I certainly enjoy putting together these flashback posts but the ones that include a fishing partner mean a little something extra. A lot more going on upstairs than just a fish story when I get to composing a post like today’s edition.

While these photos go back 25 years, me and that guy go back even farther. That guy is a fellow known to many as “Geek” and our friendship dates back to the early 80s. I’ve got a couple years on him but was fortunate to share the court with him back in 1984-85 as a Galesburg Silver Streak. Geek (actually, Mark Junk) would go on to be one of the leading GHS scorers by the time he graduated in 1987 and then would take his game to the next level at Knox College. Yep, among the top scorers of all-time there, too, as well as being enshrined in the school’s athletic hall of fame.

Geek’s older, shorter, former teammate gets in on the act

On the other hand, the combo of a lack of height, talent and desire found me perched in the top row of the bleachers at Knox College’s Memorial Gym recording the stats of Geek and his teammates. Yep, I was known as “Stat Boy” among a few in the b-ball circle. Part term of endearment and part poking fun, never was quite sure on the breakdown percentage wise. Regardless, I earned some beer money, had a great view and the focus on the game required while documenting the numbers further reinforced an appreciation for my friend’s talent.

Jan. 13. 1990 – Official box score Knox vs. Monmouth rivalry 

Closer look at the “good guys” who came up short on this night (stat sheets courtesy of “Stat Boy”)

Anyhow, many stories over the college years and beyond, some of which we vividly remember and others that are a little foggy. Among those that fit into both categories were trips to the Lake Bracken Spillway, home to a batch of carp (and other species) that sometimes cooperated and sometimes had lockjaw. You know, fishing. But hey, if the fish weren’t in the mood to bite, we always had an ample supply of refreshments and rambles to keep us happy.

Note: important to stay hydrated in the rugged spillway environment. Oh yeah, nice catfish. too. Celtic cap, on the other hand…

Fortunately, on this particular April day, twenty five years ago, the bites and The Beast* were top notch (*Milwaukee’s Best Light). Here’s to good (?) beer, great fishing and best friends. Geek, if you’re out there reading this, knock a couple down for me.

Talk to you later. Troy

The latest flashback via an excerpt from the original report posted on March 31, 2005.

Upon catching a fish, I wanted to brag as well as let Dad know that I’d found something the bass seemed willing to hit. However, he was a couple hundred yards across the lake as we had headed in opposite directions upon arriving. With the wind screaming, there was no way to give him a yell but I did have my cell phone in my pocket. Upon dialing what I thought was the number, I got no answer and put the phone back in my pocket. The entire time from when I caught the fish through making my call, Dad had been in the timber with his back turned and had no idea I was trying to get his attention. I thought he had got a lure snagged in a tree or something but such was not the case. No sooner had I put my phone back than it produced one of those annoying tunes indicating an incoming call. It was Dad, who had been trying to read the display on his phone the entire time he’d had his back turned. A combination of glare and no glasses had made the task a bit more complicated but he got through. I relayed my info and in a matter of minutes he was on my side of the lake and casting a Rat-L-Trap. As it turned out, I had called Mom’s cell phone anyway as I didn’t realize that Mom and Dad now have their own phones. Nevertheless, a first, cellular communication to share the day’s fishing tips.

Dad 1-14 on a Rat-L-Trap

Turns out my generosity cost me Top Bass. A few minutes after Dad arrived on “my side” of the lake he caught a 1-15 and later reeled in a 1-14 to push me to third place on the list for 2005. I did manage to catch three more bass but the best of the bunch was a 1-5. We headed for a pothole that I think is called Axle Lake after wearing out our welcome on Hopper. I had one good strike on a jig but missed and Dad ended up donating his jig to a tree before we decided to call it quits. The stop at the last lake was essentially exploring, as we weren’t sure if the lake even had a bass population. Final results for our day were nine bass with eight coming on lipless crankbaits in a brown crawfish pattern and one on a jig (black/blue). Three additions to the record book was also a pleasant surprise and Dad’s 1-15 established a new lake record for Hopper Lake besting Tim’s 1-10 caught on 3/10/04.

Dad 1-15 on a Rat-L-Trap

Short and sweet on the outro as lots of blogging and more going on these days. Talk to you later (and soon). Troy

As I put together this post, I did a search for the top cover models of 2010 and guess who didn’t make the list?

Perhaps it has to do with the fact that this blogger was not truly the featured cover model, more of a sidelight than a highlight.

But hey, I must admit it was kind of cool to get an email suggesting that I check out the latest issue of Illinois Game & Fish magazine which had just hit the racks. The email came from Jeff Lampe, outdoor writer at The Peoria Journal Star and blogger at the now defunct Prairie State Outdoors at the time. Jeff had written an Emiquon Preserve article for the March 2010 edition of Illinois Game & Fish and was gracious enough to include a pic I’d sent him of my September 2009 catch which is still my personal best largemouth bass at 7 pounds 3 ounces.

Dad always said he should get some credit as he actually snapped this photo

Have always wondered where the 7-3 ranked among the Top Bass caught during the 2009 opener

It was a cool time as I transitioned from sending rambling fish stories to family and friends to contributing to the Prairie State Outdoors website beginning on April 6, 2010. I hung around PSO until March 25, 2011, contributing 169 posts to the rapidly fading website. In the meantime, Mr. Lampe had departed for his own gig with the purchase of Heartland Outdoors. From April 5, 2011 to May 1, 2017 I contributed nearly 600 posts to the Heartland Outdoors website before striking out on my own (note: “striking out” has a couple different interpretations but I’m still entertaining myself at the very least).

And the rest (all 626 posts and counting at Troy Jackson Outdoors), as they say, is history.

So, there you have it, more than just a ruggedly handsome face on an outdoor publication and perhaps as close as I’ll ever get to my “Cover of the Rolling Stone” moment. And whether or not my contributions to the blogosphere remotely resemble Andy Warhol’s “15 minutes” of fame, I’m proud of my efforts.

And I ain’t done yet. Talk to you later. Troy

While “Belonging” served as the inspiration and kickoff article for the “1,000 Words” series, this photo certainly could have taken top billing. As I’ve mentioned in the past, I have rarely ever hit the water without a camera for much of the last thirty five years. That’s a lot of fishing and a fair amount of success all captured for posterity. The result is well over a thousand pictures of myself and a multitude of fishing partners proudly showing off their trophies (nearly all of which were released to do battle again). But, hands down, this is my favorite fishing picture of all-time; the ideal finale to wrap up my “1,000 Words” series.

The youngster in the photo is my brother, Brent, with a two pound bass from Lake Storey that was caught on a buzzbait sometime during the summer of 1986. Despite my typically meticulous record keeping, this one somehow managed to slip through the cracks, which is probably the way it should be when reminiscing about our introduction to the pursuit of the largemouth bass. Over the years we’ve caught thousands more bass including hundreds that were larger, but this fish came from a different time.

Things have changed a lot since 1986.

Same kid in 2011 at The Emiquon Preserve

At that time, Dad, Brent and I were just starting to grasp what bass fishing was all about. Sure, Dad had caught plenty of nice bass over the years, but he was about to turn things up a notch with some help from two of his boys. All of us were broke and busy but still found a way to pursue this new and exciting hobby together. In those days we each had a couple rod and reel combos, a handful of bass lures, limited knowledge on how to use them and Dad’s small rowboat (it still floats and is sitting in my garage awaiting yet another adventure). Nowadays, we also resort to filling Dad’s old Bass Tracker with over a dozen rods and reels paired with forty or fifty pounds of tackle. Gas and electricity propel us rather than elbow grease and oars. An electronic depth finder now tells us how deep the water is rather than an anchor rope, an oar or the tip of an inverted fishing pole. With or without those luxuries, simply spending time on the water has helped to improve our skills and our catch rates; either we’re getting smarter or the bass are getting dumber, it’s open for debate.

Whatever the case, things have changed a lot since 1986.

I shot this picture with an old disk camera. In those days, “disk” indicated that the film was on a circular disk contained within a plastic cartridge, a far cry from today’s digital video discs or memory cards. I still remember picking up this camera for a significant discount when the Galesburg Hornsby’s store closed its doors in the mid 80’s. For some reason, I also recall purchasing a tackle box that I eventually gave away after upgrading as well as a handful of 45 rpm records. Anyway, I used that old disk camera until the film apparently went out of production and I was forced out of Stone Age photography. The last place I could find disk film was the now defunct Midwest Photo in Galesburg. They sold me the last ones they had amidst glances as if I’d arrived via time machine. I’m happy to report that I am now hip and fully digital after a number of years with the Advanced Photo System medium.

Things have changed a lot since 1986.

Same kid, same lake in 2018 as he established a new family Lake Storey Top Bass record

As previously noted, Brent’s 1986 bass was caught at Lake Storey. The specific location, seen beyond Brent’s left shoulder, will always be referred to as The Dump. During my high school and college days, from the summer of 1984 until the spring of 1990 I spent quite a few hours “working” at The Dump while employed by the City of Galesburg’s Park Department. As teenagers, me and my buddies quickly realized that when given our daily workload, it was best to make it last all day. Initially we would bust our tails and finish early only to be rewarded with some crummy job that none of the “full-timers” wanted. It didn’t take long to come to the conclusion that our orders were essentially, “Here’s your job for the day, get it done, stay out of trouble and don’t come back until quittin’ time.” So, that‘s what we did. Since we all played baseball we’d spend time goofing around at The Dump hitting rocks with sticks and taking target practice on bottles while staying out of the sight of any local taxpayers. I’m proud to say that my work ethic and ability to resist peer pressure have both improved.

Things have changed a lot since 1986.

Brent’s attire also deserves a mention. He is sporting what we used to refer to as “baseball sleeves.” These were the three quarter length sleeve shirts that were worn under the jersey of each season’s baseball team. During our careers, my brothers and I probably racked up every color under the rainbow. We wore blue for the Little League Rangers, Galesburg Legion or Hi-Lo Grocery, black for the Little League Giants and Galesburg Silver Streaks, red for Coca Cola, yellow for a local funeral home and finally purple or yellow for Knox College. Nowadays, we no longer need to purchase such athletic wear for ourselves as we’ve grown too busy, too old and too “Dad.”

Things have changed a lot since 1986.

Same boat, same photographer, same kid with a 2019 trophy catch from Snakeden Hollow 

While that 1986 pic obviously conjures up a cascade of memories, the one aspect that goes a long way towards making this my favorite fishing picture is “The Look.” As mentioned earlier, Dad had already landed his share of quality bass with his twenty plus year head start. However, Brent and I weren’t in the same boat, figuratively speaking. So, for a pair of young, novice anglers, the bass was literally the bass of a lifetime, something to brag about. I’m sure we couldn’t wait to get home to tell Dad about the trophy (which was released after the photo). The right lure, an accurate cast, the proper retrieve, a good hook set, steady pressure and a firm grip on the lip all added up to a prized catch. To me, “The Look” says that he knows what he’s doing, has it all under control and “luck” isn’t in his vocabulary, although back in those days we all knew better. But there’s still something inspiring in the picture of that 16 year old kid who appears barely able to suppress a grin, full of confidence and satisfaction over a job well done.

“The Look” is evident in countless other photos in my collection and will continue to surface as every cast bears the potential of magically turning any of us “experienced” anglers back into that 16 year old kid.

I am grateful that some things never change.

Talk to you later. Troy

This photo is easily the most ancient of this series. It was taken in November of 1976 during part of a two day trapping/coon hunting outdoor adventure. The location in the picture is Henderson Creek in Warren County somewhere near Angling Road, southeast of Alexis.

The sheer number of outdoorsmen (and boys) that took part goes a long way towards making this a classic. My uncle, Richard Jackson, was the photographer and those in the picture are as follows: front row from left to right – Brad Burt, Troy Jackson, Ronnie Van Fleet and Greg Smith. Back row from left to right – Bill Burt, Terry Jackson and Jody Jackson. The dogs are Buck and Susie from left to right. Also included on the adventure was a friend of Dad’s named Bob Coe who joined for the coon hunting portion.

Having been rather young at the time, I have only vague memories and had to recruit Dad for some help on this one. It seems that the agenda began with the crew setting traps in some Henderson County creeks. We then returned to a spot we called The Big Timber which would serve as our home base for some supper, apparently chili or stew that required only a fire for final preparation. The evening culminated in a group coon hunting excursion with a couple adults herding us kids back to camp before the rest of the coonhunters called it a night.

Accommodations were an old machine shed with evergreen boughs covered with canvas tarps to serve as makeshift mattresses. Blankets and sleeping bags rounded out the setup as a final barrier between the adventurers and the elements. The following morning, breakfast was donuts or rolls before heading out to run traps culminating with the picture of our load of fur.

Our deluxe accommodations at The Big Timber “Lodge”

Were that all that this photograph means to me, I would fall well short of my “1,000 Words.” Although my memories of this specific moment in time are mostly lost, the photograph represents other memories that were a substantial slice of growing up. Tastes and interests influenced by several of my fellow adventurers remain with me to this day and are being passed down again whether intentionally or inadvertently.

Dad and Uncle Dick are no doubt at the top of the list and their influence runs through all of my past articles and will continue to surface as long as I keep writing. So, for this posting, I’ll focus on two of my fellow “youngsters” in the photograph (although it’s funny to think that I’m now older than any of the grownups were at the time).

My cousin, Ronnie, is decked out in his Oakland A’s jacket that I thought was just about the coolest coat around. However, the heyday of some outstanding Oakland clubs had reached its end by 1976. Brash and sometimes bizarre owner, Charlie Finley, had already traded away Reggie Jackson, and “Catfish” Hunter. Sal Bando, Gene Tenace, Bert Campaneris, Vida Blue, Joe Rudi, Billy North, “Blue Moon” Odom, and Rollie Fingers (with his unforgettable trademark handlebar mustache) would soon follow. Such a talented bunch of players, the stuff of legend even to a youngster who was genetically predisposed to be a Cubs fan.

Ronnie was like another brother in our family in those days and we spent weekends and summers getting up to various hijinks. Both of our homes were located near Cedar Fork, a creek (rhymes with stick) that snaked its way through Galesburg and provided ample opportunity to explore and make a mess. We were also frequent visitors to the neighborhood Park Drive dairies for sports cards of all seasons and Saturday morning donuts when finances permitted.

Music and baseball ruled our summers. We consumed a steady diet of pop and rock, enamored by hits such as “Rubberband Man”, “Why Can’t We Be Friends”, “The Things We Do For Love”, “Lyin’ Eyes”, “Rhinestone Cowboy”, “Convoy” and “S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y Night.” We tagged along with Dad to softball games, celebrated my birthday in the July heat and played baseball all day with my younger brother, Brent, as designated hitter. Summer also meant the eagerly awaited arrival of the MLB All Star game where all of our heroes gathered. Willie Stargell, Johnny Bench, Lou Brock, Mike Schmidt, Pete Rose, Tom Seaver, Jim Rice, Robin Yount, George Brett, Carl Yastrzemski, Rod Carew; maybe I’m just getting old but today’s players don’t hold a candle to the legends of my childhood.

My cousin, Jody, was eight years older and at times seemed like more of an older brother. He introduced me to a lasting 70s and 80s sampling of the arts. Literature included Edgar Rice Burroughs’ John Carter of Mars series, which was originally published in 1917 (Burroughs is perhaps better known for creating the enduring character, Tarzan). I also became acquainted with a myriad of characters created by J.R.R. Tolkien and while Jody’s comic book collection would rival my baseball card collection, I was never bitten by that bug.

There were also films such as “Blade Runner” (1982) and “Escape From New York” (1981). Three others remain among my all-time favorites to this day; “An American Werewolf in London” (1981), “The Thing” (1982) and “Excalibur” (1981).

Music was also a shared passion with “Billy Don’t Be a Hero” and “Band on the Run” standing out in my mind along with the risqué (for a kid in 1974) novelty hit “The Streak.” AM radio dominated the airwaves with Chicago’s WLS 890AM leading the way in our neck of the woods. The WLS roster featured Larry “Uncle Lar” Lujack, John Records Landecker and Tommy “Little Tommy” Edwards along with spots such as “Boogie Check” and “Animal Stories” where I’m sure much of the humor went right over my head. Of course, New Year’s Eve was spent with the radio for the highlight of the year, “The WLS Big 89 Countdown.”

Jody also informed me that the strange song that sounded like nothing I’d ever heard before was called “Bohemian Rhapsody,” whatever that meant. Later I remember listening to his recently purchased copy of “Double Fantasy,” John Lennon’s 1980 return to the music industry, released a mere three weeks before he was assassinated outside of his New York City apartment building. “Watching The Wheels” remains one of my all-time favorite songs to this day.

Well, for today’s post, my “1,000 Words” (and then some) certainly wander from the outdoors. Although I have only fleeting memories of the adventure associated with today’s picture, it conjures up other memories that explain some of my philosophies, tastes and pursuits.

Such as…

It’s important to take time to include the next generation (now it’s my turn to set an example).

I much prefer outdoor activities to being cooped up inside (writing helps me pretend nowadays).

Baseball is still “America’s pastime” (despite not taking very good care of itself).

There’s nothing like getting lost in a good book (they’re always better than the movie).

A good movie never gets old (but read the book if time permits).

I’d take tunes over television any day (hence a home with rabbit ears, one TV and half a dozen radios).

I’ll leave you with a few lines from the 1975 Top 5 hit, “Old Days”, another of my all-time favorites, courtesy of a band that was formed in The Windy City and eventually named itself after the hometown of WLS; Chicago.

“Old days, good times I remember,
Fun days, filled with simple pleasures,
Drive in movies, comic books and blue jeans,
Howdy Doody, baseball cards and birthdays,
Take me back to a world gone away,
Boyhood memories seem like yesterday.”

A few simple lines say it just as well as 1,294 words. Oh, to be a songwriter. Talk to you later. Troy