We don't go fishing much anymore!

Thoughts of the impending Halloween took me back to a time when life was simpler. Before Fall Festivals and Spring Flings, we had good, old Halloween carnivals. It was holsum, family fun that disrupted school and brought the community together for an exciting time that left an impression on my brain like a fat man walking through the marsh. The buildup for the carnival was huge. Everyone wanted to know what you were going to be. My parents often opted for the "all-in-one" costume from B&W Merchandise, as Wal-Mart did not exist in our town. The body of the costume was a flimsey plastic outline with no real definition. The mask was a hard plastic and looked exactly like Casper the Ghost, if that was your wish. The mouth cut-out was just big enough to slip out your tounge, and just sharp enough to slice it. The rubber band, which held the mask to your face, would eventually be used to "pop" the back of your head by one of your best buddies.

Our carnival always began with a Frito Pie supper. We made over it like it was a rib-eye steak. Some kid always spilled their drink, and possibly their Frito Pie, just as they were coming out of the lunch line area. I'm sure it ticked off the janitor, but the rest of the crowd thought it was the greatest thing since Willis Powell fell of the risors during the PTA chior concert. Finishing the meal meant it was time to head out to the variuos activities included in the carnival.



The long lines were always at the Spook House and the Cake Walk. I mean, who wouldn't want to see Gorial Sanches' dad sit up in a coffin or haul around a German chocolate cake for the rest of the evening? While I can see why those rooms were a hit, you were never assured that you were going to win. The Cake Walk was actually just the forerunner to the Lottery. You only had a 1 in 30 chance to win. I found myself more attracted to the "sure thing." This meant heading over to the first grade wing for a visit to the Duck Pond and The Ol' Fishin Hole.

In the Duck Pond, you simply grabbed a floating yellow duck from some kids plastic swimming pool and flipped it over. You either "won" a small, medium, or large prize. You could not lose. At The Ol' Fishin Hole, you slung a cane pole with a clothes pin tethered to the end over some bed sheets strung across the room. Of course, behind those sheets were a bunch of mothers crouched down near laundry baskets of plastic prizes. They'd grab your clothes pin and hook it up with a toy. For extra authenticity, they'd even yank your string just abit to let you know you had a bite. Again, this was a sure thing. You simply could not lose.



Just once it would have been neat to see a mother attach a live rattlesnake or something to the fishing pole for a kid to pull over the sheets. From then on, that game would have been a game of chance. And from where I sit, the people would have loved it.

You see, we don't go fishing much anymore. We fell to recognize that sometimes, a sure thing is a good thing. In my business, I find that many people rather take a chance than "settle" for a sure thing, even when the sure thing is equal to that result that the chance can offer. I'm continually amazed at how easily we'll go away from what has worked to taking a flying leap at an opportunity with very little history of success. Everyone seems to want to hit the homerun, when often, it's singles that win the game. Scripture tells us to work and make use of our hands. It tells us that the wise does not chase fortune by chance. I'm pretty sure I know what that means. It means I'm going to do more fishing. I'm going to be more content with the sure thing. And based on all the blessings I've received in the past, there's a good chance that it will all be preceeded by a Frito Pie. I think I can live with that. How about you?

Spook to you later.

Little Boze