The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1941-04-10
Turning Over An
Old Leaf
BY PHILIP A. GLADHEIM

ItIeIG were ldC6S W lOISSIS
There were fires of fear and grief
that are few forgotten ashes,
There were sparks of recognition
that are not forgotten yet"
Did you ever turn over an old leaf
and be thrilled at the sight of ten
der bloom? Well, this is the time of
the year to take a stroll. Hidden in
the past is quiet beauty, and all new
life comes out of decay and corrup-
ton. The miracle of the spring is
here.
The boys around town who like
angling are very "fussy" about the
kind of tackle they plan to use in
their campaign on the streams. How
different from the long ago when our
gang would scour the village for old
rubber which we sold to the junk
dealer in order to visit Granddaddy
Mason's Notion and Toy Store and
purchase for ten cents a line with a
big bright "bobber." And for hooks,
we would be insulted with anything
but the largest, because one never
knew when a real big fish would come
along. To this simple outfit was added
a stick of licorice, because it was an
unwritten code in our gang never to
let a fish-worm hit the water until
you had spit some licorice juice on his
"wiggly" body. AS for pole, a pen
knife applied to slender willow was
adequate; as for "sinker," just a short
stroll towards Weber's would reveal
some "lead ribbons" on the edge of
the railroad track, the remains of
torpedo The word torpedo" has an
entirely different meaning today.
can never forget Granddaddy
Mason. l believed in his latter days
he actually lived his youth over again
with us boys. He enjoyed the coming
of spring, because he knew his little
pals would be hankering around his
store, and with begging eyes ask for
an extra hook. Granddaddy knew our
language. He was the epitome of
kindness.
After an exciting farewell from
Granddaddy, in hop, skip and
jump we were at the ole fishin' hole.
Today one must esconce himself in
streamlined gas chariot, equipped
with camping paraphernalia, and oft
times travel so miles before finding a
favorite spot. Not so with us, for one
of our favorite spots is where Wilson
creek empties into Little Yough. And
on one particular day after making
the necessary purchases our gang got
down to real serious fishing about II
o'clock one morning. Aunt Libby Hyde
had already arrived on the scene, and
by her broad smile we boys knew that
her creel was getting heavy. Aunt
Libby's position among local anglers
has never been taken. She was a great
sportswoman, and held her own with
any of the men when it came to fish
ing. What fine thing it would be if
some of our modern women would
companion with their husbands on the
stream!
To get back to my story, Aunt Lib
by saw our gang approaching and she
said, "Boys, l have your favorite
place. If you will help me to relocate,
will turn the spot over to you" She
said this in such way as to give US
the impression that shse had "fished
out" that particular hole and she had
intended to move anyway. Aunt Libby
knew how to register an enigmatic
smile and make us love her at the
same time. Well, we got Aunt Libby
moved up the stream a short distance
and she began to tel lus boys some of
her fishing tricks. We were feverishly
busy getting our lines in place, rest
ing on branch forks, digging the butt
of the pole deep into the sand bank.
Then we sat back and listened to
Aunt Libby. 1t seemed all the spring
sunshine was in her face. Our atten-
ton was transferred constantly from
her to our lines.
Fishing was mighty slow that
morning; there had been but few
nibbles during the first half hour
And we began to suspicion Aunt
Libby for having eXterminated the
finny tribe, and she was telling us
all these tall stories to keep up our
morale. But when my line began
slowly to move out she became as taut
with excitement as we. Presently by
the luck induced by the inspiration of
spring, | drew my line and felt the
set of the hook Then there was real
excitement. Aunt Libby forgot all
about her surplus of avoirdupois, and
stood behind me giving out orders like
a coxswain on a storm tossed vessel.
The storm of excitement raging inside
me required just such a person as
Aunt Libby. Well, after an intermin-
able length of minutes Aunt Libby
said, "Pull him a-sliding in" | did.
1t was 17-inch brook. managed to
get him on the bank when the darn
thing flopped off. "Koonie" Whetsell
(now proprietor of Porter's Restau-
rant in Cumberland) fell down on top
of this shining monster and it looked
like a Greek wrestling match until
"Koonie" and the fish slid together