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Hazleton native delivers remarks at White House

PLAINS TWP. &mdash; Taking a drive is a great way to keep one&rsquo;s sanity during the COVID-19 pandemic.
				Every evening I set out on a new adventure, sort of, to revisit old, familiar places, or to explore new venues.
				I have been to Lake Silkworth, Harveys Lake, North Lake, Sylvan Lake and Harveys Creek several times in recent weeks, always discovering new memories of days long ago. Those were the days when I would go trout fishing &mdash; some days with great success, others when I was skunked.
				As many times as I have driven to those places, I somehow always managed to pass one place where my mentor, Ecky Kraynack, would always stop on our way to one of those aforementioned spots.
				The other day, as I passed the place again, the Ceasetown Bait Shop, and it hit me &mdash; that&rsquo;s where Ecky always stopped for bait.
				The building is still there, but the place is closed. I pulled in front of the old shop and got out. I peered through the window, but couldn&rsquo;t really see much, but as I stepped back, all those memories came rushing back.
				I remember an older man who always had a how-to-do and a pot of hot coffee brewing somewhere behind the counter. He and Ecky would jaw back and forth and the man would proceed to tell what they were hittin&rsquo; on this week.
				Ecky would buy some red worms, some grubs, some meal worms and sometimes a few nightcrawlers and off we would go.
				Usually, Ecky would call over to me when darkness arrived and tell me to come over. He would hand me a flashlight and a bucket and we would walk through his yard and Roman&rsquo;s yard next door searching for nightcrawlers. They were usually abundant after a good rain.
				We would gather them up and Ecky kept them on his side porch to await our next fishing excursion.
				Bait always was the preferred way to catch fish, although artificial lures like spinners, spoons and plugs also worked quite well.
				We would rig up, placing our bait on a hood and tying a bobber to the line. We would cast out and wait. When that bobber went down, that&rsquo;s when the fun began.
				At Lake Silkworth, when the trout weren&rsquo;t biting, Ecky would tell me to walk down a few docks to where the branches of a big willow tree hung over the water. That&rsquo;s where I would catch blue gills. Ecky would keep a few for dinner that night.
				We also caught smallmouth bass there and once in a while, a walleye or two.
				Ecky also used to throw flies out. He had them rigged with a clear bubble-bobber. Ecky knew how to work those flies and he caught many trout on them. Me? No way. I had enough difficulty keeping the bird&rsquo;s nests out of my line.
				There were so many good times fishing those crystal clear lakes just a short drive from home.
				But our success always depended on that bait we got at that little bait shop on Route 29, where the man always had a good word, a hot cup of coffee and the knowledge of what the fish were feeding on that particular day.
				Like I said, the bait shop is long closed. But those memories never fade.
				I wish I knew the man&rsquo;s name. I wish I could thank him for his kindness and his knowledge.
				Whoever he was, wherever he is, I hope he knows that he made quite an impression on a kid from Plymouth.
				Let&rsquo;s go fishin&rsquo;.

Coping with Corona: Bait shop memories