The tackle box

I ran in to Scot Schellhorn at the Apple Festival in Gays Mills. Scot and I usually talk fishing when we meet. This was one of those talks. Scot was a little more excited than typical. He had inherited his Dad's tackle box. He wanted me to look at. I will quote Scot: "There are some really old neat lures in there of my Dad's and he thought he might sell them if I thought they were worth anything." I told him I would make time and come to his house and take a look.

Sunday morning, I drove in his driveway and found him splitting wood outside. He knew what I was there for and he almost jogged up his driveway to the garage to retrieve "the tackle box." He walked out of the garage cradling it in his arms like a baby. It had a handle but Scot carried it with both arms clutching close to his chest. From that second on, I knew Scot really didn't want to sell any of those lures. He just wanted to show me that special tackle box.

As Scot opened it carefully, I could feel Scot's excitement. He quickly found his favorite lure. He held it up like a prize and said: "This was my favorite lure." "I could catch any kind of fish in any waterway with this one!"

He went back to the corner of the garage and retrieves the creel and the "helicopter" lures. These were our big fish catchers. I could see the twinkle in Scot's eyes as he touched each one the lures and described them. At one time I could see Scot's mind wander to a long-ago memory. The twinkle in his eyes told me he was with his Dad in Hudson, Iowa again fishing, he was 10 years old.

There was one special lure that had glass eyes and he had to show it to me. He made me look closely at the lure to show a tooth mark on it. He said he didn't get to see that fish but it almost ripped the rod out of his hand. He could still remember the disappointment he felt from not landing that fish. He was just a little tike and his Dad reassured him there would be many big fish in his future.

That tackle box seemed to have an endless supply of lures and reels and many memories in it. This "Rocket" reel still was in its box and the price tag and manual were in there. It cost $13.95. Scot commented that some good line costs more than that today. Scot's eye brows raised, eyes big, as he showed this reel. Scot exclaimed, "The ‘rocket’ was for bass and huge catfish!"

Scot was truly caught up in the moment. He was showing me all the treasures his Dad's tackle box held. The Martin reel held many memories of days past.

When we were done, and I had taken some photos, I told Scot he was a lucky man to inherit such a tackle box, and if I owned it and it was my Dad's, there would be zero chances of me selling anything in that box. Scot smiled widely.

I watched as he put everything back in the tackle box. He was very meticulous as he did it. He wanted to make sure it was all put back in there correctly just like his Dad had taught him.

There is ZERO chance that Scot will ever sell anything from this time capsule of his days fishing with his dad. I checked back with Scot and told him I was going to include this story in my book.  Scot smiled and said, “My dad would really like that”.

Editors note: This is an excerpt from Len Harris’ book, ‘The stream of time’. This and Harris’ book ‘Brigadoon Creek’, are both available on Amazon.com.

Author’s note: I submitted this story to the Hudson Iowa newspaper.  This is Scott’s hometown.  The editor knew Scott’s family well and used the story in the paper.  I was contacted by many of Scott’s relatives and thanked for running the story for them to read.

For more of Len’s work visit; https://lenharris.blogspot.com, Small Streams Trout Monsters Club, or www.facebook.com/len.harris