IT'S A SMALL WORLD

We have all heard the saying “It’s a small world” when we run into someone we know in an unusual place. Well, this certainly is true and this past weekend proved it.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be amazed that these chance meetings occur, especially in today’s connected world. In rural farming communities, it used to be that farmers were only connected to a small circle of folks in their surrounding neighborhoods. Social media like Facebook and AgTalk have changed all of that. I jokingly refer to AgTalk as “Farmers’ Facebook.”

So, what does all of this have to do with my “small world” story? Well, we all know that farmers have very little time to do anything other than farm. Their crops pretty much rule their time. So, anything else they like to do like fish or hunt or any other activity has to be worked around planting, tending and harvesting the crops.

My Dad was a prime example of this fact. He not only farmed but also worked in a paper mill. He had five weeks of vacation each year so two weeks he took in the spring and two weeks in the fall and hoped they coincided when it was the right time to get the crops in and get them out. And the fifth week? Ahh, that he always took in the middle of July to go fishing and take us kids fishing.

Most farmers have this mid-summer break in July and August, unless they irrigate and have to keep tabs on their systems. Ron, who lives 180 miles south of me in Indiana told me when we first met that his grandfather, Guy Scruggs, started coming up here and fishing the St. Joe River, especially at Riley Dam just west of Union City, MI. This is just a mile from my place.

Well, “Grampy” would bring his son Marfield (Ron’s Dad) up fishing and later Marfield would bring Ron and his brother and sister up fishing. They would stay in their little camper right by the dam. Then Ron’s son Rodney would come up with his grandfather Marfield when he got old enough. They remember how the trip up only took about 3 hours but the trip home would take 5 or 6 hours because they stopped at all the fruit stands along the way! Cool memories…well maybe, considering that the kids were stuck in the back all the way home on those hot days.

Well, two years ago Ron brought his grandson Riley up to fish the river. That made five generations of the family that had been coming up here fishing over a span of more than 50 years. I have a picture of Riley Scruggs fishing Riley Dam on Riley Road…pretty amazing!

But it goes a little further. Farmers and fishermen love to talk and some of the Scruggs’ family and friends started fishing the St. Joe too. They spread out from the Union City area and fished the St. Joe by Colon, Mendon and Cassopolis too.

A couple weeks ago this whole scenario came full circle. Ron, Rodney and Riley were all up to float the river and do some fishing, the first time that the three of them have ever been up together. It probably wasn’t the best year for it since, with all the rain, the river was high and didn’t make for a good catch.

We were driving around checking some places out when we noticed an older gentleman fishing off the Arbogast Bridge by Union City. His Indiana plates caught our attention so we stopped to talk. In the conversation we asked how he started coming up here to fish. He said, “A guy by the name of Guy Scruggs started bringing my friend’s grandfather up and we have been coming up ever since.”

Now, that proves how small of a world it really is! Ron and the grandson finally met and talked about their grandfathers who started it all. Even more amazing is the fact that they were up here on the same weekend.

My Dad was raised on the St. Joe River down west of me in Three Rivers, MI. His father worked on a boat that dredged the river and his mother was the cook. So, the first years of his life were spent on the river, literally. He passed that love on down to us kids.

I still find it amazing that so many folks from nearly 200 miles south of here have come to this area to fish. Driving down to Ron’s we cross the Wabash, the Salamonie and the Mississinewa Rivers in Indiana, yet many of them come up to fish the St. Joe. There is just something magical about our river.

Sometimes it is the little things that pack the most bang for the buck. Often, family traditions start in unexpected ways. I hope Riley continues the ritual and that there will be many more generations of Scruggs to fish the St. Joe and make memories.