And I have seen two major episodes of red snapper mania on Gulf waters, that of the 1950s and the one now raging among voting-age Alabamians about the laws governing the snapper catch. I have lived long enough to see two major epidemics of football mania, those triggered by Bear Bryant and Nick Saban.

Snapper bounty from a 2017 fishing trip with three generations of Raines men. I do bend the rules, though, when it comes to freezing the two species that have Proustian resonance for me, crappie and red snapper. It’s usually not much of a sacrifice, since I find freezing takes the bloom off the flavors of redfish and speckled trout. Now that I’m back on the Gulf Coast at Mayberry-by-the-Bay, better known as Fairhope, I’ve drifted back to the basics with the notable exception that I try not to kill any fish that I’m not going to eat right away. To me, it connotes the joys of live-bait fishing that I learned on Guntersville Lake and on the Gulf waters at Panama City. The chapter elaborates on an autobiographical statement that appears in the opening pages: “I was born in the Heart of Dixie and raised in the Redneck Way of Fishing.” If you are one of those Southerners still touchy about the word “redneck,” stop reading now. Now I tend to identify more with the 15th chapter of that book, which is entitled “Back Sliding Down the Redneck Way.” I was pretty much a fly fishing purist in those days when I was more tolerant of the irritants of airplane travel and willing to fish anywhere in the world that struck my fancy. I t’s been 25 years since my book, “Fly Fishing Through the Midlife Crisis,” made the best-seller list of The New York Times.

My Soul Is Rested by Howell Raines