Gulf Coast Boy...Young Man

In 1966, I married the girl I had courted with my egg farm wages. We were both 18, too stupid to listen to advice, I guess.
Eleven days later, I left for the Navy. I had worked with my father for several years as an electrician's helper and I wanted to continue that in the Navy. Viet Nam was getting serious and I didn't want to get drafted into the Army, I already knew how to shoot a rifle and drive a truck. So it was the Navy for me. Four years.
I hoped to be a Sea-Bee electrician, wiring buildings and such for the Navy. But the Navy had enough Sea-Bees and I thought maybe I could be an electrician on a ship. The Navy was full of ships.
Growing up in Wild Peach, there wasn't a lot to do at night. 'Lawrence Welk', "Paladin' and 'Gun Smoke' on Saturday nights was as good as TV got.
But we had an old set of World Book Encyclopedias, early 1950's vintage. I read and re-read them like dime novels, A thru Z. I absorbed a tremendous amount of obscure information.
During my Navy boot camp, we were tested to see what we might be good at. I didn't do well on sonar or typing or other things, but I almost aced 'General Knowledge'.
What I didn't know was that the Navy automatically redirected recruits who scored well into Naval aviation.
I got my wish. After 13 weeks and 5 days of boot camp, I was given orders to Jacksonville Fla. to aviation electrician school, 26 weeks. Tough school, but it gave me a career. A local Jr. Collage offered us a chance to take a test and receive an associates degree in electrical engineering after we completed the Navy school. This idiot didn't go take it; those that did said it was a 'cake walk'.
But this story isn't about my Navy experiences, they would fill a book by themselves.
Condensed version is I that became an aviation electrician, got assigned to a patrol squadron, deployed twice, once to the frozen Aleutians Islands and later to Viet Nam.
We had 9 four engine planes and I loved working on them. I have always had a passion for aircraft, and still do.
Back to the tale. My marriage produce two wonderful kids, but after eleven years the relationship ended in 1977. I was 29 years old.
But, this story is about 'Gulf Coast Boy', so I'll get back on track.
Skip back to 1976...
A knock at my door...a power company truck was idling in my driveway...
A young, lanky guy with a big grin said 'Hi, I'm Danny, and I hear you know how to salt water fish..."
So began a friendship that has lasted over three decades.
We began to fish together. I was something of an introvert, and he was anything but. I still accuse him of doing a 'three minute routine' when the icebox door opens and the light hits him. His enthusiasm and attitude remains the same to this day.
We bought a small fishing shack out in a local bay, only accessible by boat. It was just one room, maybe 10 X 14 feet, a bad pier and not much else.
We built a larger pier and deck, adding a basic shower and toilet. We drove pilings by hand and carried timbers out to the cabin on our boats to enlarge the place. I almost sunk my 'john boat' with pilings loaded on it. It always leaked afterward due to the stress on the rivets.
But, we were young and could work all day in the Texas sun. Danny's wife and small daughter were often there, never complaing about the heat or mosquitoes. My kids came sometimes, as did my girl friend who later became my 2nd wife. Life was good.
Danny became a good fisherman, although I never understood how he could catch as much a me using a broken hook and a bad knot. Now days, he is very good with lures and such, still chasing Texas fish.
We loved every minute of our 'cabin days'. We knew at the time it was good, but looking back,
it may have been, as Victor Hugo wrote, "the Best of Times".
Water seems to attract an unusual assortment of people. Our little piece of the Texas coast was no different. (We, of course, were perfectly normal, ahem..)
We made friends with some of the local bait shrimpers, helping them trawl for shrimp their small boats. Most had no winches for their nets, so extra hands were always useful. They showed us many things..like how to get a heavy boat over a sand bar and how to spot a game warden a mile off. Useful stuff.
Danny and I bought a 20' box net...gonna catch us some shrimp with all of this new found knowledge. We managed to snag some beer cans and oyster shells, but shrimp...well, let's say we were glad to have friends in the business.
We knew two brothers..one named Charlie and the other was Worm. We spotted Charlie one day heading out into the Gulf alone in a small boat to shrimp. We noticed that he had a two-by-four board tied to his motor to steer with. Steering cable broke, so you make do. Shrimping alone in the Gulf with a board to steer with..that's Texas.
Another interesting local was named Doug. He worked for a bait house/beer joint/boat ramp place. Doug was a jack of all trades. He was a mechanic, carpenter, shrimper, you name it, he was good at it.
From time to time, the place he worked for had parties..you know, a bunch of fun and drinking, dancing, etc. Did I mention drinking?
Well, Doug showed up for the party...only he was wearing a dress and full make up. He announced that he thought it was time for him to be him/her self. The joint was a quiet as the backside of the Moon. But, everyone liked Doug....so.....aw Hell, they fired him anyway..
Bay shrimpers are a breed apart. They would shrimp all day in small boats in the August sun. I've seen them going in after ten hours in 100 degree heat, tossing a bottle of Jack Daniels from boat to boat. These men were in their upper 60's and would be back on the water at 6:00am.
But times come and go.
We sold the cabin in 1982. In 1983, hurricane Alicia wiped it off the face of the Earth.
Danny and I sold our boats and bought Harley's. Danny became an engineer for his power company and later manager.
I adapted well to the new lifestyle and became 'scooter trash', but that's the next chapter.. I was thirty-eight years old.
Thanks for reading.
end of part 3.