Noyce Bruton, my Uncle Huck to me, passed away peacefully last night at age 87. He was the last of my Dad’s brothers and sisters and his wife passed away in the summer, so my first cousins and I were all the family he had left in the world when he died. We did our best for him and I think he died knowing that he was loved and supported.
I can’t think too straight right now, but I knew it was coming. So a while back I looked up something that I wrote here back sometime in the 90’s about him and thanks to Niner it was saved on our site.
BKB
The Fishing Gift
Posthole
The Fishing Gift
By Posthole (Oklahoma)
I imagine you've heard the saying 'Give a man a fish and he can feed his family for a day. Teach a man to fish and he can feed his family for a lifetime' or something quite close to that. I really think it should be amended for the 90's to something like 'Give a man a fish and he can feed his family for a day. Teach a man to fish and he'll be divorced and feeding two families in no time'. But anyway, I've been thinking a lot lately about my Uncle Huck, and all the things he did for me when I was a boy.
My Dad had a stroke when he was 23 years old that left him paralyzed, speechless, and pretty much a recluse. I was one at the time. It took him several years to recover to the point where he could read, write, talk, walk, everything, but I'm happy to say that considering his handicap, he's always been as great a Dad as anyone could ever wish for. I'm very proud of him.
My Dad and his three brothers all grew up in rural Arkansas on a large farm that is still today about 10 miles from the nearest paved road. I take my kids there every spring for a week long camping trip and we visit whenever we can. Like most families of that time, the brothers were all avid hunters and fishermen, although most of us would find their methods and zeal for taking game a bit unethical. In the context of the time though, I think they were just a normal bunch. With my Dad laid up and my Mom having to scrape by on a meager Veterans benfits check, my uncles, particularly my Uncle Huck (real name was Noyce, but all of us neices and nephews called him Huck) stepped in to fill the gap and to supply me with all the male father-figures one could ever want in their life. It made for a great childhood, and I'll be eternally grateful for the time they shared with me and the things they taught me.
I guess the first fishing trip of my life was when I was around three years old. I can remember it like it was yesterday. My Uncle Huck and I went perch jerking in the Fourche La Fave river in an old, wooden homemade boat that was built by my great-uncle Buster, a lifelong bachelor who we called The Old Man of the Mountains, which is a complete whole other story. I can remember the big, yellow bellies on the perch, the dark, splotchy colors of the goggle-eyes, and the beautiful colors of the sun perch we caught that day. I must have caught a million of 'em. That experience hooked me for life on fishing, and was the first of many fishing trips that my Uncles Huck and Buster took me on. It wasn't until I was about sixteen that I overheard my Uncle Huck telling the story to my other uncles after supper one night that I finally understood what had happened that day. I had thought I'd caught several fish, but actually I had just caught the same two or three fish over and over and over again. I guess fishing was slow that day and Uncle Huck, wanting and knowing what it would take to get keep me really interested in fishing, would pretend to drop the fish back in the water and say 'Let's wait for a big one'. Only he'd still be attached to my line and in a second or two the fun would begin all over again. It's a cherished memory, and to this day my uncles, all in their seventies now, all get a big laugh out of it at my expense.
When I take my boys to the Fourche and they are flailing away at the water, bitching about the fish not biting, but having the times of their lives, none of it bothers me, because most of the time I'm thinking back on those great days on the Amos hole, the Key hole, or the Long hole with my Uncle Huck.
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Originally Posted by BarryBobPosthole
