Benton's Books

The Wonder of a Child

(c) Copyright Gary L. Benton, 2004

The early morning sun was low on the horizon as I repositioned myself on the hard aluminum boat seat. A slight wind was blowing from the west and the stern of the johnboat danced on the water. My twelve-year-old daughter and I had spent the night before camping on the shores of Carlyle Lake, in Illinois (about 60 miles east of St. Louis, Missouri). We had arrived late and had made camp in the dark. This fascinated her, though we had done it many times before. It seems camping brings all the excitement out in a youth. All of my children had been exposed to the out of doors since they were very small. Dave, my son, had first camped when he was less than a year old. He knew nature and respected it. Lisa was the same. The anchor was secured and while we moved I thought of breakfast.

While camping breakfast was always an extremely exciting time for Lisa. She loved to cook her own food and to assist me with mine (she did all of this under my close supervision of course). She like to help even when I did not need assistance. Nonetheless, I usually designated her the chef for the trip and ate whatever she cooked with gusto. I do have to admit though, I was once hesitant to eat the lump of charcoal she pronounced with pride as a T-bone steak cooked medium. But, as a father I did eat it and covered my indigestion very well the rest of the evening. That morning however, Lisa out done herself with a nice breakfast of precooked pancakes, a few slices of semi-raw bacon, and three dark black eggs over easy, kind of. I had made the coffee and really felt a special bonding with my daughter. I think nature has a way of making people feel closer than they usually feel. By early dawn we were on the lake, anchored, and ready to start fishing for bass.

"Dad, should I use a top floater or run deep?" Lisa asked with her eyes as much as her mouth. I could see the excitement of the first early morning fishing cast in her.

"Lisa, why don't you use a top floating minnow lure that you can work along the weeds near the shoreline and I will use a purple worm on the bottom. That way we can quickly determine which depth is the fish are at."

The morning was boring at best, as far as fishing goes. Lisa and I talked a lot about my growing up in the Ozark Mountains of Missouri, farm life, and my earlier days of hunting, fishing, and camping. She loved to hear of the goofy things we kids always got into. I had to remind her often that we did not have a television, computer, electronic games or even a cd player to listen to. From the look on her face as I explained this, you would have thought I grew up with the Neanderthal man. I explained that we made our own entertainment and that most of the time it was harmless enough. But, we did, occasionally, get into some minor trouble while playing. The morning past quickly as my daughter and I fished and laughed. I still remember that discussion vividly. It was a special time, just for the two of us.

By noon we were back at the campsite. Lisa and I soon had our lunch of beans and franks smoking over the fire. I say smoking; because I knew her cooking fire was too big. The beans were burning. Some tricks of camp cook a little guy or gal just has to learn the hard way. She complained about the black beans in the bottom of the pot as he spooned them onto our plates.

"How come they burned like this?" She asked as her spoonful of blackened beans hit my plate.

"Fire was too large Lisa. A small fire is easier to cook with. You can control the heat better and it uses less wood. If you are ever in a place that has little wood or wet wood that is important to remember. Plus, beans have to be stirred often or they burn under the best conditions." I spoke as I added some chopped onion and hot sauce to my plate. I figured if I was going to get heartburn, I might as well enjoy the taste getting it.

"Well, in the movies they always have a huge fire while they are cooking. How do they keep from burning the food then?" She spoke as I watched her scoop up a large spoonful of beans into her mouth.

"It is just for show. See, in the movies everything is bigger than in real life. If a person attempted to cook on fires as big as the ones they use in the movies, well, it would burn all the food. Besides, the actors and actresses don't eat the food in the movies."

"I think I understand. Are those television-fishing shows the same? Or, is there a scuba diver in the water putting bass on the man's line so the camera's can film him catching them?"

I had to laugh as I thought of her comment. Where do kids come up with this stuff? I could see in my minds eye a diver in the water with a bag full of bass trying to hook them as the show's host made his cast.

"Lisa, I think not. Those people are real fishing professionals. They don't need a diver to catch a fish." I responded with a chuckled.

"Well, we might need one. Our morning has been terrible."

"Has it now? We were on the lake, got to talk, see and felt nature. I would hope you appreciated all of that."

"Awww, dad. I had a good time. But, I mean, a nice big fat bass dancing on my line would have made the morning much better. You know what I mean." I watched her speak and noticed how uneasy the conversation was making her. I guess I had put her on the spot. Her eyes turned down to her plate.

"Girl, are we going to talk all day or go get us some fish?" I said as I stood up. "Let's go get 'em dad." Lisa said and quickly was making her way to the boat.

The afternoon was almost an identical repeat of the morning. The exception occurred just before dusk. Lisa was using a floating lure near some cattails and I was working a popper near a fallen log that ran from the water up onto the bank. Suddenly, she gave a yell and the excitement started.

"I got something!" She screamed as the tip of her rod went down.

"Keep the rod tip up Lisa." I was enjoying this. I hoped she was able to land it. She was young but she had been fishing most of her life. She knew how to do it, if the fish would cooperate just a little.

"Get the net dad! Here he comes!" Lisa was beside herself with excitement. I had never seen her excited like this before.

Well, in a few minutes she had a nice four or five pound bass in the boat. Her whole being beamed as she held the fish up for the world to see.

"Nice fish Lisa. One you can be proud of."

"Yep. I am proud. I landed him all on my own." Her whole face was glowing with the joy of the catch.

"Now, what are you going to do with him? We can take him home to show him off, then eat him, or you can turn him loose." I asked this question on purpose. I wanted to see her response to it.

"I want to take him home to show mom and the Dave."

"Lisa, we could do that with photo's. If you take him home he with us he will die. So, that means we will end up eating him. Is that what you want? The choice is yours."

Long seconds pasted before Lisa gave me her response. "Man, this decision is hard dad. I want to show him off, but I don't want to kill him either. He's too nice a fish to die."

"Life is full of difficult choices Lisa. But, we will do whatever you want. Remember Lisa, conservation is the name of the game when it comes to our outdoors activities. If you don't preserve nature, well, one day we may not have it to enjoy. It is ok and legal to keep him, or you can turn him loose to catch again some other day. Make up your mind quickly because he will die soon if you don't. Then we will have no choice but the keep him."

That night during the drive home Lisa was just about to sleep beside me when she spoke for the first time in hours.

"Dad? Do you think I made the right decision?" As she looked at me I could see the sleep slowly creeping into her heavy eyelids.

"Lisa, there was no right decision. Either way it was fine. I am, however, proud of you. I think your decision was the best choice. That was a big fish and not many kids your age could have landed it. Even fewer would have taken photo's and then turned him loose."

As Lisa slept the rest of the way home I thought about my daughter. She was growing up. She had faced a difficult decision and made the one she felt was best. I think her decision was the best for her, me, the bass, and for everyone. I was glad she had not been greedy, thinking only of herself and the trophy she had caught. But, if she had kept the fish I would still remember the time we had shared. They were times of laughter, talking, and the sharing of nature.

My outdoors experiences with my children are what nature is all about. It is a time of growing and sharing. It is the making of memories that will live forever in our minds. It is the time for each of us, as responsible adults, to teach our children to conserve our great natural resources, so they can be enjoyed by future generations. Some day this summer take the time to invest in the future of our great out of doors, take a child fishing and watch the wonder of life come alive.

 © copyrighted by W.R. Benton, 2004. All rights reserved. This story is for the reading enjoyment of site visitors and may not be reproduced.  

Why is it women discuss things a man would not even consider a decent conversation.   A woman will spent a hour, just telling you how her hair was cut and how the whole house has to be repainted to match her new hair style...and man will simply say, "I got a haircut."

Oh, and don't forget operations!  Heaven help ya if a woman traps your buns at the kitchen table and starts to talk medical terms....they know ALL of the medications and ALL of the current operations.  Me, I know Asprin and having a tooth pulled...that's about it.  I take an asprin when I've had too much to drink and see the dentist when I have to..other than that I am woman medical knowledge ig-nert....and proud of it.

They'll spend hours discussing operation procedures, techniques, and (as far as I am concerned) plain bull droppings.  WHO cares if an operation was done properly or not, unless you are the victim or a member of the immediate family?  Now, don't misunderstand me, I want proper medical care too (especially what those fools charge us)....but to discuss (an obviously successful operation) for hours with the patient is beyond me...and they do it as if they were qualified to pick up something other than a steak knife. THEY KNOW IT ALL...but yet most are successful surgeons, right?  I think not.  And, most importantly....why?  Why discuss it?

I'll save my time to discuss important things, like coon hunting, deer hunting, bass fishing, sex, boob sizes, beer, and other important things in life. 

WR Benton

Who put the Honey in the Honey Bucket?

© 2005 Gary L. Benton

Let’s evaluate a word you may hear in the south, Honeybucket. I can assure you, it has absolutely nothing remotely to do with honey. Actually, it is quite the opposite. In the old days, or last night, depending location, honeybucket’s were used when it was too cold or wet for a quick run to the outhouse. Also, those individuals that are sick, pregnant women, or others that are just physically worn out seem to use them the most. Well, I have talked around the thing long ‘nough, so what exactly is it?

If you think of it as a crude and smelly portable toilet, you are almost correct. The thing is, well, how do I say this? Most honeybucket’s these days are large cans or buckets that a person uses for bodily functions. Now, in the real olden days, let’s say a hundred years ago, they had ‘em real some real fancy honeybucket’s. Often they had pictures of an enemy in ‘em. Let’s say y’all are British (heaven forbid they’re harder to understand than a Yankee lawyer) you might have had one in the olden days of that Napoleon feller in it. So, each time you used it, well, the Frenchman got himself a face full.

Sounds good, so far, huh? I know, you’re imagining your mother-in-law or ex-wife’s picture on that thing, right? Well, nonetheless, I can assure y’all they do stink…and that is if it is only used for number one. If-un you use it for number two, it’s Nadine hide the cows. Lordy, a honeybucket can get down right ripe and that is if it is only used over night. But, per usual, I am getting off track here.

To use a honeybucket, you have to have a real good sense of balance, or else you spill the honey. For most of us fellers, doing a number one, it ain’t that hard and does it matter if we are off target a might? But for the ladies, well, it is balancin’ time, Lucille. See, you have to sit on the thing, or get as close as you can. If you think of the honeybucket as a kind of crude redneck bombsite, complete with target, you’ll be close to what I’d compare it to. Only, the key is body positioning and the proper use of the legs. You must be clearly over the honeybucket prior to release, or it does tend to upset some folks.

Now, there are some social rules associated with the proper and formal use of the honeybucket. Always remember, number two is frowned upon and you are expected to empty the pot immediately after (And, emptying the pot immediately after use kind of voids its use to start with). I mean, if ya got to go, and if you use a honeybucket, then you have to empty it, why not just use the outhouse to begin with? The second rule is you never, I mean never, fill the bucket up to within one inch of the top. The person that has to empty it and it may very well be you in the morning will thank you. I would prefer to walk through a minefield blindfolded than carry a fully loaded honeybucket.

Always remember if you are visiting the south and have to, well, you know, you ain’t going to find no honeybucket within sight. No, it is there, but our social graces do have standards. And, those standards stated very clearly that honeybuckets are to be kept out of sight. Relax a bit, it is there, if y’all know where to look. Just look under the bed, or in the closet for the honeybucket. Both locations are typical for proper social storage of a Southern honeybucket and we Southerners are real stickers for social rules and all (That’s why we don’t spit chewin’ tobbaco juice on the floor when we go to the mall). We do have our rules of proper behavior.

So, the next time it is too cold or wet to run to the outhouse, find your buns (literally here) a honeybucket. Remember your balance, no fillin’ within one inch of the top, if you number two, you take it out. So far are y’all following me here? I have tried to go slowly and explain the whole shebang, but I know just as sure as Bubba’s beagle chases parked cars, some of y’all ain’t heard none of what I wrote. But, that’s ok, cause it’s your turn in the mornin’ to smell the honey--yep, you get to empty the honeybucket. Sleep well now and pleasant dreams, heah?

© copyrighted by W.R. Benton, 2004. All rights reserved. This story is for the reading enjoyment of site visitors and may not be reproduced.  This story was printed in WR Benton's Southern Humor Book, "Bubba's Dawg Might be a Redneck."

My writing site has a new layout and I've posted some personal information about myself on the site.  On the introduction page, about half way down, you can click on the personal information about WR Benton.  It will take you to a page with almost, I think, a dozen photos.  If you've got a strong stomach, you can click on the photos to see larger images.  I have some hunting, fishing, military and other pics on the site.  Along with some of My Likes and Dislikes (and we all have 'em).  Click Here to visit the NEW Writing Site Now.

 WR Betnon

I have updated my survival site and added about 20 more pages with items pertaining to how to tie knots, ground to air signals, first aid, and a little more. The section on knots is, I think, about 5 pages of the most common knots used in the field. The signal stuff is general signals and how to lay them out so they can been seen by aircraft. The first aid pages are how to apply bandages and wrap injuries.

I hope everone is have a great Holiday...I'm just kicking back, working on some things I ENJOY doing and relaxing. This time of the year it is hard for me to write much....but I have a little. Seems I don't have as much interest, though I have four books unfinished...LOL. I'll start on them after the new year.

My Vietnam novel, "It Don't Mean Nothin'" needs to get done first. I've been working on it for over a year and that is too long....after serving in Southeast Asia, I just don't have much desire to write about that part of the world, even if the book is very interesting. I need to kick myself in the butt and get it done.

Rambling again....LOL...my mom says a writer cannot write Hello in less than 10,000 words....LOL...and there is some truth to that. I was just asked to write a 600 word article for an outdoors magazine and it took me all day...because I had a hard time saying what needed to be said with so few words.

Well, take care, stay safe, and have a Happy Holiday Season,

W.R. Benton

From the Benton family we wish all of you a very Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year. May Santa bring all you need and half of what you want....so you'll still have hopes for the future.

W.R. Benton