Black Dell

Hot early, and I needed to make the extra trip to town. Laundry, Big Lots, a beer at the pub. Reading Carter material at the museum, where the AC is free, and about ready to head home when Anthony showed up. D had said he might. Back to the pub for another beer. I love talking with Anthony. He's not only the best potter I know, but he's interested in everything, and the conversation is all over the place. Yesterday he was helping to build a hybrid wood-fired kiln outside of Cincy. He's been away for a year, teaching to cover a friend's sabbatical, made good money, now drawing great unemployment while he looks for another job. I'd like for him to be around here, I'd give him a piece of land and help him build a small house and a kiln. At any rate, I got to town early enough that there was still fog on the river, so I went below the floodwall, listening to tugs pushing barges that I couldn't see. We amuse ourselves. Steve Bob turns to Tom Bob, they're sitting on upturned five-gallon buckets, and they have chicken guts with a three ounce weight, out in the edge of the current, hoping to catch a very large catfish, Steve Bob says something about the accommodations, Tom Bob is already pissed, he not only doesn't like the accommodations, but hates the future. (He grows on you though, and I like his attitude). Turns to Steve Bob, and whispers something about the circumstance. They're fishing with very large deep-sea rods, 80 pound-test nylon line. This kind of fishing is mostly about waiting, laconic conversation, eating Vienna Sausages, smoked oysters, saltines. Steve Bob gets a strike, or what passes for a strike, his line starts snaking upstream. Patience is everything, you don't so much 'set' the hook as wait for the fish to swallow the bait. Catching a large catfish is a lot like foul-hooking a discarded kitchen appliance. You haul back, and gain a few yards, it's traditional to curse. Generally the cursing gets increasingly complex until, at the end, there's a quality about it that transcends language, a cascade of profanities. You don't net or gaff a fish like this, you just tire it out and tug it into the shallows, then grab it by the gills and pull it up onto dry land. You can't really eat these, as they come from a sewer, so it's usually catch and release, but if you have pool of spring water and feed them cornmeal for a few weeks, you can make a gumbo.