The date was July 1984. The place, Arrowhead Lake just outside of Potts Camp Mississppi. I was 17 and thought I knew everything there was to know about fishing.( Mhmmm) I had finally earned the right to use my uncle Bills jon-boat. We would go there every summer on vacation but he would never let me take the boat out alone, I like most teenagers was a smartass and I didnt have respect for most people or things... your basic knucklehead. This year was different, I was yes sir this no maam that when spoken to by adults and had earned my uncles respect after a few days on the water with him baiting his trot lines and jugs. He simply came up to me and asked if I thought I was ready to go out by myself and I calmly answered "Yes sir." Being the 2nd of July we needed a whole lot more fish than we had in his giant fish cage to feed some 50 odd relatives that would be rolling in for our anual get together on the 4th. Im sure this also prompted my promotion to captain of the jon-boat seeing we were short of fish and my uncle had never let the family down on the 4th. There was always as much catfish as you could eat. We had probably a half dozen fish ranging from a couple pounds on up to 10 or so. My goal was to set lines and jugs all day and night and make new ones to up the chances of reaching our goal of 100 lbs of delicious blues. I made up a bunch of new 2 liter jug rigs and strung who knows how many yards of new trotline around the lake. All except for one cove that was owned by a man named Joe Brewer. Everyone knew not to go into his cove (it was actually his, it was on the deed and everything I believe) because he would quickly tell you to skadaddle and being a private lake we all knew the rules. Joe was a private man and didnt mingle much with the rest of the people who had houses or cabins on the lake, but out of nowhere mister Brewer came to our cabin and said it was ok to stretch one trot line across his beloved cove since Uncle Bill told him of the shortage of fish for the cook out the day earlier when he saw him at the Wal Mart in New Albany while exchanging howdydoos. Little did I know that old Joe fed the fish in his cove every night with dog food and had them trained to come in when he turned the light on that hung over the water off his dock. So on the morning of the 3rd I hooked up a freshly charged battery to the trolling motor on the jon-boat and made my way to Joes cove. I stretched a trot line with 40 2/0 Eagle Claw stainless steel hooks across the width of the cove and tied off one end to a stump about 3 feet from his dock with what I thought was a sturdy knot (Mhmm) and the other end to a root just barley under water. I tied a 1 gallon milk jug to the center of the line to keep it off the bottom because I didnt know what snaggy doom laid beneath, so I played it safe and suspended the bait.... Bait what bait.. Like an idiot I forgot to bring the god awful fowl stinking Magic bait that left your hands smelling like you had been playing in a full cat litter box. No matter I had my fishing poles and crickets with me cause I was gonna catch some big shell crackers and bluegills for the fry on my way back. I started fishing and within 20 minutes I had enough fish to use for cut bait. After baiting I headed back to eat breakfast cause by now the sun was up good and high and I was beginning to bake in the Mississippi summer sun. Normally we would check our lines and jugs after about 6 to 8 hours... Not this time. Being that there wasnt a phone at the cabin ( I call it a cabin but it was a huge A frame that could sleep 3 dozen people comfortably) and way before the cell phone we had no mode of communication with other people that lived and vacationed at the lake and had to actually get in a vehicle or walk to their place. (Imagine that,,, real eye to eye communication) Mister Brewer showed up about 2 hours later and told me the milk jug was on its way out of the cove... He and my uncle Bill seemed quite amused at this. I wasnt at all and jumped in the jon-boat and cranked the 20lb thrust Minkota to its fastest setting and made my way there only to see mister Brewer wasnt kidding. The milk jug was bouncing along about 200 yards from where I had set it heading tward the middle of the lake. I got along side of it 3 times only to have it take a 90 degree turn when just out of arms length. Finally I got ahold of the jug. Dangling below were some empty hooks, baited hooks, 5 small blues all under 4 lbs, a broken root one pitiful excuse for a knot and one monster blue cat that bottomed out our 65lb spring scale. Funny thing is when I got it back to the cabin my uncle Bill made me throw it back after we weighed it because, "We dont eat fish that big."I was devistated... conservation shmonservation I thought. He wouldnt even let me round up someone to take a picture exclaiming " If someone dont believe ya tell them to ask me." He went back out with me a few hours later and showed me the proper way to set a trot line and tie secure knots, we even retied the lines I had set the day before just to make sure and rebaited them all including the Brewer cove line . By the next day we had well over our 75 lbs of eaters closer to 90 I think was the tally. The giant blue and my adventure in catching it was the talk of the holiday, and it turns out the previous lake record was just over 60 lbs. The next spring My uncle Bill sold the cabin and I havent been back since. I wonder if the record still stands. I sure do miss that beautiful lake, and my uncle Bill. He passed away earlier this year. This memory is for him.