I apologize for how late this week’s post is. I don’t have a consistent computer to use for writing so I keep everything on Google Drive. I went to post yesterday but I couldn’t get my internet to stay connected for more than a few seconds at a time, so I wasn’t able to get far enough into my Drive to get what I had written.
This week I want to write about something I really loved when I was younger; fishing. A large portion of my childhood memories include fishing. A similar proportion of our family photos are us either fishing or on a trip where we went fishing. The funny thing is I don’t have both for one trip. I either remember fishing or I have pictures of us fishing.
One of my earliest memories of fishing was at a lake which I remember going to a few times. That was where I made my first big catch. I’m not sure how much it weighed but it was a decent-sized child, maybe about 4 years old. But after my dad got the hook out of my back I don’t remember catching anything else there.
There was also a small lake which we went camping a few times. I don’t have any memories of fishing there, only camping. There are more photos of us fishing there than anywhere else though.
Fast-forwarding a bit we moved into a house near a river when I was in elementary school. It put me right down the street from the kid who would become my best friend and the next 10 years were full of memories of us going into the woods out back of his house to get the river and go fishing. There was also a land bridge between two ponds about halfway between our houses. We also spent a fair amount of time there. I don’t think both ponds are there anymore. I know they filled in most of the area to put in a Dick’s Sporting Goods warehouse but I don’t know how close they got to the water.
There was also a small pond at my dad’s house. For how small it was there was a surprising amount of fish in it, though we may have just kept catching the same ones over and over. There were also tons of frogs and we would chase around. They’d come up and look at us so we’d run over to them and they’d go under and come up somewhere else.
My dad also took us both on fishing trips. We’d go a couple of towns away and follow the river, stopping wherever we could find a spot. We’d stay for an hour or so before moving on to another spot. As fun as these trips were, it was much more fun when just my dad and I went.
On one of the fishing trips with just my dad and me, we went to an area where I had never been before. We got there and dad handed me a map and said to find a fishing spot. It was pretty fun because I hadn’t used a map before so he showed me how to tell what was a road, what was water, and all the other details about figuring out distance and finding things. I still keep a paper map with me everywhere I go because I can’t guarantee I’ll always have a GPS. Also, I like to just get in the car and drive sometimes so it’s good to have when I’m in the middle of nowhere trying to figure out where to go next.
Now that we own our own house, my wife and I have a creek out back which we can use to go fishing. We don’t have very good access to it at the moment because there is a Japanese Knotweed infestation between us and the water. Once I can manage to completely get rid of that, there is also a huge pile of trash to clear out. The original owners seemed to think the best place to put the things they didn’t need anymore was a pile at the bottom of the hill behind their house. The worst part is I don’t know how much is there because the things I can see are half-buried in mud.
My wife also has fond memories of fishing. Most of hers are with her grandfather when they would all go camping together. She got a tattoo recently of a fishing hook with a heart for the eye and his signature above it. It was her first tattoo and she loves it because people ask about it and she gets to tell them about her grandfather.
A Life, Ensnared 