Photograph #41: St. Croix
I remember the phone call from some boss at BASS telling me that my column was going to be sponsored by a company and that I would get to meet them at breakfast the next morning at the Classic, “Two guys and their sister.”
My first thought was this, “There goes my career.”
My 2nd thought was this, “I barely listen to my seemingly several hundred bosses, no way I’m listening to a company for gawd sake.”
In my hotel room to prepare for the sit-down that morning I put my headphones on, dialed up The Rolling Stones: “Sympathy for the Devil” played at level 8 out of 10, took my folding cane that I use as an air guitar out of my luggage and danced around the room lost in the music and the worry.
Hit down button on the elevator, headphones still on high until the doors slide open. Some lady in there with me backs as far into the corner as she can get as Mick sings, “Please to meet you hope you guess my name…”
Breakfast with bosses and sponsors.
They tell me they make fishing rods; I sort of listen to that, but then they tell me about THEM, who they are and when they were done turns out I liked them, thought, “This could work.”
And for the rest of the time I was with BASS, it did, in fact work I still talk with and send Christmas cards to the folks there.
In fact, I visited the company once, somewhere way up there in Wisconsin, pretty area they took me fishing on the St. Croix river, I had to look that name up to make sure they weren’t fooling me.
Met the people who make the rods, very nice as well, watched at how they cared about what they made.
Just so happened I visited on “Donut Day,” which double sealed the deal in my mind.
Here’s the bottom line, the people who own the company are regular arse nice people, the people who build the rods are the kind of folks you’d have a good time with at a Friday fish fry at a local gin mill.
No one, NO ONE at the company ever told me what to write, how to write, or somehow slip in a mention of a St. Croix fishing rod in every story I do.
I still don’t look at them as a former sponsor.
I look at them, all of them there, as family.
ETCHED.
Photograph #42: Family: The Seatons
“Hiding the tears in my eyes
'cause boys don't cry.”
Boys Don’t Cry
The Cure
Honesty.
I had to start and stop this section three times.
The people you see here, Sharon & David Seaton, they were the owners of the FishTale Lodge in Paris Landing, Tennessee.
Every time I was in the area for a gig, I stayed there, got the big house there sometimes.
We became great friends.
David once took me on a four wheeler ride to show me land where, “When we retire this is where we are going to build our forever home.”
They did retire, they did build a very nice home and guest house where they always welcomed me and my roommates Paul & Shaw.
I once wrote a story about them, you can read by clicking their name up top of this website, it’s called: On Seaton Pond.
Sharon very creative, very funny with just the right touch of weirdness.
David, I would describe him as a Southern Gentleman but that only limits him, a Universal Gentleman is more like it.
David passed away recently.
It crushed me when I heard about it.
It crushes me now when I write about it.
And so, I have to keep this short.
Tell your friends you love that you love them.
Tell them you love them when they can hear it.
I wish I had…
ETCHED!!
Photograph #43: Family: “Daddy” Lee
He is simply called, “Daddy Lee.”
A master fixer of Skeeter Bass Boats…and just about anything mechanical.
For a decade or so on the Elite tour every Tuesday we would have lunch together. I’d swing by the service crew yard, pick him up and off we would go.
We are about the same age so we would spend lunch talking music, cars, motorcycles, growing up in Colorado, growing up in Buffalo, 1960’s television, just two guys eating burgers and laughing in a booth.
Easily over 100 lunches together.
Now, we have what I call, “Dinner with Lee,” since neither one of us is out on the tour anymore. The 1st day of every month I call him at his house in Texas at 7PM his time and we talk for an hour or so pretty much about the same things we talked about during those lunches.
The photo of him reading to the child was at the Houston Classic, one of my favorites.
Lee buddy, talk with you in a few days, I’ll call, 7PM.
FAMILY.
ETCHED!
Photograph #44: Patches
Patches
I am humbled when someone hands me a patch from their Police Department or Military Unit.
I’m always surprised that they would think of me, I just write stuff, but I can’t tell you how honored I am.
I don’t just toss them in a box, I frame them, all of them, working right now on framing more of the gifts.
Thank you for thinking of me but also…THANK YOU for your service, THANK YOU for protecting us.
THANK YOU FOR FREEDOM
Etched.
db
