Tag: fishing

Some of my best childhood memories are of going fishing with my Dad.

There was just something about watching my Dad relax on the riverbank with a fishing rod in one hand and a beer in the other.

I was about 7 when my Dad took me fishing for the first time. He had just bought the farm out Galena, Ohio, way and Big Walnut Creek was only about ½ mile from the house. Grabbing the equipment, we walked down to the banks.

Cracking a beer, Dad handed me the cane pole and told me I needed to bait the hook?

“Bait the hook? With what?” I asked.

“Worms, of course.” Answered my father.

Worm? GROSS!!!!

My Dad gently took my hands and guided me through the process of impaling that poor creature on the fishhook.

“Does this kill the worm?” I asked.

“It’s either eat him or eat a fish. You choose.” Said my Dad.

Well, given that rock or a hard place, of course, I chose the fish.

The cane pole my Dad had brought for me was twice as tall as I was. Quickly, he showed me how to flick the line out over the water but when I tried, I got the hook stuck in the butt of my jeans.

The second try to set the bobber sent my baseball cap for a swim. I had to wander out into the mud to retrieve it but there was no way that was going back on my head that day.

Finally, I got the lure out in the water. The creek was about five foot deep in that spot. I turned to sit on a log and then back to the water.

Something was wrong.

“Hey Dad?”

“Yes, son.”

“Where’s my bobber?”

Turning back my Dad looked and then his eyes opened in surprise. That is when the cane pole twitched in my hands.

“I think you got a fish!” he said.

And, I did. That bobber went up and down and all around.

“Pull it, son.”, he said.

Slowly, I pulled my prize ashore, and it was the biggest fish I had ever seen! (Well, considering the only fish I had seen alive at that point were goldfish – it was!)

My Dad went to look at it and I saw it lying in the palm of his hand. And his hand made it seem tiny.

“Son, this is a bluegill.”

“Do you think we can have it stuffed on the wall?” I asked.

“Um, no, um, we need to throw it back.”

“Why?” I pouted.

“Because it is too small.”

“But it’s my fish….” I even remember the giant frown on my face.

“Sorry, son, but we gotta put it back.” With that, he unhooked the little fish and tossed it back in the creek.

Seeing my disappointment, my Dad suggested we move to a different spot.

“Where the fish might be bigger.”, he said.

We moved about 100 yards down the creek bed and tossed in out lines. Dad had a pretty good afternoon catching several bass but tossing back the catfish (“They taste nasty.”)

My own afternoon passed slowly with only a few nibbles but then —

The bobber sank and the cane pole bent in two!!!

“Dad, I got one!” I cried.

I struggled and struggled to bring in the critter. The more I tried to pull it in the stronger it got!

“Pull, son!” he said as he stepped up to help.

After what seemed an hour, a giant fish appeared, and it was mine!

“Dad, look at how huge that is!”

“It’s big all right.”, he sounded less than enthusiastic. I heard him tell my uncle who was with us what I had caught but I didn’t hear him very well.

“I Caught A SharK!” I said as I began to dance around.

“Son, that’s not what I said.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s a carp.”, he said.

“But it’s HUGE.” I said. “It must be related to a shark. Right?”

“Not quite…”

“But it’s huge. It must be good eating!”

My Dad and my uncle exchanged glances.

“Um, well…”

“Can we have it tonight?”

“Ummm…”

My Dad looked at my uncle in bewilderment. Then, clearly, an idea came to him.

“Hey, son, how about you haul the gear back to the car for me while we take care of the fish?”

“Are we gonna eat it?”

“Tell you what. If you hurry, we will go to McDonald’s”

This is well before there was a McDonald’s on every street corner. The nearest one was about ten miles away.

“MCDONALD’S? YEAHHHHHH!” and streaked to the car.

Oh, we had Filet-o-fish sandwiches from McD’s that night!