Fishing is something I grew up with. My father spent many hours teaching my brothers and I how to cast, bait a hook, take a fish off the line, where to cast to catch the “big” bass and a slew of other tips and tricks.
As a child, I spent many summer days in boats, on shorelines, on docks, anywhere a line could be cast, but a passion for fishing did not seem to come naturally to me. Despite many efforts, I found the sport of fishing to be quite dull. Sitting in a boat with flies swarming, the sun baking the tops of my knees holding onto a rod in hopes that some slimy fish decided to eat my lure was never appealing.
When I was nine years old, my father took us fishing on Six Mile Lake. At the time, I had an irrational fear of dragonflies and for some reason, our boat seemed to attract quite a few that day. When one landed on my shoulder, this fear resulted in me screaming, flapping my arms, standing up and upsetting the boat. I almost tipped all of us into the water. I’m pretty sure that was the day that my father decided not to take me fishing anymore.
Recently, while near the river with my son, we passed some kids fishing with their grandfather. We stopped to see if they had caught anything. Their grandfather quickly offered my son an extra rod so he could join in. And so it began – four boys casting out in hopes of catching a fish.
Within minutes, I was in the water unsnagging lures from stumps. I stood beside the kids praising well executed casts, giving tips on when to jerk the rod up at just the precise moment to hook a fish, and when a fish was caught, I quickly unhooked it and tossed it back into the water. I had to chuckle and appreciate the effort my dad spent teaching me what I needed to know about fishing. I may not be a willing candidate for an early morning fishing trip, but my father’s persistence paid off and he has a daughter who can teach her kids to fish as well as protect him from dragonflies.
By Danielle McNelly, Nortech for Windows, Doors & Sunrooms