Many moons ago, as a very young boy, I was introduced to a man that I had no earthly idea would be such a good friend to me throughout my life. Here we are over forty-six years later, and we still remain the best of friends. I met him through another mutual friend who had strong ties to Midville. I will never be able to fully express my gratitude for being blessed with a friend that is the caliber of a man he has always been.
Mr. John and I could be considered the odd couple to say the least. He was a businessman from Birmingham, Alabama. As he always put it “they owned a little construction company over in Birmingham”, but the truth is the fact that it was way more than that. It is a Fortune 500 company that is well-known and respected throughout the construction industry. Somehow, he teamed up with me and I’m just an ole country boy from Midville.
Mr. John came to Midville to quail hunt in the fall and bass fish whenever he could. He somehow managed to tolerate me and watch me grow up. The years have passed by and we have grown increasingly closer. We have spent many hours afield as well as in a boat and discussed many things. It has always been an honor for me to be in his presence. I hope he gets to read my words, so that he can fully understand the impact he’s had on my life.
Mr. John went for many years without catching a big bass, a trophy if you will. The man has fished everywhere, but a trophy bass continued to elude him. He has had several giants hooked while in the boat with me, but for various reasons, they got off the hook. I have been fortunate and have caught a lot of big fish and I’ve never failed to remind him of that fact. It was all done in good fun of course…..
One weekend Mr. John along with Mr. Jim, whose wife happens to own an outstanding bass pond in Midville, were here fishing. Mr. John’s son Lyle from South Carolina was here as well. I enlisted the help of a local friend, Walter Jones from Louisville to help me take them out fishing.
We all went to McKinney’s Pond well before daylight to put the boats in and hopefully get Mr. John a trophy fish in the boat. Walter had the two elder statesmen in his boat and Lyle was fishing with me. We had fished all morning without much luck. We were all back by the dam, still fishing before we decided to call it a day.
I spotted a big fish in that crystal clear water and instructed Lyle to be still and not make a sound. I cast a plug to the fish, she just sat there, nothing. I cast again. I worked that old plug ever so slowly right across her nose. The water exploded! Fish on! I fought the fish and ultimately landed her.
We were grinning and I was getting the scales out of my tackle bag. I weighed the fish. It came in at 9.5 pounds. A nice fish! I got the camera out and snapped a few pics then gently released the fish back in the water. Mr. John was sitting in the other boat thirty yards away and never said a word. In fact, to this day, he has never acknowledged the fact that I caught that fish.
Many laughs have been had over that fish from years ago and fortunately, in the interim, Mr. John has caught himself a trophy bass or two. I’m not really sure how though? I guess a blind hog does find an acorn every now then. I’ve been trying to show him how it’s done for almost fifty years now, maybe it’ll take one day.
Mr. John acquired for himself what he called “a little farm” in southwest Georgia in the heart of quail country. He had owned it for a little while and told me all about it. I stood there wide-eyed! Then one day I got a call from him. “Could I meet him and Mr. Jim down there on Thursday evening? And be there in time for supper? Yessir!” The appointed day came and I made my way to the famed Red Hills Region of the state near Albany.
Excited was an understatement! I did make it in time for supper and Mr. John is an excellent cook! We ate and enjoyed some of Tennessee’s finest as well. We shared old hunting stories and just truly enjoyed each other’s company. I asked Mr. John if we were to only shoot one bird per covey, per man which is customary when hunting wild birds. He said, “all my coveys are big this year, so shoot all you want” Yessir!
I was not nearly as refined back then as I am now, I know that may be hard to believe. I was still shooting a twelve-gauge automatic. So, the morning came and we were off hunting. As we were taking off in the jeep the excitement was building up. The dog soon pointed the first covey of the day. It was thunderous as the covey exploded off the ground! I shot three times and killed three birds! I asked Mr. John if he was sure I could shoot all I wanted?
We hunted for many years at his place down there and we continue to fish when we can. He is ninety-one and is charging forward. We’ve had a lifetime of fun and fellowship! Last year while I laid in a hospital bed in a coma my friends organized a fund to help with my recovery. Mr. John sent a check to Midville. He’s never mentioned to me that he did. He’s like that, he helps folks and never says a word.
We’ve always called him “Bwana John” because he’s worn one of those hard, plastic hats like you wear while on safari. I mentioned earlier that I didn’t know how he teamed up with me. Actually, I do, the Lord saw fit for us to be friends and I will be eternally grateful. Here’s to you Bwana John!
