I know we have some fishermen and women in here. Tell us about your first fish. Here's mine.
F I R S T F I S H
This is a very vivid memory, much more so than any
other in that time of my life. In fact, my only
memories of that age are fishing. When I discovered
girls, well those are some vivid memories too, but
that's ANOTHER story
My dad introduced me to fishing when I was 5 years
old. He didn't know how it was going to go so my
mother came along and just sat in the car and read a
book while Dad and I went out on one of the smaller
piers in the bay (no longer there). She said that I
wouldn't last 15 minutes so she'd come along just to
get out of the house (no fisher-woman, she). I had no
such illusions, myself...I KNEW it was gonna be a
thing I would love.
I had been after him for some time
to take me, after listening to him and his friends
talk about it incessantly, and eventually I wore him
down. I slept fitfully the night before our trip and
had to pretend to be asleep when he came in to roust
me out of bed. I'll never forget his words:
"up-and-at-'em young man, we're burnin' daylight!" My
heart was pounding and I was barely able to breathe I
was so excited.
When we got there and started fishing,
Dad immediately got into the big specs, catching one
on each of his first 4 casts. He had me fishing a
piece of dead shrimp on a small rod and reel(I don't
remember what kind) and all of a sudden my line got
hard and my rod started to bend and I nearly went
ape-****. Dad coached me and talked me into a perfect
catch. Turned out to be a good sized piggy-perch. A
bait stealer, by most accounts but it sure looked
impressive to this first time fisher-boy!
Well, now...I just HAD to show this spectacular
creature to my mother. After all, wasn't she the one
that thought I didn't have the "stuff" to be a
fisherman??!??
I went hauling up the pier to where the
car was parked and just when I got to the parking area
(dirt and shell), the fish squirted out of my hands
like a wet bar of soap. I picked it up and took off
running again with my dirt covered fish, his eyes
bulging from the death's grip I had around his body.
Mom was sitting on the passenger side of the car with
the windows rolled down and lost in the paperback book
she was reading. In my glee, I shoved the fish inside
the window while yelling, "Momma, Momma, look what I
caught!" The fish chose that precise moment to make
another lunge at freedom only this time he hit my
mother, who had now turned to face the source of all
the yelling, right square in the kisser.
Needless to
say, this was a major impediment to her ability to
celebrate the splendor and thrill of my first fish
with me. I scared her very badly. Anyway, my
dad saw raw ability and fierce passion in me that day
and spent the rest of the time I lived at home
teaching me what he knew about what turned out to be
my life's passion.
I know that a 5 year old kid isn't
supposed to be able to think much about the future but
I KNEW the moment I felt the power of that little
piggy work it's way up the line, into the rod and up
into my 5 year old hands, arms, and shoulders, that
with out any doubt what so ever, this was a thing I'd
love my entire life.
F I R S T F I S H
This is a very vivid memory, much more so than any
other in that time of my life. In fact, my only
memories of that age are fishing. When I discovered
girls, well those are some vivid memories too, but
that's ANOTHER story
My dad introduced me to fishing when I was 5 years
old. He didn't know how it was going to go so my
mother came along and just sat in the car and read a
book while Dad and I went out on one of the smaller
piers in the bay (no longer there). She said that I
wouldn't last 15 minutes so she'd come along just to
get out of the house (no fisher-woman, she). I had no
such illusions, myself...I KNEW it was gonna be a
thing I would love.
I had been after him for some time
to take me, after listening to him and his friends
talk about it incessantly, and eventually I wore him
down. I slept fitfully the night before our trip and
had to pretend to be asleep when he came in to roust
me out of bed. I'll never forget his words:
"up-and-at-'em young man, we're burnin' daylight!" My
heart was pounding and I was barely able to breathe I
was so excited.
When we got there and started fishing,
Dad immediately got into the big specs, catching one
on each of his first 4 casts. He had me fishing a
piece of dead shrimp on a small rod and reel(I don't
remember what kind) and all of a sudden my line got
hard and my rod started to bend and I nearly went
ape-****. Dad coached me and talked me into a perfect
catch. Turned out to be a good sized piggy-perch. A
bait stealer, by most accounts but it sure looked
impressive to this first time fisher-boy!
Well, now...I just HAD to show this spectacular
creature to my mother. After all, wasn't she the one
that thought I didn't have the "stuff" to be a
fisherman??!??
I went hauling up the pier to where the
car was parked and just when I got to the parking area
(dirt and shell), the fish squirted out of my hands
like a wet bar of soap. I picked it up and took off
running again with my dirt covered fish, his eyes
bulging from the death's grip I had around his body.
Mom was sitting on the passenger side of the car with
the windows rolled down and lost in the paperback book
she was reading. In my glee, I shoved the fish inside
the window while yelling, "Momma, Momma, look what I
caught!" The fish chose that precise moment to make
another lunge at freedom only this time he hit my
mother, who had now turned to face the source of all
the yelling, right square in the kisser.
Needless to
say, this was a major impediment to her ability to
celebrate the splendor and thrill of my first fish
with me. I scared her very badly. Anyway, my
dad saw raw ability and fierce passion in me that day
and spent the rest of the time I lived at home
teaching me what he knew about what turned out to be
my life's passion.
I know that a 5 year old kid isn't
supposed to be able to think much about the future but
I KNEW the moment I felt the power of that little
piggy work it's way up the line, into the rod and up
into my 5 year old hands, arms, and shoulders, that
with out any doubt what so ever, this was a thing I'd
love my entire life.
