Teach A Man To Fish

That is how Blossom became my mule.  Leonard gave Elmer a ride to the train station the next morning.  When he got back, Leonard told Jessie, “I don’t reckon we are ever going to hear that mule sing or talk.”  Jessie laughed.  “I think you may be catching on.”

Blossom became a member of our team.  She pulled a plow in front of Daddy or one of my brothers.  Momma and I rode in the cart as she delivered produce to our customers.  But she didn’t completely retire from show business.

I was mad when Momma said it was okay for Jessie and Leonard to do fancy riding on Blossom, but not me.  Turned out not to matter too much.  Jessie hit the ground hard after trying some saddle standing, and decided that riding sitting down was sufficient.  Leonard wasn’t too interested in anything dangerous in the first place.

But Momma did let me jump Blossom.  We kept the posts set up in the paddock.  Whenever we had company, she and I would put on a show.  I was no Elmer Pickett, but my talented mule never failed to entertain the guests.

On those occasions when there was no work to do, school, house, or farm-wise, I could ride Blossom.  But I had to stay within view of the house.  I really wanted to take her on the trails that wound for miles through the countryside in our part of rural Mississippi.  They were fair game if I was with a parent or a brother, but not by myself.       

This was when I found out I had a bit of Jessie’s rebellious streak in me.  I began sneaking off on Blossom rides.

 

There were very few times I could do that and be sure no one would notice.  Football games were an exception.  Daddy was a big Southern Mississippi fan, and Jessie and Leonard had both picked up the habit.  Even Momma screamed when the Golden Eagles scored a touchdown.  I did not share my family’s passion for the game.

It occurred to me that the rest of my family was glued to the radio for three hours most Saturdays in the fall.  The first time, when the teams were lining up for kickoff, I asked Momma if it would be alright for me to do chores in the barn.  All she said was, “Don’t wander off.”

Technically, I did not wander off.  I knew exactly where we were going.

Stokers Pond is a half mile from the farm.  I saddled up Blossom and led her out the back of the stable.  If anyone at the house looked out the window, the barn would block their view.  The breeze blowing through my hair felt like freedom as Blossom trotted into the trees.

Often, criminals are cautious when they start committing crimes.  But if they keep getting away with it, they tend to get sloppy.  They never see it coming when they get caught.  I thought I’d get away with it by being careful.  It never occurred to me I could be outed by committing a good deed.

My illicit riding habit eventually grew to a loop all the way around Stokers Pond.  We could take our time, enjoy the two miles worth of scenery, and be back at the barn long before the end of the game.  Most of the time, I had the trail to myself.  Even though a few of the locals fished at the pond, like my family, most of them were at home, in front of their radio.

On that fateful day, someone was fishing.  Although his back was to me, I recognized the outline of Grady Spencer, a neighbor.  I’d seen him before, standing in his jon boat, casting line into the water.  

If we kept going down the trail he would see us.  I couldn’t risk him tattling to my family.  I decided to turn around and head back.  Just then, he snagged a fish.  

It was a big one.  I could tell by how much the rod was bending.  I decided to let Blossom rest while I watched.   Mr. Spencer knew what to do with a rod and reel but a large, thrashing fish can easily snap the line.

After a few minutes of give and take, it looked like the man was winning.  He gradually reeled in the line.  That was when it happened.

Mr. Spencer dropped the rod.  I heard the handle clatter against the edge of the boat.  Then, he fell face first into the water.  

I’d seen Jessie and Leonard dive and jump off the pier at Stokers Pond before.  I knew what it looked like when someone did that on purpose.  Something was wrong with the man.  

I’d heard about people drowning.  It doesn’t take long.  The man was alive, I could see him moving.  But he wasn’t doing anything that resembled swimming.  I could tell, he was struggling just to keep his head above water.

There was nobody else around.  Without thinking, I jumped off Blossom, stripped down to my underwear, and jumped in.  I was a good swimmer and had no trouble covering the 50 yards to the floundering man.  That was when it got complicated.

Mr. Spencer easily weighed more than twice my 75 pounds.  His eyes were open and he was breathing.  He tried to speak but just made mumbling sounds.  I said, “I’m going to pull you to the boat.”

I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.  By kicking with my feet, I got us to the boat.   I held on to the anchor line.  

I wasn’t sure what to do next.  I could continue to hang on, and keep Mr. Spencer’s head above water.  But there was no way I could get him in the boat.  

And I had expended a lot of energy already.  Moving the two of us through the water was harder than I thought.  There was no way I could swim back to the shore with a man in tow.  I was stuck.

That was when I remembered I had the world’s smartest mule.  She was standing on the shore, where I left her.  I could see her over my shoulder.  She had been watching.  Somehow, I knew she understood what was happening.  I yelled.  “Blossom, go back to the house.  Get Jessie.  Get Leonard or Momma or Daddy. Get anyone.  Go!”

Blossom turned and began galloping back the way we came.  

I had one hand on the rope, and the other arm around Mr. Spencer.  I told him, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to let you go.  Help is on the way.”  

Leonard would relate the rest of the story later that day.  It was halftime.  The Golden Eagles were up by a field goal.  Momma and Daddy were in the kitchen, getting supper started.  Jessie was in the outhouse.  Leonard was hauling firewood in from the woodshed.  

He stopped when he realized the thumping sound coming up from behind was a fast moving mule.  He dropped the firewood and ran into the house when he saw the mule was wearing his little sister’s saddle.       

“Momma, Daddy, something’s happened to Madeline!  Blossom came galloping out of the woods with her saddle but there’s no Madeline!  I’m gonna go find her!”  Leonard ran out the house and jumped on the mule.  They took off, back down the trail.

To me it felt like forever.  More likely, it was ten minutes.  I heard Blossom’s hooves again, and looked over my shoulder.  I started crying when I saw my brother and my mule coming down the trail.  I told Mr. Spencer, “Leonard is here, we’re going to get you out of the water and to the hospital.”  He couldn’t speak but he nodded his head.

Leonard said, “Hang on Maddie, I’ll be there in a second!”  I heard splashing noises as he swam toward us.  

I said, “I’m okay but there’s something wrong with Mr. Spencer.  He fell out of the boat and he can’t talk.”  

With Leonard on one side, and me on the other, we were able to swim toward the shore.  Jessie arrived, running as fast as he could.  He was followed closely by Daddy, then Momma.  Jessie waded in and helped us pull Mr. Spencer out of the water.  

Daddy pointed and told Leonard, “If you and Blossom head down that trail you’ll hit Highway 350 near the Feed & Seed.  They have a phone.  Ask Mr. Hayes to call for an ambulance.”

Turned out Mr. Spencer had a stroke.  He was never quite the same but he did recover enough to go fishing again.  After that he always sat down in the boat.

Momma and Daddy were really happy I’d saved Mr. Spencer’s life.  And really angry I’d been disobeying them.  Outside of school and chores, they put me on house restriction for three months.  Daddy swore he’d sell Blossom if I ever did anything like that again.  The worst part was, from then on, I was required to watch football games with the family.