Because I Had You | A Shawn Hunter Love Story

Grandma was a Rolling Stone

"Hey, guys. Mmm, collecting snails?" Mr. Matthews walked up on us collecting various snails from Mr. Feeny's yard against the fence.

Cory replied, "Yeah, Mr. Feeny said we can take 'em off his flowers and use them for bait for when we all go fishing Sunday."

"Fish don't eat snails."

Mr. Feeny looked up guiltily, "Gee, I guess I was mistaken."

"Well, whenever you guys are ready the bass master here is all set to pass on to the younger generation some of the finer points of spin casting."

Cory turned to Mr. Feeny as we walked over to Cory's house, "Manipulating young and impressionable minds. I hope you're proud of yourself, Mr. Feeny."

"Indeed I am, Mr. Matthews."

Mr. Matthews got our attention again, "Come on, guys. Now, the main thing to remember is that basically it's a simple flick of the wrist. You open the bail hold the line with your finger and then it's 2:00, 10:00." He flung the rod back and the hook caught on a pot, breaking it.

"Kind of a quarter after 3:00 thing you got going on there, Dad, huh?" Cory muttered.

Mr. Feeny curiously came over, "May a, uh, fellow angler try his luck?"

"Be my guest, George."

"Thank you."

"It's like getting back on a bicycle. One never forgets."

"Mr. Feeny, you fish?" I asked.

"Oh, sure. I'm an old bass hog from way back. I'll never forget that September morn, 1956. I was after small-mouth bass on the Louisiana Delta," he droned.

"Sounds fascinating, George," Mr. Matthews blanked out.

"Spanish moss hanging down and the cypress knees jutting up through the brackish water of the bayou."

"Sounds fascinating, George," Mr. Matthews repeated.

Cory asked, "Dad, how come Eric's not coming with us this year?"

"Well, your brother's discovered girls. He can't sit still. When you're Eric's age and you can't sit still, I'll take Morgan. It's the endless cycle of fishing."

"And what about after Morgan?"

"Well, then I'll just be some guy in a fishing hat with a lot of boring stories." We all looked over at Mr. Feeny, wearing a fishing hat.

"Did you just scare yourself, Dad?"

"Whoa, yes, I think I did."

--

"Hi Mr. Matthews," I said as we approached him in their driveway.

"Hello May, Shawn, you ready to go fishing?"

"Yeah..." Shawn trailed off. "Where's Cory?"

"His Grandmother had some sort of surprise planned for him, I thought he would've called you guys to let you know he wasn't going fishing."

"He didn't call us," I said, suspiciously.

"Well, don't worry! I'm still going fishing, you two are welcome to come along."

We followed Mr. Matthews to his car with our gear.

--

"Can I asked you guys a stupid question?" Mr. Matthews spoke up. We all sat on the boat, Shawn and I next to each other closely in the confined space, facing Mr. Matthews.

"Lay it on us," Shawn replied.

Mr. Matthews sighed and fiddled with the fishing rod. "Am I going to start to lose Cory to girls soon?"