[piemma]

September 1991, I am fishing Fresh Pond Rocks about 2:00 AM. Pouring rain, about 50 degrees and a big swell on. Nothing to show for 3 hours of plugging so I am sitting on the “rock” with a Grunden parker, hood and all pulled tight around me.

Suddenly there’s a light in my face and a guy yelling. “Hey ya bum, you gonna fish or sit there and feel sorry for yourself.” Some guy with a walrus mustache who I have never met. “What! You talking to me?” “Yeah, I’m talking to you! Let me see you rod.”

He grabs my rod from me and says:”Habs is the name. Here’s your problem”. He cuts my Super Strike needle off and throws it away. He pulls a white needle with a red head out of his bag and ties it to my line. “OK, let’s fish”. So I’m thinking I have met a lunatic and its either fish with this nut or he might stab me.

3rd cast I’m on with a bass around 20#. Next cast Hab is on. And so it went until false dawn. We hammered fish for about 3 hours. That was the first time I met and fished with John. We became best of friend and I field tested hundreds of his early swimmers, needles and poppers.

The last time I saw John was at Home Depot in Greenville. I had just been diagnosed with cancer and had been operated on and had chemo the week before. John knew as only a few of my friends were privy to the fact. So I am struggling to put an exterior front door in my truck. Here comes Habs. What *&^%$ are you doing you stupid ((*&^!!! Get the **^% out of the way. John helped me get the door in the truck and then we went for coffee at D&D right up the road.

God speed John. I think of you every time I go to Fresh Pond Rock and all the other places we fished together.