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Rusty's Ramblings

Published:
1-June-2005

Gone fishin'

Fishing season opened last month. I love to fish. I don't always have as much time to fish as I'd like so I fit it in where I can. I carry my fishing gear in the trunk of my car when I'm working. My job calls for me to travel around New England. I'm the only idiot in a necktie fishing for trout along a stream at lunchtime. My girls love to fish as well. They had spring vacation last month so I took off work that Monday and brought them fishing for the first time this year. We got up early that morning to go dig some worms. They love the digging part. They hate the worm part. Anyway they went at our backyard with their shovels with great gusto. "Daddy over here, I see one". "Daddy daddy, come quick he's disappearing". Of course they couldn't both dig in the same section of yard. Kristin chose one corner and Kari chose another. I'm running back and forth between them like a crazy man picking up these tiny little worms. Finally we have enough worms for our trip. While my girls are putting their shovels away, I'm looking at what's left of my yard. It kind of looks like a scene from Saving Private Ryan. I load all of our gear into the car and we're off.

I have a secret pond I like. I always brag about the fish I catch there. Whenever someone asks where it is, I lie. I'm telling my girls as we travel to the pond that this is a big secret and they can't tell anyone where it is. Yeah right.

The excitement is rising in the car as we travel down the dirt road that that leads to our secret destination. "Oh yeah daddy, I remember this place now"! We unload our fishing poles, tackle boxes, and our hard fought cache of miniature worms. As I'm baiting their hooks (their not crazy about the worm part, remember) I'm giving them a refresher course on how to cast. I can tell they're not really listening by the crazed look in their eyes. All they want to do is to start catching fish and they can't do that if I'm yapping in their ears. I hand each of them a pole with a baited hook and then throw my arms over my head duck down and start screaming. Without a second thought they both had just taken their pole turned around and whipped them over their shoulders to cast. I've got two razor sharp, worm-smeared hooks whizzing around my head, not to mention sinkers, bobbins, and very whippy fiberglass pole tips. They look back at me like, now what? As I regain my feet, if not my complete composure, I'm still gasping as I explain to them they need to be aware of what's behind them before they cast. My youngest looks at me all red faced and gasping, not quite comprehending my close brush with fishhook disaster and says "daddy, you should have quit smoking sooner". I grit my teeth and grimly repeat over and over in my mind, don't push her in, don't push her in. We finally get ready for our first cast of the season. Back go the poles; bales open, fingers lightly on the line.fire! Forward shoot both girls' poles with the perfect amount of wrist snap just like dad has taught them. POW! Both lines hit the water about two feet out disintegrating the worms and causing both girls to look back at me like it was my fault they both forgot to let go of the line. Okay, another quick casting refresher, re-worm their hooks and they were in business. They were fishing!

Okay, my turn. I head over to what looks like a perfect spot to catch some large-mouth bass. "Dad, my worm is gone". Back over I go to re-worm the hook. I explain that they must pay more attention to the bobbin. The little fish are nibbling away your bait.

Okay, my turn. Splash! By the size of the splash I can tell without looking it wasn't a fish. I look over and Kristin is knee deep in the water. "Sorry daddy, this rock is slippery". I admonish her to be more careful, that the rock is in fact slippery, and prepare for my first perfect cast of the season. Splash! I look over again. This time Kari is in water up to her neck. She had fallen forward to her hands and knees. She stands up in knee deep water and shouts over to me "You're right dad, that rock is slippery". What are you going to do? They're yours.

Anyway, after several more splashes that weren't quite the accidents they were proclaimed to be, and in fact after a while it sort of became a swimming trip, I reached that Zen phase of cast and retrieves that fishermen dream about.

As we were packing up all of our gear it dawned on me. We had just taken an entire fishing trip and the thought of diabetes had never entered my mind. I asked Kari about it. She too said the same thing with a little bit of wonder in her voice. I could see her in my rear view mirror pondering this wonderful phenomenon as we headed home. I had tears in my eyes as I thought to myself that my baby had just spent several wonderful hours as a normal kid. My mission in life right now is to make that happen again for her.

By the way, the total take for the fishing trip was 1 pickerel that tail walked for me before spitting out the hook. A one-inch long shiner that Kristin caught with her bare hands, and best of all a quarter sized turtle that Kari caught and named Quizz. I know she'll be looking for her buddy next time out.

Not quite ready for my own fishing show,

Rusty