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May 4, 2001

My husband and my brother, Curry, cooked up a fishing rendezvous at Lake Whitney a couple of weeks back. Actually, Curry made the mistake of bragging about catching some monster catfish in a secret hole. When he said he was going back for more, Mel invited himself to go along.

The day before the big event, Mel was like a little kid getting ready for summer camp. He made three trips to the sporting goods store the night before to upgrade his fishing line and buy some corks, and was up the next morning at the crack of dawn.

The guys met at a little convenience store on the lake. They swept through, picking up ice, drinks, and a sandwich apiece and went to the counter to pay. Naturally, Mel insisted on buying, since Curry was providing the boat and motor.

Redfaced, Mel said, "You ain't gonna b'lieve it, but I went off an' left my billfold at home. I haven't done that in years."

Curry rolled his eyes and reached for his wallet. "Doggone it, you and Lyle do it to me ever' time. If it ain't my li'l brother, it's you..."

Mel apologized with all his heart and assured Curry that he had simply forgotten it, although my brother remained skeptical.

Later that morning, Mel said, "I remember another time I forgot my billfold. B'lieve it or not, it was when another friend and me went fishin'. It was me an ol' Sam Bradley—alias `Thunderjaw,' from the big city of Alvarado, Texas. He was a railroader and a fishin' legend shore 'nuff. Anyhow, we got off work one day an' went drift fishin' at Whitney. When we got there, Sam bet me ten bucks he could outfish me, an' he jist wouldn't take no fer a answer. I knew if I was gonna outfish Sam Bradley, it would take an act of God."

By that time, Curry had caught two fish and Mel had one. Curry said, "Maybe we ought to make that same bet." No sooner did the words leave his mouth when Mel's cork went under, and he pulled a nice catfish up. Curry said, "Maybe I spoke to soon."

Afterwards, Mel resumed his tale.

"Me an' Thunderjaw fished 'til 'bout midnight. The fish wuzn't bitin' to suit him, so he decided to get a li'l shut-eye," Mel recalled, explaining that Sam's sudden drowsiness must have been divine intervention.

"Sam had three or four fish in the live well, and I only had one or two," Mel continued. "He dozed off, an' 'bout 2 o'clock, I started catchin' channel cat right an' left. I caught 10 or 12—wham, wham, wham. 'Bout daylight, he woke up an' said, `We may as well go home. Fish ain't bitin.'

"I opened the live well an' showed him the fish, an' he jist about fell outta the boat! He was plenty hacked off at me fer not wakin' 'im up when the fish commenced to bitin'. We fished 'til about noon that day an' never got a nibble one. Thunderjaw hated to give up an' wuz reluctant to concede the bet. Said I'd done 'im dirty."

"You did do him, dirty, if you ask me," Curry remarked. "How come you didn't wake him up and give him a fair chance?"

"Wuzn't my place to wake a sleepin' giant an' let 'im beat me. Besides, I didn't have a ten spot on me. I'd left my billfold back at the house."