This past weekend gave everybody that little ray of hope that spring was not too far away. Well, it is officially here but old Mother Nature is still letting us know who runs the show. I think everyone had a little extra spring in his or her step with the little streak of nice weather we had.

The boys and I moved the camper from the lake back to town. We had all the grandsons along and they made sure they found all the mud they possibly could to hang out in.

I guess when I was a kid it was normal in the spring to go in the house in the evening soaked, at least to the knees, with mud. That was part of the fun. The hard part was finding someplace to play.

If we played in our yard my mom would chase us out because we were tearing up the lawn and if we were brave (dumb) enough to play in my Aunt Ruby’s yard, which was right next door, and get caught it wouldn’t be pretty. One of the kids and I got into a little scuffle in her yard one time and we were rolling around on the ground. She came flying out of the house and started beating us with a broom. It didn’t take long for us to forget what we were scuffling about.

We would usually try to get a game of football going on an unoccupied chunk of property. With the sloppy weather it was an ideal (or so we thought) excuse to come into the house soaked from head to toe with mud. Growing up in the country, or close to it, we would sometimes run out of things to try and get away with, so the football games in the mud were always an option.

Now all the planning in the world was pretty much washed right down the basement drain with the first layer of mud when my mom would see me layered in mud and smiling like one of the Little Rascals. The smile didn’t last long, but the reminder of what not to do in the mud usually took a little longer to get over.

Now I sometimes think that fishermen are nothing more than over-sized kids. We can get excited over something that weighs less than a pound, we like to chop holes and play on the ice, we purposely buy clothes so that we can spend hours sitting in the rain, and can tell the same story over and over and every time we do it gets just a little bit better.

One year my neighbor, Gene, and I went to Spider Lake for some fall fishing. When we got there we set up camp and then hit the lake. As nightfall approached it got colder and started to rain. We had rain gear and were dressed warm, but when the wind started to blow the &uot;corn snow&uot; into my face and it felt like somebody was shooting me in the face with a BB gun, I didn’t feel like that little kid anymore. It was time to head in and enjoy the heat of the camper.

What makes us look outside and see the rain and know that it is going to be not only wet but also cold, and still we have to try it? The saying I have heard echoed by many fishermen, &uot;I don’t mind the rain as long as there isn’t any lightning,&uot; I have found myself saying those same words.

What do they mean? It’s all right to go out in the rain and cold and be miserable as long as there’s only a slim chance of being hit by lightning. Come to think of it, I haven’t really caught a heck of a lot during a cold rainstorm.

Now there is a small window just before a storm or a rain where the barometer peaks and then starts to drop when the fishing can be very good. The only thing you have to know is when that fishing rod changes to a lightning rod with a string on it.

Even after looking back on past experiences I am still ready to put on the rain gear and see if it can keep me dry. I think a person has a tendency to remember the good parts and push the bad parts to the back of the line. When I think of fishing, I remember all the times I’ve caught fish but have a tendency to not remember much about the times I didn’t.

I usually try to keep this column on the lighter side, but I strongly feel that we should all take time to reflect on the events that are taking place and show our support for our service men and women. Our freedom as we once knew it might never be the same, but isn’t standing up for that freedom what we’re all about?