I’m typing this after LSU won the national championship and it’s sort of hard to think of anything else right now. But LSU baseball is over and football is next, so why can’t we do it again and win the BCS national championship? We can.
But the best moment for me was watching the embrace of Paul Mainieri and his dad as they soaked in their lifelong dream. I think it was the best for coach Mainieri also; both coaches. It’s a great thing for a dad to watch his kids do well.
Last Sunday was Father’s Day and I usually spend some of it thinking about my dad, Jerry Johnson or Jerry Lyle as he was known by most of his friends. This one was no different. I took some couch time to bring back as many memories as I could.
Daddy was the father of eight children, six boys and two girls. His coaching ability was a little different area than that of Paul Mainieri. You see, he loved the outdoors and fishing was what he enjoyed doing most of all.
It wasn’t easy for dad to provide for us younguns’ and have enough time left over to respond to the “Daddy, take me-take me” moments, but he did his best. We all enjoyed fishing and hunting so the wealth had to be shared.
I remember my very first rod and reel daddy bought me. It came with a little tackle box that held about six baits. One of them was a red and white “Lazy Ike” and he took be down the Airline Hwy just south of Sorrento to fish in the canal. But I can still see us both standing on the side of the road and I’m casting that lure over and over.
One day daddy came in the house with a .22 rifle and a .410 shotgun and handed them to me and my brother Cliff. He chose the shotgun and I took the rifle. I remember the many times he took us hunting with our relatives in Galvez.
James Gerald Nickens always had a pack of rabbit dogs and Uncle Bernard had a squirrel dog named Whitey. We’d spend a whole Saturday out there rabbit hunting in the morning, eat lunch cooked by Aunt Rosa Nickens, Bernard’s wife, and take off and spent the afternoon following Whitey and shooting squirrels with that .410 shotgun.
Daddy and his brothers used to build their own boats and they would let us help, or at least that what we thought they were doing. They equipped one of them with a 7.5 hp Evinrude and he’d take us to the Atchafalaya Spillway, hit the 21-inch canal and catch all the bass and goggle eye we wanted on an H&H spinner bait.
That was back in the day before trolling motors were invented so he spent a lot of his time paddling us, unhooking our hang ups that were very many. Once he became a field surgeon, having to remove the hooks of a Tiny Torpedo from the head of one who will remain nameless.
Jerry Lyle was a good daddy. The scenario repeated itself when his grandkids came along.
Instead of “Daddy, Daddy take me” it was “Paw Paw, Paw Paw, take me”. I can still see the boat filling up with kids, heading down Chinquapin Canal for the ride of a lifetime. I’m sure they remember—just like me.
Next weekend my two daughters will come in from Texas and Florida with my grandkids and my son will join us all at Cliff’s house on July 4th with most of the eight kids and Momma to celebrate the independence of our nation. But without a doubt, Jerry Lyle and many of those memories will be brought up again. We will undoubtedly hear the words, “Paw Paw, can I…” only it will be us answering the question.
I know this might be a little different but every now and then a man ought to bare his heart.
Thanks for letting me do that and thanks dad for being just what your kids needed. Remember to keep the slack out and set the hook hard. So until next time have fun in the outdoors, be safe and may God bless you.
