Reflections ►
HOW I ’ LL CELEBRATE WHEN CANNABIS IS REMOVED FROM THE FEDERAL SCHEDULE .
by Dolores Halbin , contributing writer
When I write about cannabis reform , I do a lot of backtracking and changing verbs . All words have power , but verbs , wow , are the power plant . I have to change would to will , hope to faith , ifs to whens . So , WHEN cannabis comes off the schedule this summer , I ’ ll get the neighbor kid that used to live here and tell him the house , my fur family , and my chickens are his for a month . Then I ’ ll pack my tent , hammock , lawn chair , and of course , my fishing pole and head to the river .
Before Gene and I had kids , we canoed the rivers of Missouri and Arkansas at least once a month , weather permitting . If we only had time for a day trip , we would head to The Little Niangua in Central Missouri , the closest river to us . The last time we canoed that river , I was seven months pregnant with our firstborn in 1976 . We took Gene ’ s little brother and our dog , Dipper . Deciding ten miles was too short , we chose the 17-mile trip . Toward sunset , the folks we had been floating alongside all day yelled from the bank , offering to share their camp space with us . The smell of roasting hotdogs from their campfire made our mouths water . We were hungry . The dog had tipped the canoe over in the first hour of the day , so we didn ’ t have any food . The bigger problem — we weren ’ t camping .
As fortune would have it , we did have a full moon that night . We reached the take-out sometime after 10 p . m . The park services called off the search , and two of them wedged me and my belly out of the canoe after sitting in the middle seat for six straight hours while the guys paddled .
The memory , however , isn ’ t of the leg cramps or the growling stomachs ; it is of the shadow beauty . As the riverbanks and bluffs slid by under the moonlight , I just kept thinking , “ Wow , how lucky can one woman get .” The river at night is just something we never get to see , not intentionally . If anyone ever does want to make an entire moonlit canoe trip , sign me up !
Anyway , that ’ s where I ’ m going . I ’ m going to find a quiet place on that river where the water is still enough to cast a line , with the frog song to sleep by and the stars as a blanket through the open netting of my tent . I ’ m going fishing .
I made fish friends a few years back . I watched a dozen fish grow up in our swimming hole down at the old farm , including a lovely pair of colorful sunfish . We had literally just stocked the lake when the sky opened , and we got enough rain to wash out the dam . The baby fish rode the current to the creek , and when the water settled , there were a dozen little fish trapped in our new , formed by the flood , swimming hole . The flood also washed out the cattle fence , so we could float the entire creek for the first time since I was a kid . I would tube into that still pool and stand on a ledge that kept my head and shoulders above the crystal-clear water .
I went to the swimming hole every evening , and those fish grew up with me . They would swim between my knees and around my ankles and nibble at my toes . They loved red toenail polish . There isn ’ t a lot of red in the world of creek fish , so my toes were like a traveling art gallery for fish .
I like to cast a line and watch it drift across the water . I like to feel when the fish grab hold and tug . I don ’ t use a hook . I tie little red knit bags of cat food on my line . The fish must work for their snacks . You catch crawdads this way , too . They grab on to the netting and won ’ t let go . Fish do almost the same thing , except they let go when you pull the line out of the water . I don ’ t do this in popular fishing holes .
When our kids were little , we would visit my husband ’ s grandparents ’ farm in Southern Illinois . All day long , they would ask their greatgrandpa if they could go fishing in his well-groomed pond surrounded by five rows of cedar trees he had planted , one row for each grandchild . Not yet , he would say , right up to 5 p . m . Then he would announce , “ It ’ s time , grandsons . Let ’ s go fishing !” It only took about 30 minutes for these two little boys to catch a bucket of fish .