It seems every time I write a story for you, a new memory surfaces . . . it's to the point that I have to write subjects down on a list so I can remember to write! Problem is, I sometimes forget to take them off the list as I write, so if I repeat myself . . .
. . . well, I'll try not to do that too much.
I know a lot of people; most of them are scattered across the country . . . between growing up in the Navy and moving around a lot on my own, I've left a number of friends behind. In the past, if you didn't write letters on a regular basis, eventually people lost touch with each other . . . memories fading . . . links gone.
My parents kept in touch with a number of people that Dad served with through the years, and as I grew into an adult, I enjoyed getting to know many of them . . . even visiting them. Some I love almost as much as my own parents.
Mac and Sue are one of those couples, and I love them dearly!
When your mom was little, and we still had strong ties to Louisiana, we'd occasionally stop and visit with them on our way to or from Baton Rouge. They used to own a fish camp, which was cool, and on one of our visits, we stayed with them for a couple of nights.
The house was situated pretty close to the marsh . . . brackish water . . . the smell of seaweed permeated the air . . . rising and falling with the tides. Boats launched there snaked through the many tributaries . . . sportsmen wending their way to the ocean for a day of fishing. Gators and frogs sharing space in this mix of fresh and salt water with mudskippers and crab . . . water that's not quite fresh but not nearly as salty as the ocean.
Mac and Sue had a huge in-ground pool that was just behind the house.
Here's the thing about animals . . . water is water. Crabs, frogs, and gators, unlike fish, are able to cross land.
Yeah, you definitely wanted to check the pool BEFORE jumping in!
One morning we watched as the automatic vacuum sucked hundreds of crabs into it's little net . . . Mac scooped hundreds more. Fiddler crabs. We called them hooligans (there's another story for another day).
These creatures, at least the males, have one giant claw and one small claw . . . the giant one in constant motion . . . as if fiddling! Scientists still have yet to come up with a reasonable explanation . . . studies suggest it's for temperature regulation. Really? Is that the best you can come up with? Others believe the males use this one claw to attract females. Logic dictates they battle with those claws!
A violator of natural symmetry, they're really weird looking!
I think if I were a female Fiddler Crab, I'd take one look and skip . . . I mean, really, ONE giant claw?!? Whatever dude . . . I'm outta here! There's a handsome blue with two normal claws over there; I believe I'll check him out.
Anyway, that evening, after we unloaded the car and were getting ready to relax for the night, your mom realized she'd left something in the car. She was 5 or 6 at the time . . . quite capable of going to get it by herself. It wasn't dark yet, so I wasn't concerned about letting her go alone.
A few minutes later there was a blood curdling scream!
My first thought was that someone had grabbed her, and like a shot her dad and I were out the door . . . Mac right behind us!
We came to a skidding halt when we saw the freaky scene . . . your mom was standing in the middle of the driveway . . . blanket in hand . . . surrounded by tiny terrorists waving single gruesome claws! Fiddler crabs had managed to sneak up on her and take her by surprise, and she was freaked out!!
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