A Spunky Fisherwoman Died

I read my home newspaper online just to see the obituaries. I know--it's odd. It's also something old people do and I certainly don't consider myself old, but I am odd, so that must be why.

Today I found out that a friend of my mom's and mine and my daughter's died at the age of 101. Her name was Sarah and she had the same last name as my maiden name. So when I was growing up in the small town of Buhl every one assumed her family and mine were related. We weren't. But she had a running joke at church about my mom and she both being called Sister _____! She just thought it was the most clever greeting. And because she thought it was funny, I did too. She and my mom were both kind of "jack mormons" so I think that made the joke funnier to her. She'd often save a naughty joke to tell my mom at church and they would sit in the back and laugh like girls at the slightly off-color humor. Made all the more humorous because it was relayed at church.

Sarah was a fisherwoman. A great one! Up until age 98 she drove her Toyota pickup 35 miles or so down to Hagerman from Twin Falls to fish the ponds and the Snake River. She had a small boat that she used when she was younger, but I think the last few years she fished from the bank.

She knew all the good holes and would NOT tell you where they were. A good fisherman never reveals his spot. She also would tell me that you should never throw a fish back because it would tell the other fish that you were up there trying to snag them and they'd all swim off. Because, according to Sarah, fish are pretty smart.

My daughter is also a fisher person and so once when Rach was about 15 Sarah took her fishing in the Toyota with the boat behind it. That would have made Sarah about 86 years old. She nearly scared my daughter to death on the ride down and back. I guess it was like Mr. Toad's wild ride. Rachel still tells the story of Sarah's driving skills on the way to Hagerman. But they had a great time fishing, and Sarah had a real warm spot for my tomboy girl who liked to fish as much as she did.

Her favorite phrase that she repeated at least 20 times a conversation was "kid." She'd say, "How you doin', kid?" or "Yes, kid, I still live alone in my apartment." And her eyes would twinkle and she had this lopsided grin that made you sure that she was telling you things that she wouldn't share with just anyone. That you were special to her and that she liked the heck out of you. The oft-repeated expression might have been annoying coming from some lesser person, but from Sarah, it was just part of who she was. A real kidder and a genuine fine lady.

I'm not really sad that Sarah is gone. She was 101 and when I went to her 100th birthday party before we left Idaho, she was failing. She couldn't walk very much and her memory was a bit fuzzy. I'm pretty sure she had been forced to quit driving--at least I hope so for the safety of everyone on the road. But she was still living in an apartment then though I think some one came in to help her. So Sarah is probably lighter and happier and if I'm not mistaken, I'll bet she's tossing her line into some heavenly pond and not throwing back any fish. Those celestial trout are surely even smarter than these earthly ones.