The young man in the above, terrible quality photo, is my son Jamie, at age 11.
He is holding a 4lb. 15.5 oz large mouth striped bass. BIG CHARLIE, as it affectionately became known to anyone who darkened my door for months.
I will start at the beginning, (you knew I would hehe) my son was as big a fishing fan as I am from the start. Although I have never gotten quite so fanatical about it as Jamie did for around 2 years. Every dime that lined that boy's pocket went for how to fish like the best information, and of course the latest in lures and (yuck a bunch) smell techniques of the pros. He was constantly trying out new things. He got into serious trouble one time for taking dog food soaking it in some kind of super bound to catch the big un's stuff and putting it in a tray and sticking it in to the broiler section of my oven to dry. And promptly forgetting about it. I discovered it by turning on the oven to bake a cake and the house in a few minutes became something that I could not even go back into without a total and complete two day airing. OMG!
His answer to the properly screamed out " Why oh Why?' was, "It seemed like a great recipe Ma, but you know I get distracted at times, I get it from you."
What else would expect from son of Lockerridge eh? hehe Anyway back to the Charlie story. He signed up in his Bass Pro Jr. magazine, which he sat by the mailbox each month for two or three days waiting on it, for a big catch contest.
He could win a Bass Ranger Bass Boat and a 10,000 dollar scholarship. I thought to myself, what could it hurt. You know? I am a wuss when it comes to the kids, you guys know that. The rules were quite extensive and would not adhere to any kind of non compliance. I skimmed them over and signed my name. Fool!
Across the road from the house was pond owned by the neighbors which he had permission to fish in. It was loaded with all kinds of fish, and was large enough,that it had a boat dock and row boat for those who just had to row you know. It was down a hill toward the creek and we knicknamed the hill, No Hiney Hill. Cause by the time you crawled up it , you had no hiney left, or breath, or fluids left in your body. It was a BIG hill. Anyway when he turned 11 I allowed him to go fishing by himself for a while every afternoon. He could see these enormous bass swimming around in the pond, but they were so well fed they paid him no attention, plus the fact he made enough noise for 6 kids and was constantly changing baits and never leaving the lure in the water long enough to do more than get hung up or just wet.
But ho, this one afternoon, I was cooking supper and he came through the door, no let me rephrase that he fell through the door. Gasping and gesturing with his hands, in a sign language all his own. I gasped, and sat on the floor and put his head in my lap and was near hysteria. What was wrong with my baby, I started checking for broken bones, and blood. All the while he was sweating profusely, gasping for breath, and trying his best to knock me off him.
I finally quit the mother inspection, and relaxed enough to know no outward harm had come to him, he wasn't allergic to bee stings, and then it hit me, snake bite. I started pulling off his socks and shoes, his shorts, his tee shirt. He was revived enough to stop fighting me and just sit there, looking like I had let go of my senses. Which of course I had. I was already to grab the pocket knife and do a blood transfusion right there if I found fang marks! I love my son, ya know!
He grabbed my arms when I got to his underware and said in very firm, if not demanding voice, " Ma, knock it off, okay, I gotta tell you something and it is not about something in my underware." I chucked, I snickered, I laughed, I guffawed, I rolled over onto my back and lost consiousness for a moment. You got to love a kid who is so serious and so funny, and does not even know it. The whole time I was doing the insanity hysteria thing, he sat quietly until it passed. He knows his MA...... darn it, couldn't bluff him from age 3.
I sat up and he says to me, " I caught one of the big ones, it is in a puddle in the creek on a stringer. I need help getting it to the house. It is a big one Ma. Where is my Bass Pro Jr. Magazine with the entry rules in it?" 
<----- fool
He located said magazine, we needed photos at the scene of the catch, of him holding the fish, with a date on said photo, no problem got the 35 mm right here with date back. Had to have the lure and the fish and he in a photo at the scene, had to have the time of catch, the type of fish, and then the killer part. We had to have it weighed at a government approved weigh scale and signed by a notary public.
I am such a wuss. I got on the phone and located a weigh scale at the local supermarket who would let us use it to weigh the fish, if we told no one, of course this would not do, had to be legal scale, but the market did not want to risk USDA violations for bringing wild game into their butcher dept. 
Back to the phone book, finally got a bait shop with a scale to say, yeah bring it on down. 20 miles away. I then had to find a notary public who would not charge me my house payment to do this for me. I remembered an old school teacher of mine, was a notary and he loved me in school. I hoped he did anyway. I contacted him, and being retired from the school system, and totally bored out of his mind, he actually volunteered to drive us there. 
YIPPEE!
Now to get said treasure up No Hiney...... OMG! 2 hours later and a lot less enthusiastic, we contacted the teacher and away we went, Big Charlie in a bucket of ice water and looking a little worse for the trip up the hill. He was defintely a 5 lb fish, we had weighed him on the bathroom scales at home. Oh yeah he was a contender!
We arrived at the bait shop and by this time Charles was no more. He had gone to the big pond in the sky. We toted him inside the bait shop, and inbetween the time of the original call and the arrival, they had changed shifts. 
After 15 minutes of explainations, the teacher laughing at us so hard he was incapable of stamping the official weigh in I was sure, they put it on the scale and it weighted 4 lbs. 15.5 oz. 
I tried to stick an ice cube in its mouth, but Jamie said," Aw Ma, there are more fish in the pond!" I whacked him in the shoulder. He winced and then really looked at me. I was not a pretty sight, and did not have a pretty look in my eyes either, he hushed. Did I not mention he was pretty smart too?
We left the bait shop and on the way home decided that Charlie deserved to be mounted and preserved for all the world to see. I called the next day. OMG! 150 dollars was the least amount it could be done for. So hence the Big Charlie fund was born. A coffee can(3lb size) was spray painted and the words Stuff Charlie fund were written on the side and everyone who came to visit was required to place all pocket change into said bucket. Every day the couch was checked for loose change. He saw a penny on the street, the fund grew. I had taken the fish and laid it out flat on a board and wrapped it so many layers of newspaper and trash bags it looked like a gaint black hot dog and put it into the deep freezer at Grandma's house. Finally after a year of wrestling the thing every time she needed to get something from the freezer, grandma and grandpa, matched his funds and we had it mounted.
We still sent the pic into Bass Pro Jr., but never heard anything back, and they kept our photo.
conclusion to this being the word of wisdom for parents who have kids who fish.
Do not buy Bass Pro Jr. Magazine...... it is evil. hehe
lockerridge
