August 4, 2010
Fishing, and Cutting Bait
I am between gigs, as the pipe-hitting jazzmen say, so what better time to return to my ancestral stomping grounds in Savannah for a few months? My brother has been suffering from unelucidated health issues, too, so I'm doing a bit of dual caretaking: him and my soul.
The key to wringing pleasure out of a coastal town is a boat, of course, so we've been ploughing light chop and glassine high tides, exploring them old haints. Primarily Daufuskie Island. It lies across Calibogue Sound from Hilton Head, and is memorable from the movie Conrack. The island used to be singularly populated by the dusky descendants of slaves, who spoke only the Gullah patois, and would sell you crabs, shrimps, and beer if you behaved your cracker ass. In fact, the Senator used to take us to the beach at Bloody Point as youngsters, there to pic-a-nic with the fambly, the feasts consisting of extremely sandy mayonnaise sandwiches, unsweetened Kool-Aid in Scotch-plaid Thermoses, and canned sardines and Southern Comfort in a Dixie cup for the old man.
As an aside, the Senator had considerable fun toying with me and my brothers over the local denizens, admonishing us: "Stay out of those woods, boys! There's wild ni**ers in there, and they'll gitcha!" Which fact was only half true.
Now the island has a hundred McMansions, yet fortunately it is still only accessible by boat, precluding the horrid rapine that befell Hilton Head, population density: infinity. One may still traffic with back island trash on Daufuskie, and the few remants of Gullahs who haven't been property-taxed off the island are still ebullient of heart, and courageous of soul. Those fuckers from Hilton Head run ferries there every day, however, and they covet. How they covet. Like paedophiles at a scout jamboree.
South of the marina, in the opposite direction of Daufuskie, lies Wassaw Island, best taken from the south end (like a good woman), then work one's way north along the tree-stumped beach to the north end, where the revelers congregate. South of Wassaw is Hell Gate and Petit Gauke Island and the true rat-dom of Bryan County. Lest one is red drum fishing there is no reason to navigate those waters. The fishermen are obstreperous, the crabbers bilious. If one is not of the first degree of genetic relation one is a provocateur.
It shocked me, really, how much I'd missed the salt water, having been domiciled in Deliverance country for so long. One cannot close one's eyes and inherit the wind of the mountains, but low tide, as they say, is forever. I'm three decades into gainful employment, and five away from my retirement monies. If honest work comes my way I'm alla in. If not, my Great Black Father in the District of Columbia has extended my unemployment benefits, which was kind of Him.
I am perhaps a true hobo now, traveling light. My only necessities are my fishing tackle, well-prepared meals, and vagabondage, should the right girl appeal to me.
Of course, even the wrong ones appeal to me.
Check this hallowed place like the Japanese soldiers marooned on some godforsaken atoll, hoping for a word from the mother country, always greeting the dawn, and hoping for the best.....
Glad you have not sailed off the globe, V- man....
Welcome back, O vex-ed heart. We missed ya.
Posted by: Amy at August 4, 2010 9:45 PMAw, it's just so lovely, and right, that you should write.
From here it's all about the salt air and stultifyin' aroma of the marshes-- the righteous ennui of primordial enervation.
It was almost too much work to write this comment.
Posted by: Joan of Argghh! at August 4, 2010 11:00 PMHah! So I see it's not just me who's checked nearly every day for new scribblings.
Though I don't get the impression you're back to resume educating us at your historical pace, it's good to see you back anyway, if only for a minute.
Be well, sir, and then stay that way.
Posted by: Patton at August 5, 2010 12:04 AMWelcome back V-man.
Posted by: rob sama at August 5, 2010 8:39 AMGlad you're back.
Posted by: slackjawedyokel at August 5, 2010 10:59 AM'Tis good to see you here again.
Posted by: Jean at August 5, 2010 11:41 AMThe wrong ones have a tendency to bring more immediate satisfaction, along with some awfully interesting stories once you jettison their tight delicious asses.
Glad to see you not dead/emasculated/crippled nor diseased.
Ahhhhh....at last, matey!
We hope you be checking in with the words of wassail and womens.
Primordial Joan gave me the lat/long of this latest from Georgia's favorite son!
Whew- wotta relief!
My literary needs are met again!
Hope all improves !
Posted by: markshere2 at August 5, 2010 8:11 PMRalph Lloyd C******d. Born Atlanta. July 1925.
Posted by: vanderleun at August 6, 2010 12:35 AM:D He's back!
(Tried to think of some smartass welcome, but none came to me.)
I too am glad you're back. The size of the group is hard to know, but the intense loyalty of the readers is clear.
Posted by: Guaman at August 6, 2010 5:40 AMCool Runnings!!
Posted by: Yabu at August 6, 2010 8:07 AMHappy to see you posting again, you are the canary in the coal mine. If you shut up forever I know that things have truly went pear-shaped.
Anyways, keep butchering the English language and regaling us modest peons with your crazy tales.
Been missing ya.
So, how's the fishin'?
Awfully glad to see you back here, amigo. Big time.
Jim
Sunk New Dawn
Galveston, TX
So really all this time you've just been gone fishing and baiting? You must be a master by now!
The V-Man surfaces! I'm as happy as a little girl.
Posted by: Jim - PRS at August 9, 2010 3:28 PMWe all thought you went away and the hogs are you, Cat
Posted by: Catfish at August 10, 2010 8:20 AMSo good to hear from you. Do what is right.
Posted by: Don Jr. at August 10, 2010 10:42 AMCatfish just called me to tell me that you're back. Nice to see you posting again.
Posted by: Denny at August 10, 2010 4:12 PMHappyHappyJoyJoy
Posted by: Tamara at August 10, 2010 7:34 PMHooray! And only just days after I started inquiring around for who knew your whereabouts!
You were confirmed to be alive, but it's good to see you're still kicking.
Posted by: Desert Cat at August 10, 2010 8:34 PMGlad to see you're alive and kicking. We out here do worry about you, you know.
Posted by: Luther at August 12, 2010 9:16 PMI read this post aloud, just to be sure I wasn't imagining it.
Posted by: Harper at August 13, 2010 12:16 PMWe can't do this just by ourselves, Vman.
Posted by: Dick at August 19, 2010 9:06 AM... fancy coming up to shoot any time soon?...... I've plenty of ammo.....
Great to see you back in the verbal saddle again. You and your words touch more then you know.
Welcome back.
Posted by: Guy S at August 26, 2010 9:13 PMGreat to see you posting again, man. As I ply the murky waters of I-71.
Posted by: Cappy at August 27, 2010 8:12 AMPraise Barack from whom all blessings flow; praise him blog readers here below; for fodder, puns and droll sea posts.
Posted by: Bob at August 28, 2010 12:33 PMThe Canadian Rockies are pretty, but a jug of
Woodford Reserve is fifty bucks. You can't get real Turkey here, just the 80 proof stuff......
I love the Vman's control of the kings english, even if they come on the changes of the seasons. I'm can't wait till november. I still miss Acidman :(
Posted by: Jim at September 25, 2010 5:33 PM"I still miss Acidman :("
Yes, that irascible bastard was a gift to the world. A sadly shortened one.
Posted by: Luther at September 30, 2010 11:26 PMI came by to see if there had been any recent sightings of VMan ... apparently not. :(
Posted by: PeggyU at November 6, 2010 3:47 AMAlle Kunst ist umsunst Wenn ein Engel auf das Zundlock brunzt.
Posted by: JohnB at November 6, 2010 6:59 PMFishin' season is over, and Thanksgiving is upon us. It's time for the quarterly update, I don't care what dog snot says!
Posted by: Jim at November 11, 2010 5:38 PMMiss you, man.
Posted by: rob sama at November 29, 2010 11:57 AMWhere in the southern hell you been? My dictionary is getting dusty! And I miss Tuco.
Posted by: Alaska Kim at November 29, 2010 8:26 PMAdd me to the Hallelujah Chorus.
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