me smile and fills me with a happiness I have not felt in a long time.

It gives me hope.

Happy Homemaker Monday 10.30.17

Posted on October 30, 2017 by Carrie Ann Alexis

Good Afternoon!! Happy Halloween!! Looks like a sunny but very chilly day for tomorrow, but I am sure that won’t stop the Trick-or-treaters out here. This will be our fifth Halloween here, and it still amazes me how many kids will come by. Last year my mom had gotten about 450 pieces of candy, and we ran out around 6:30 pm. That’s with giving each kid one piece. It’s fun to see the costumes, and it’s nice to see that kids still have fun doing this. The boys had fun carving their pumpkins. Check out FAVORITE PICS to see their master pieces.

Hope everyone has a great week!! We gain an hour at the end of the week. Woo Hoo!!

Linking-up with Sandra at Diary of a Stay at Home Mom.

THE WEATHER OUTSIDE IS:

RECIPE I’D LIKE TO TRY:

This looks really good. Low Carb Twice Baked Cauliflower. I’m not a big vegetable person, but I do love cauliflower, and with bacon? Yes please!! Found at Kalyns Kitchen.

https://www.facebook.com/LowCarbZen/videos/10155778399208908/

LOL CHUCKLES AND GIGGLES:

FAVORITE VIDEO FROM THE INTERNET:

I find this so interesting, and would love to do this. Elijah and I have been looking into our family tree, it’s his year long school project for History. The school has given us full access to ancestry.com so that we can research. But I think these DNA results would be even more fascinating.

WHAT’S HAPPENING:

Since Friday, I have been participating in a Halloween Hop on FB. What is a Halloween Hop you say? It is a group of authors/bloggers joining together and sharing their published works, and offering some giveaways from Friday until Tuesday. It is called a Hop, because we end our posts with a link to the next author to “hop” on over to visit. Follow all the links and it creates a complete circle, and you’ll end up back at my page. Here is the link to my FB page, I am offering a chance to win a paperback copy of The Box Under the Bed. Other authors are offering gift cards or some other gifts, to enter the giveaways, you just have to like and/or comment, it’s fun!!

https://www.facebook.com/CarrieAnnAlexis2017

It’s a good time for a creepy read!! Once all the candy is passed out, the costumes are put away, and the kids have come down from their sugar high…curl up with some hot cocoa and a good book.