Croppie

Samuel Fox back his Ford slowly into the water.  The boat behind it began to float in the slosh of the lake. With a grunt, Samuel climbed out of his truck and half waded half climbed over to his boat, unlatching it from the car and its carrier.  With a jerk he pulled a rope through around, across, and under fastening the boat to the small dock.  Samuel then walked back to his truck and parked.  In five minutes he was passed the no wake zones and nearing a small island in the lake.  He wanted relatively shallow waters.  With a flick of the wrist, a line was cast and Samuel waited for a bite. It probably wouldn’t take too long, summer months were good for Crappie out on Truman. He could see the dam behind him, and somewhere near that was the museum where children would go on field trips where they would see everything and learn nothing. There were too many barricades in museums. It was not like that on the lake. Sometimes you just have to poke things. How are you supposed to understand something unless you can experience it with all your senses? We have five for a reason, they are supposed to work at the same time. To see men on TV, to hear their voices, was not to know them.

Truman Lake