At least once a year, we'd go down to Aunt Ginny and Uncle Jack's. They lived in rural Arkansas just up the road a bit from the farmhouse my mom grew up in. They went to the same church Mom and all the aunts had attended (and some had gotten married in). My cousins lived about half a mile down the road from Aunt Ginny's and Keith and Jody would come over to play all the time.
There were lots of old toys in the house--funny things like Bozo the Clown coloring books and Howdy Doody picture books and (these weren't actually toys, but they were funny) dolls that sat on top of rolls of toilet paper. But when you get two boys (K & J) and two tomboys (Steph and me) together, you always seem to end up romping around in the great outdoors.
Right across from the yard was a big pond stocked with fish. Keith and Jody had real fishing rods, but when we couldn't borrow extras from the neighbors, I'd just tie a line around a stick, bait it, and wait for the fish to bite. And they did.
I can't remember ever eating the fish we caught (I'm not sure if we were even allowed to), but it didn't matter one bit. The point was the fun we had--and, of course, catching the biggest fish.
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