I was reminded of a cute event that took place back in the mid-1970s when a distant cousin I never knew existed contacted me recently.
My dad’s youngest brother, Uncle Martin, had four children of which one was named after him and nicknamed Marty.
Marty had a son who also had a son and that grandson called me out of the clear blue while I was at work dispensing items for Afghan refugees here at Fort Dix, N.J.
Travis Dykes had retrieved my number from a relative upon finding out I was working and staying not far from where he lives. He is a young father of two and youth pastor at Whiting Bible Church
I was thrilled to get to meet via the phone call a cousin I never knew I had!
After we shared a brief history and profile of each other, I told him in detail of his great grandfather and my uncle, Martin Dykes.
We had stayed in his home for a few weeks in Fontana, Calif., when I was an adolescent boy, as Dad had moved us out west seeking employment back in the early 1960s.
Those were the days of the Beach Boys singing, “I get around, get around...,” and while in their home I enjoyed my first real tacos made from scratch!
All three of his grandfather Marty’s siblings were still single and accounted for in that house, and life was grand.
Uncle Mart worked and retired from the Kaiser Aluminum plant there in Fontana, and years later when I was a pastor out from Collins, he and Aunt Tavey stopped in for a week to visit me.
The small population of Covington County, around 20.000, was even smaller back then, but my pastorate there was memorable and made even more so by my uncle’s and aunt’s visit. Both are gone now but these two sweet people will always be in my heart.
Uncle Mart loved fishing, so I took him and his little dog Shorty to nearby Lake Mike Connor to white perch fish.
Uncle Mart did not go anywhere without his little buddy, Shorty.
Shorty was his pride and joy, and while we were sitting in the boat with our poles out waiting on a bite, we noticed Shorty scratching feverishly.
Uncle Mart laid his pole down to examine Shorty and let out a gasp upon discovering the problem. The little mixed breed was covered in ticks!
I can never forget Uncle Mart going into a frenzy picking ticks off of Shorty, muttering consoling words to the little dog and tossing the small black pests over into the water.
The fish were not biting, but the ticks were — all over Shorty’s little body!
I am not exaggerating, the water around us looked like somebody had sprinkled a whole can of black pepper out as ticks were floating en mass all about the boat.
I don’t remember landing many white perch on that day afloat on Lake Mike Connor, but I will always remember Shorty, and Uncle Mart coming to his rescue.
Thought you would enjoy my fishing story that got interrupted by ticks and a dog named Shorty!
God bless you and God bless America.
