Our shoreline at the cottage on McDonald's Island was about 300 ft. from the channel bank of the Middle Channel of the St. Clair River. Since my mother was in her 70's and loved to fish for the big ones, my father built a long dock, right to the channel bank and the deeper water. Mother was 4 ft. 10" tall and tiny, so when she put her blue jeans on (in a time when women in general did not wear blue jeans) and her knitted wool cap and went to the end of the dock at daybreak she looked like a little boy standing out there. She would be the first one up, and out there fishing for walleye, bass or pike. She caught them, too; but was not strong enough to pull them in if they were large. So, she would holler my husband's name for him to go out and help her. He would dress, trudge out to the end of the dock, pull in the fish, put it on the stringer and come back to bed. No sooner would he be comfortably settled and he would hear her calling for him again. Same routine: dress, go out there, take care of the fish, etc. Finally, he just laid down on an easy chair on the porch and gave in to the inevitable. My mother knew no fear, and although she could not swim a stroke was not afraid of the water. One time she hooked a very large pike, which she was able to pull in and flop on the dock. As it flopped there, it got off the hook, got back in the water, and lay there a little stunned by its experience. My mother jumped right in after that fish, (swim or no swim) grabbed him by the eyeballs and scrambled back on the dock. She declared: "No fish is going to get away from me once I catch him", as she made her triumphal march back to the cottage to wake us ALL up and display her trophy fish. She must have been 75 or 76 at that time. Yes, mother was a strong little character who enjoyed life. Lorraine
