Beach Day

It was a Saturday morning in the summertime, and Mama was packing up a picnic while Cowboy Fish and Poopsie got dressed. The day before, they had picked up fruit, soda pop, pepperoni, provolone cheese, and rolls from the Italian bakery. This would make a very good lunch. The siblings came into the kitchen ready to go.

“You guys have everything you need?” Mama asked.

“Yes. I packed up blankets, towels, and a change of clothes.” Poopsie replied.

“And I have all my fishing gear.” Said Cowboy Fish.

“Alrighty then, let’s get everything in the car and go.” Mama grabbed the bags of food and drinks with her children following close behind. 

They squeezed everything in the trunk and buckled up for the ride. Cowboy Fish was excited by the prospect of catching one of the huge fish in the lagoon. It was particularly likely because this year had been so wet. In years when the lake was low and the beach was long, the lagoon was small and shallow, but when the water was high, the lagoon was deep, and the large bass and perch were visible from above. That’s when Cowboy Fish suddenly remembered…

“Mama! I forgot bait!” He exclaimed. “Can we please stop at Smitty’s?”

“Sure. I can drive by those big houses if we go that way.” She smiled.

Mama liked to drive by those downtown mansions and admire how pristine and immense they were. She thought of the grandeur not with jealousy, but with respect for the marvel. She could ignore how all the wealthy people made their mansion-buying money when she was looking at those houses. 

When she pulled up to Smitty’s, Cowboy Fish jumped out of the car like there was a fire under him. He did not want to keep his mama waiting. He walked into the old bait shop, waved to the familiar gentlemen, and went right up to the counter. Smitty’s was what everyone called Smith’s Bait Shop. It was about the size of a large bodega and looked straight out of a movie, like Jaws. There was netting hanging from the ceiling, huge tanks of minnows, and an old refrigerator full of bait, and equipment displayed nicely around the shop. There were the same three guys working there, always. Mr. Smith, a man with a white beard and a scratchy voice, Big Jon, who was tall and wide with eyes that bugged out a little, and Slim Jim, skinny with a combover and horn-rimmed glasses. Big Jon scared Cowboy Fish, but he was actually quite nice; they all were. The crowd inside was usually the same, too, a bunch of older men who were bragging about the fish they had caught or growling about the ones they didn’t. The atmosphere was similar to that of a barber shop. 

“Whatcha need, Cowboy?” Big Jon asked from behind the counter. 

“One pack of night crawlers, please.” He answered.

The man opened the fridge and pulled out the container. He set it down on the counter, making eye contact the entire time.

“50.” He stated gruffly.

Cowboy Fish handed the man two quarters with a gulp.

“Now you be safe out there, young man. And be nice to your mama.” He said with a nod.

“Yes, sir.” He turned and ran towards the car, hopping in with a giddy smile.

“You get whatcha need?” Mama asked.

“Yup.” Cowboy Fish replied.

They drove off, going a little slower past the big mansions while Mama pointed out how lovely each one was. Cowboy Fish was in his own head the duration of the ride. He was planning his adventure and imagining all the fish that would fill his bucket. Poopsie and Mama’s talking became muffled background noise. He was going to make a big fish dinner for his whole family, and his dad was going to be so proud of him. He daydreamed about the joyous moment. 

When the car stopped, he was brought back to reality and scrambled his gear together. He helped his mom and sister with the beach bags and setting up a spot. They were at beach eleven, his mother’s favorite for swimming. It was hot out, and Cowboy Fish could already feel sweat beading on his skin from the sun. 

“I’m gonna check out the lagoon.” He told his Mama.

He grabbed his stuff and walked in the soft sand, past the lifeguards, to where the plants and driftwood made him feel like he was on his own personal island. As he entered the path by the trees, there was a cove to the left, and directly ahead of him was a bird sanctuary that was netted off. When he kept walking to the right of the birds, the path came around to the lagoon. Cowboy Fish had grown up watching Gilligan’s Island, and in the scenery of the beach, he was easily able to imagine himself in the show. 

He smiled down at the big fish in the water before setting his gear down and getting ready. He first filled his bucket up a third of the way with water for anything he caught. Then, he opened up his tacklebox and put his hook and bobber on, followed by one of the night crawlers. When he cast his line out, it did not have to go far. In only 90 seconds, he got a bite. Cowboy Fish squinted a little; the game was on. He let the fish pull his bobber down about halfway, dropping the tip of his pole close to the water. Then, he jerked it up, hooking the fish, and started reeling in the line as fast as he could. The fish was heavy and pulling hard. He slowed his reeling so the fish wouldn’t snap the line. Eventually, he saw it come to the surface. His grin split his face almost to his ears. It was a massive yellow perch, fat and beautiful. 

“I gotcha!” He cheered to himself. 

He was careful to get his hook out of the perch’s lip as gently as he could. It plopped loudly into his bucket. And his line was cast once again. Sometimes the fish bit quickly, other times it took several minutes, and many of the fish he caught were too small for eating. He had just thrown the third large fish into the bucket when he felt his stomach growl and realized he should check in with Mama and Poopsie. He gathered all of his equipment and his bucket of fish and made his way back to their beach spot.

“Mama! I got three big ones!” Cowboy Fish shouted as he walked over.

“Wow, that’s great, Cowboy.” She gave him a big smile and patted a spot next to her. “Poopsie and I were just about to eat. You hungry?”

“Very.” He sat right down between them.

Mama reached into the food bag and brought out a paper plate for each of them and the sandwich ingredients. After they each made their sandwiches, fruit was added to the plates, and everyone got a soda pop. They ate in silence, thoroughly enjoying their lunch. The spicy pepperoni with the salty provolone paired perfectly with the crisp sweetness of the sliced apples and grapes. When Cowboy Fish finished, he made sure to clean up after himself and thank his mama before re-collecting his fishing gear and heading back to the lagoon. 

This time, he did a little more exploring. He knelt down next to the water and looked at the plant life and all the fish swimming around, hiding in it. There were lily pads with little flowers and tall, bright green grasses visible on the surface. Cowboy Fish was fascinated. The family got the National Geographic magazine delivered to their apartment every month, and he had found himself very interested in geography, cartography, ocean studies, and various plant and animal life. He was a scientist in his own world out by the lagoon; not many others came around that way. In a world where he could not have many of his own things or spaces, this felt very special. Cowboy Fish fished on for another hour before quickly checking in with Mama and then running back. He did this a few times until it was time to go, and he had nine big ones in his bucket.

“Cowboy, why don’t you go put your fishing stuff in the car and then help me and your sister carry these bags.” Mama instructed.

“Yes, Mama.” He made sure to go fast.

They got everything in the car and felt the long day squish them down into their seats. Cowboy Fish yawned and stretched his arms up. 

“I hope you aren’t too tired for ice cream,” Mama said, looking back at him in the rearview mirror.

“I’m definitely not.” Poopsie said sternly.

Cowboy Fish and Mama both laughed. The car was getting hot, so he rolled the window down a little. The breeze was a cool caress around his face, and the smell was familiar. They were heading to Dairy Queen, the one on 8th Street. His stomach growled in anticipation, and his mouth watered. 

“Yay!” Poopsie exclaimed.

“Y’all know whatcha want?” Mama asked.

“Yes.” They both replied in unison.

They all stepped out of the vehicle and walked up to the counter together. The teenager took their order with an eager smile. 

“Hot fudge sundae with extra nuts, please.” Mama ordered.

“Buster Bar, Please.” Poopsie went next.

“Hot fudge brownie delight, please.” Cowboy said last.

“Sure thing.” Said the kid at the counter before closing the window.

Shortly after, the three of them took their icecreams to a nearby picnic table. Cowboy Fish was excited the same way an adult was every payday. This was a wonderful treat. Every bite made him smile and reminisce in the cascade of happy memories that had been made on days like this. These were the moments he would look back on when times were hard: the beach, and a big dessert afterwards. When he looked at his mom and sister, he saw similar expressions. They all smiled at each other and laughed. 

“Cowboy, you wanna finish the rest of mine? I’m getting full.” Mama said this every time they got ice cream.

“Yes, please. Thank you, Mama.” Cowboy reached for her sundae cup.

He didn’t know if she was actually full each time she did this, or if it was just something she continued because she knew it made him happy. Either way, he appreciated it. Cowboy Fish and Poopsie finished up and cleaned their hands and faces as well as they could with napkins.

“Alright, hop in the car, you two.” Mama was already halfway in herself.

The two of them followed suit, buckling up for the ride. Cowboy Fish looked out the window and watched as they drove by the buildings on 8th Street. Before they turned onto the next block, he was asleep.

He woke when he felt the car stop. They were home. He excitedly helped unpack the car so he could run in and tell his father how many big fish he had caught. He made sure to take his bucket out back, where he would clean the fish. Then he ran back inside to find Dad sitting in his chair, a newspaper in his lap, jazz playing softly in the background. 

“Dad!” He exclaimed, running up to him. “I caught nine big fish. This big.” Cowboy Fish gestured with his hands, showing how long his biggest was.

“Wow, Cowboy, that’s very good.” He gave him a proud smile. “Make sure you clean ‘em real good and get all the scales off.”

“I will! And I can cook them up for everyone tomorrow.” Said Cowboy Fish.

“That would be great, son.” Dad outstretched his arms for a hug, gave a tight squeeze, and then leaned back. “Alright, you go do what you need to.”

Cowboy Fish grabbed his tools from the basement, then ran out back.