Slow-moving, bright lights dotted the edges of the Mississippi Sound Thursday night as Julie and I drove along Highway 90 in Gulfport.

We were headed to the Gulf Coast for the Mississippi Press Association’s convention.

Julie was a little puzzled by the lights, but they were a familiar sight for me.

The lights belonged to people who appeared to be “floundering.”

That’s a Coast term for the practice of gigging flounder — flat fish that like to settle in the shallows at night and are popular for their good taste.

The premise is simple: you slowly wade into the waters along the beach at low tide, shining a bright light into the water ahead of you.

When you see a dark spot, you spear it with a gig, carefully get a hold of the fish and put it on a stringer.

As a child, Dad would take me to go floundering along with my older brother.

I was mostly too little to be of much help, so my role was to be quiet and stay out of trouble.

Dad used this old modified Coleman camp lantern, the kind that used a form of kerosene as fuel and had to be pressurized by a small little pump affixed to the fuel tank.

The light was too big for me and the gig was too dangerous for me so I was the third-wheel of floundering.

So Dad just had to deal with me. I was always sort of underfoot for him.

But occasionally, I’d bug him enough to be able to hold the light briefly or walk with the gig. His hand was probably just above mine for safety.

Dad taught me many lessons in life — a few which were while floundering. Floundering requires skills that are good for life in general.

4 Walk carefully, but deliberately through the water and don’t make a lot of waves.

4 Don’t shine the light in Dad’s eyes.

4 Keep your eyes always looking just beyond the reach of your light — what’s in the light will be obvious, it’s what’s next that needs attention.

4 Don’t gig your brother’s foot.

4 If you’re going to do something — like gigging a flounder — don’t do it half-heartedly. Do it with full force and to the greatest of your ability.

4 Always pay attention to what your role is on a team — if you’re holding the light, don’t be distracted, for example.

4 Make sure you know what to do if things go wrong — like accidentally gigging a stingray.

Dad was — and still is — a tinkerer and pretty much could fix anything that needed fixing.

Through the years, he’s taught me volumes of information on how to live, how to work and how to treat others.

As the light of the floundering lights faded as Julie and I neared the blazing lights of casino row, I couldn’t help but think about all of the many “Dad” lessons being taught day in and day out.

For all of this lessons — and the lessons that continue being taught by his example today — I’ll forever be grateful.

As we drove along the beach, it’s obvious the Mississippi Gulf Coast has been through a heck of an ordeal trying to recover after Hurricane Katrina, and they’re making the best of it they can.

And under the glow of lanterns slowly hovering over the salty waters of the Coast, I have to believe the next generation of Mississippians is learning lessons of how to get by through the worst of circumstances, led by some amazing examples of daddies.

Happy Father’s Day to all.

Kevin Cooper is publisher of The Natchez Democrat. He can be reached at 601-445-3539 or kevin.cooper@natchezdemocrat.com.