Saturday, July 23, 2011

Me and you, an open road, and fishing poles

This Saturday's song selection is from 1971. We lived in Miami, Florida then, and many weekend days would find us packing up the family, the fishing gear, cold drinks and  sandwiches and heading out to surf fish in the Atlantic ocean.

As much as I enjoyed the fishing, the feeling that has stayed with me most was the sense of joy and well-being that filled my heart as the narrow, two-lane road played out in front of us on the way home. I can still see my husband at the wheel, our beautiful, golden-haired little girls in the backseat dribbling the juice of fresh peaches down their wrists, and myself riding shotgun, bare feet propped on the dashboard. We were salty, sandy, sun-kissed, a little sleepy and, yes, slightly smelly, but we had fresh fish for supper, that much again for the freezer, and enough happiness to tide us over until the next time.

Today, when I place myself back in that time, in that car with the people I loved most in the world and the setting sun shining through the windshield, I hear this song playing on the car radio:

"Me and You and a Dog Named Boo" by Lobo
Video posted on YouTube by rwells47 (thanks!)


  1. Maybe I was there in spirit! Seems so familiar to me, my life, and the love of fishing, long narrow roads, the people I love, good music, and beautiful sunrises and sunsets! I can still smell the air (from my near ocean living experiences - GULF of Mexico of course) and hear the seagulls as I was waking each morning. Snifffff, yep, I still smell the salt air, fish, and the water - oh now I just heard the waves crashing. Thanks for reminding me of all this!
    Love Ya!

  2. Laura, you may have been there in spirit, and I KNOW you were there in your daddy's heart. I love you, too.

  3. I read your blog a lot, and I have to say this is my favourite post to date. I live in Canada, but cherish memories so similar to the ones you recall. For much briefer periods of time of course (the kind of weather required for riding shotgun in bare feet is rather limited here) but I feel good just thinking about them. Thank you for this evocative post.

  4. SDC, I'm late seeing your comment but so happy that you left it and let me know you liked the post. Isn't it nice that it's the little moments in life that we ultimately remember so fondly? Especially since we have so many more little moments that big ones.


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