What Do You Miss? Revisited


Not much, do I miss seeing in the Philippines but there are a few things.

A Southern Style Bait and Tackle Shop is one that I would like to see. Crickets chirping up a storm, Minnows swimming in tanks, barrels filled with moist dirt and thousands of worms, Artificial Bait and Lures, Rods & Reels, Cane Poles, Bobbers, Hooks and an old chest type cooler loaded with ice cold Beer, Coca Cola and Buffalo Rock. Coke, no Pepsi!


Do not forget the snacks. Cans of Possum Sardines, cans of Libby’s & Armour Vienna Sausage, cans of Armour Potted Meat, cans of Libby’s Corned Beef, boxes of Saltine Crackers, loaves of Merita Sandwich Bread, packages of Lance Cheese Crackers, packages of Lance Peanut Butter Crackers, bags of Golden Flake Potato Chips, Lance Red Skin Peanuts, Fritos, packages of Slim Jim and jars on the counter with Pickled Eggs, Pickled Sausage and Pickled Pig Feet. I am ready now to go fishing.


The Bait and Tackle Shops in the Southern USA were not only places to buy your fishing needs but it was a meeting up place to shoot the breeze. To get the latest low down, latest gossip, talking sports, chewing tobacco together and spitting into that brass spittoon, talking about the new sexy lady who moved to town and plain ole story telling. There was always a pot of coffee sitting on top of the pot belly wood stove when the weather was cold. Help yo self. During the hot weather, it was Pop a Top time and have a cold Beer. Falstaff was the House Beer but other brands were available, including Sterling, Pabst Blue Ribbon and Miller High Life.


The radio was not played loud but you could hear the songs of Buck Owens, Merle Haggard, Johnny Cash, George Jones, Tammy, Loretta and the other popular C&W singers of the day.

I do not miss the old time Bait and Tackle Shops that much but it would be nice to revisit one. Will have to wait until my next trip to rural Florida, whenever that is. However, I realize that it will never be the same, so no need to really miss something that no longer exists! All those good singers, except Loretta Lynn, are now in Hillbilly Heaven. So are Billy Bob, Jimmy Ray and Slick Jackson, the boyz at the Tackle Shop. I miss them most of all.

I hope to see you one day, somewhere…all around Bacolod!

Your Amigo,

~ Gary ~

One thought on “What Do You Miss? Revisited

  1. Thanks for the memories!

    Living on a military base as a kid has its advantages and disadvantages. There are many things readily at hand: movie theater, gym, swimming pool, post office, commissary and various activities are also available, but sometimes, a person can feel a little confined with everything being such close proximity. Thank God for a wise dad.

    While our father was stationed at Little Rock Air Force Base, we did a lot of fishing. Yes, we made numerous trips to our favorite bait shop. Earthworms and crickets were our choices for catching Bluegills; minnows for Crappie and Bass. We made our own stinky bait for Catfish. I remember the signage plastered all over the walls of our local bait shop: Falstaff, Blatz, Pabst Blue Ribbon, Mail Pouch, Red Man, Kool, Lucky Strike, Coke, Mountain Dew, Snickers, Moon Pies, etc. And who could forget the smells! The bubbling water in the minnow tank, the earthiness of the worm containers or the many chews of tobacco in the glass case.

    Dad had an old 50 Chevy pickup truck. We hooked up the boat trailer with our 14 foot aluminium fishing boat, motor and gas tank, tossed in our rods, reels and tackle boxes, loaded a cooler with beer (for Dad of course), cans of Ginger Ale , a church key (there were no pop tops at that time), snacks (thanks Mom) and headed out for a great adventure. Of course, we always paid a visit to our favorite bait shop on the way.

    I suppose it wouldn’t be too difficult to find a local boat owner here that would hire out his boat for a day of fishing, but somehow…it just wouldn’t be the same. Guess I will just have to content with a can of cold Colt 45 and some pretzels as I gaze out over the water and dream about the past.

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