Rob's Grandma Dixie

Rob Robinson was a friend of mine all through Jr. High and High School, and we stayed in touch for a few years after. We spent a lot of time together in those days. Most weekends you could find one of us at the other's house, or both of us out together somewhere trying to impress girls and make general fools of ourselves (in a fun, nondestructive way).
Among my favorite memories of our times together were the times when Dixie, Rob's grandmother, would come in for a visit. She was a most delightful woman who told wonderful stories, but unlike a lot of older people, she was still very much in the midst of living life. She always seemed ready for an adventure.
One Summer we went to their family camp near Clendenin, WV, along the Elk River. The camp was actually permanent building which looked to me like an old house that had been converted maybe, with a great room, loft bunks, a kitchen, and bath. One night Dixie took us out night fishing in their john boat. As I recall, there was a lantern, a cigar (which she used to keep the mosquitoes away, don't you know) and some Velveeta cheese, which Dixie insisted was the very best bait, us, and our fishing poles, along with a few snacks for ourselves, as I recall.
Out on the river, pitch black except for the flicker of our lantern lighting up our smiling faces and the red glow from the tip of Dixie's cigar, we cast our bait into the water and drifted. In my mind I can still hear the night sounds of the insects and bullfrogs along the banks, and the rushing sound from down river where the water split, one half going over the shallows and the other forming a fast moving, deeper shoot around  the left side of a small island.
At one point, Rob's pole quickly bent nearly double, taking us all by surprise. He pulled back hard, but whatever had his line didn't give an inch. Suddenly, the line snapped, and Rob's hard pull on the pole all at once had no resistance, nearly causing him to fall backwards out of the boat.
"What was that?!"
Dixie was sure it was either a snapping turtle, or some game fish like a pike...something with teeth or a sharp beak, because the line was cut clean near where the hook had been, not just pulled apart.
That was a memorable trip in many ways. I got one of the worst sunburns in my life the next day, out on the same river, same boat, with Rob and his cousin Terry (Terry was a girl, upon whom I developed an instant, if short-lived crush). We made a couple of trips down the river and back, one across the shoals and the other down the left side of that little island. The water moved so fast there, winding right and left under low hanging limbs, that it was almost like a water ride at an amusement park.
I had my guitar along, and we sang while I played, and all the other things campers do. But of all that fun, I think the thing I remember most is what a sweet, wonderful, adventurous lady was Dixie.