My dad started building our cabin on Bello Lake in 1958, which was the year I was born. Since he was a teacher and didn’t work summers, we spent the first summer of my life living in a tent on the beach while Dad worked on the cabin. I probably started fishing off our dock about the time I started walking. Sometimes my sister would fish with me, but I don’t think she liked it as much as I did. She often gave up on the fishing to spend her time trying to catch frogs or minnows. The summer sun rises early in northern Minnesota and sometimes I was on the dock by 6:30, catching sunfish for breakfast. We fished with whole kernel corn, right from the can. I don’t know why we used corn. Perhaps when we were younger, we needed help baiting our hooks and worms were dirty and wiggly. Perhaps the small nibbling sunfish couldn’t steal corn from a hook as easily as a worm. Perhaps it was just because it worked, and many a meal was caught using no other bait. Those idyllic summer days were often punctuated by the squeals and laughter of two little girls. “Look, Dad! I caught a fish!” He would often reply, “Atta girl, that’s a keeper!” He would say that even if the fish was small, and would make sure the young angler got that particular fish on her plate at dinnertime. Catching the fish yourself always made it taste better. He taught us at a young age how to take our own fish off the line, which was something few girls did back in those days. When company came, I had little patience for any squealing squeamish girl who was afraid to touch a worm or a fish. Somehow, time has a way of marching on too quickly. My sister and I are now middle-aged women and our children are grown. We go to the cabin often, but it is much too quiet these days. It seems like just yesterday, but my dad has been gone nearly 10 years. Surprisingly, his old fishing boat still runs well. My husband and I took it out on the lake today. He prefers bass or crappie fishing, but since I still go for the sunnies, he pulled the boat closer to shore so I could catch a few. A few raindrops started to fall, making circles upon circles on the water, and we startled a great blue heron from her own fishing spot on a fallen tree hanging over the shallows. It was early evening, the time when the noises of the north woods start to quiet down and the fish start to bite. Perhaps it was only the birds calling to each other, but just for a moment as I looked toward the cabin, I thought I heard the laughter of two little girls. “Look Dad! I caught a fish!” And quietly, quietly the wind whispered back: “Atta girl, that’s a keeper!”
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The Backyard Pioneer
The Minnesota Farm Woman 
Oh, what lovely memories… You are so eloquent as you share those special days – I can picture the lake, the dock, and almost hear the sound of your father’s voice. What a wonderful post for early June as we approach Father’s Day! Best, Emma Ann Weatherly
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Thank you!
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Chris,
How lovely! You bought tears to my eyes and gave me a big case of goosebumps. What a wonderful pre-Father’s Day post….I agree with Emma Ann!
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Thank you, Jackie. I must admit it made me a little teary-eyed to write it.
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Oh what a beautiful story and what an ending, I can almost hear it too. I too remember going to the cabin from probably the first year it was being built–and what a road to get there–did I say road?? One time Jim and I were staying there for a night or two by ourselves, course Jim had to prove he could drive further down, well, we got stuck and no way to get out–luckily we had told Arnie where we would be and he came the next day and between the 2 men we were able to get out–boy were we glad to see Arnie, no phone, no nothing to get in touch with anyone!! Chris you have such a talented way of writing, keep it up; write a book. 🙂
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Thank you so much! Maybe someday, when I can quit my day job…..
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My one and only visit to this wonderful place was more years than I care to admit but lives in my memory and I can call it forward with vivid details. It was the first time I had fished with corn. Remember the afternoon your uncle was on the lake in the canoe and tipped over when he swung around to look at loon. He kept grabbing at his wallet as that was where all the cash was for our vacation. Upon his safe but wet return to the dock he spread all that money out to dry. I remember blue berry picking. Then came that morning to leave. I climbed a tree crying and refusing to come down. There was something about that cabin and the wonderful people that inhabited it that I just was not ready to leave!
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I never saw so much miney in my life (probably all small bills) all spread out on the dock to dry and each held diwn by a rock. After that incident, I thought my uncle Bob was a rich man.
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One more comment re fishing with corn; I had NEVER heard of that so one day when Jim and I were going out just for the day, Ena handed me a couple cans of corn to take along–I knew I was SUPPOSE to take it but on the way asked Jim what in the world I was suppose to do with those 2 cans of corn, does she think we will be hungry and just heat up some corn or what???
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…so the corn was a family tradition. That’s nice to know!
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Oh but I’m crying at this one Chris. Cherished moments of times gone by… whispers in the wind.. 🙂
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That is what’s called “a good cry”. Thanks for reading!
Chris
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Such a poignant memory, and it instantly brought to mind a vision of my younger brother who loved to fish. The memory for me was of him at seven sitting with legs dangling over the edge of a pier on the Sacramento River. He lost every one of my mom’s steak knives to that river in that summer. 😉 I miss him. ~ Lynda
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Isn’t it wonderful that we can be sad and yet smile at the memories? I am smiling a lot right now thinking about your brother and those knives…..
Chris
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That is so beautiful. Thank god for those beautiful memories and thank you for having the ability to paint a picture in my mind of those two little girls and their dad
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Thank you, Sharon.
Chris
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Simply beautiful! Thank you for reminding me of good times with my dad who is struggling with Alzheimers.
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Such an awful disease, Laura. We lost my father-in-law to it about a 1 1/2 years ago. Blessings to you.
Thanks for reading. Chris
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That story is beautiful. Made me miss my dad. He was more negative than positive 90% of the time, but the 10% was worth having! It sounds like you had a terrific time at the lake house. I was also a 1959 baby- we sure have had a lifetime of changes. I was 4th generation Californian on one side (longer on the other) and here I am in New England. Meanwhile, my brother and sister in law (Theresa- she introduced me to your blog) are living in Spicer Minnesota on Lake Frederico. Okay, it’s not really called that, but that’s what he calls it 😉 .
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We did, and still do! Thanks for reading…and I’m already enjoying your blog! :o)
1958 was a good year, for sure!
Chris
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Wow- convenient typo- “I was also a 1959” . No, I wasn’t. I might wish it, but I was a 1958 baby. Boohoo. 😉
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ohhhhh Chris! We are sisters….must be! Daddy was also a teacher; fishing was his favorite past-time, and helping a local housing constructor in the summer was what kept him out of hot water with Mama. You’ve made me cry in a happy sort of way this morning, remembering Daddy…
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Thank you, Mary, We are alike in so many ways, aren’t we?
Chris
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Score one, mnfarmwoman, for making me misty eyed. Except for the cabin, we might be twins–born in MN the same year and loving to fish for a young age. And I still love fishing for sunnies. I miss living in lake country. Thanks for the stroll down memory lane. In my mind I was squinting in the morning sun as the sun warmed me in the cool morning air, and the light rippled off the lake.
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Thank you, Judy! I’m so glad you enjoyed the story. We were there yesterday…my husband working and me (somewhat guiltily) sitting at the endo of the dock, feet dangling in the water, and pulling in one sunfish after another. All catch and release, though…next weekend we will keep some for dinner.
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This is a lovely, sweet story. it does bring a tear. You share your dad’s gift for writing!
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Thank you!
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Chris, I wasn’t sure if it was you writing these stories, I could read all you have. Your writing flows so beautifully, keep it comin’…..
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Thanks, Larry!
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Chris, I really enjoyed reading this with my morning cup of coffee. I sure hope I have made memories for my children and grandchildren.
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Thank you! I’m sure that you have.
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You made me cry, Chris! You do such a wonderful job. I look forward to your stories!! See you in July.
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Thank you! Looking forward to it!
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