On the wall in Mom’s workshop hangs a rod and reel that has been around as long as I can remember. Recently, we were in her workshop when I said, “Your rod and reel need to be dusted.” Then she told me a story that I found to be hilarious.

A little family background: Mom was the third of four children, all born four years apart, and the only girl. She has told many tales about the ordeals she suffered through growing up as the only sister. Such episodes include her older brothers nailing bottle caps on trees and telling their friends that their little sister could outshoot any of them. They would bet money on that fact, then threaten Mom she had better outshoot the boys.

Mom’s Rod and Reel Story

Back in the late 1950s, my little brother, Thomas, was around age 11, and I was age 15. We wanted a fishing rod and reel. We did not have enough money to buy two. Mr. Weatherby, the owner of the local general store and our parents’ friend, said he would sell us one on a payment plan, and we could share it.

So, we went in together on weekly payments with the stipulation that we were not to tell our parents that he offered the payment plan. We decided on a burgundy South Bend reel and a green fiberglass rod.

Thomas did not read the paper that came with the rod and reel, but I, being an avid reader, did. The rod came with an offer for a free engraved metal end plate. I sent in the paperwork. Soon, I received a metal plate and attached it to the rod.

We went fishing together for several weeks before Thomas noticed my name – and my name only – on the end plate. When he did, he got very mad. We fought for several days over it. So, we decided I would pay him the other half of the cost, then the rod and reel would be all mine.

I used my school lunch and babysitting money to pay Thomas the other half. I don’t recall if I ever paid him all of it. But I still have the rod and reel!