NATURE'S CHILDREN: Daddy's girl

I was a daddy's girl. I loved my mother with all my heart, but I adored my father. You see, my mother stayed home and took care of the family. She cooked and cleaned and taught me to sit up straight and say please and thank you. She inspected my nails and made sure I was dressed in time to get to church on Sunday morning. She was the practical one, the disciplinarian. She fretted over having a tom-boy for a daughter. She was determined to teach me to be a lady. My father, on the other hand was delighted with me. He didn't care if my nails were dirty or my shirt-tail was hanging out. He'd let me get grubby and poke around in the creek until my shoes were wet. Once, when I fell out of a boat and surfaced covered in green duck-weed, he hosed me off and simply said, " Stand in the sun 'til you dry off .... and don't tell your mother."

My father spent a lot of time outdoors and he took me with him! On weekends he loaded me into the front seat of the car. (Yes, the front seat, and no seat belt!) Sometimes we'd ride out to Oilville to take care of his hunting dogs. Other times we'd go to the gas station or the hardware store. But as soon as it got warm enough, we went to the river, not the Mattaponi or the Pamunkey where our church friends had cottages, but our river, the James. There on the riverbank, in sight of the Huguenot bridge, was our little slice of heaven, a run-down shack, a rickety dock and a little green boat. My father would load the boat with a couple of fishing poles, a gas can and his battered gray tackle box. Once he had secured the ancient Evinrude motor to the back, I would jump in holding a can of night-crawlers. I was especially proud of those night-crawlers because I had snatched them from their holes the night before. They were about 6 inches long and slimy. After I quartered one by pinching it between my thumb and forefinger, it made the perfect hook-full to lure a sunfish.

We spent many long hours puttering up and down the river. Daddy sat me up front and told me to watch out for rocks. As the boat aged it sprank a leak so I also needed to bail. My father convinced me that both jobs were noble undertakings. I carried them out proudly. As I got older and the act of fishing began to lose its luster, I brought a pillow and a stack of comic books with me. There was just enough room for me to sit on the bottom of the boat and settle back on the pillow. I baited a hook, tied the line to my toe and dangled my foot over the edge of the boat. I actually caught fish that way while catching up on my reading, multitasking before it was a thing.

As I look back, I realize that I learned valuable lessons from both parents. My father cultivated my love of nature. My mother civilized me. Both lessons have lasted a life-time. I can hold my own with ladies who lunch. My nails are clean and my shirt-tails are tucked in. But I must admit that even today, thanks to being Daddy's girl, I am happiest when I'm a bit grubby and floating down a river.

Betsy Saunders

December 18, 2025