There were a couple of reasons why we chose Western Kentucky to move to. One was to be close to our children and grandchildren. We had never lived close to them and wanted to build a bond with our grandchildren.
The other reason was the lakes. My husband loves to fish. Whether he catches anything or not, he loves to go. Our oldest grandson loves it as my as his granddaddy does, so they go fishing about every week now that school is out.
Friday night we kept the three grandchildren so their parents could have their anniversary dinner and a movie. Granddaddy decided he and the oldest would go fishing. No big deal, they do it a lot. I felt uneasy for some reason.
They had been gone about an hour when Chet came in the door and to the family room. "Grandma, Granddaddy wants to see you at the truck." He looked anxious.
"What's wrong?" I looked up from the book I was reading.
"I hooked him." Chet sat down in a chair and I raced to the back door and the truck.
There sat my husband with his elbow bent and laying on the window with a big hook in it. "I think I need to go to the ER." He looked anxious also.
After seeing the skin gathered where the hook went in, I knew I could not get it out. I ran into the house and yelled, "Everyone go to the bathroom."
I heard replies of, "I just went." "Why do we have to go to the bathroom?" and the best one, "Just do it."
I gathered all three kids in the car with their grandfather and went to the ER. Now the ER with three who rarely go there is an experience. They found the door that would open when you walked by and the water fountain and magazines. All on the other side of the room so the door opened each time they passed by it.
Between 6 o'clock and 9 o'clock, three people came in with hooks in them. One man came in while we were there with one in his toe.
My husband finally came out with a band aide on his arm. Can you believe that? But Chet has a story to tell about the 240 pounder that didn't get away. Oh, yes, he broke his line when he hooked his granddaddy.