... where family is the source of humor!

At Home With The Fishes by Jeffrey Sachs

A brother who can recall rolling his eyes in exasperation at a little sister ... well, he definitely can have me relate while remembering the times I caused my own brother to do the same. Don't take my word for it though. See for yourself if Jeffrey won't have the fisherman among us smiling and chuckling while sharing memories of a fishing trip with you!

Samuel Johnson once said the following. "A fishing-rod was a stick with a hook at one end and a fool at the other." Clearly Johnson took a dim view of the art of angling. I on the other hand have always enjoyed fishing. For one thing going fishing does not actually require that you catch any fish. You merely have to intend to try to catch fish. You can't fail at going fishing (unless of course you don't even show up). There aren't many hobbies or sports you can say that about! A lot of people don't enjoy fishing because of the lack of activity associated with it. This however has always been one of its major appeals for me. How many sports do you know of where you can do almost nothing and still be doing them? Since I have always been somewhat gifted where sloth was concerned, it was the perfect sport for me

I remember the first time that my sister and I went fishing. We were about fourteen at the time and had managed to talk our father into taking us fishing down at the Jersey shore. My father had no love of fishing, as he did not share my pension for indolence. Still he bought us some inexpensive poles and reels and set about to teach us to cast. To convey this lesson, he took us to, of all places, to an isolated area of the local park. I suspect that this was because while there was little possibility of our catching anything there was also little chance of our killing anyone. Actually that wasn't quite true. By the end of the afternoon we had managed to catch a nice selection of tree limbs, bushes and brambles that the old man was forced to dig through in an effort to rescue our lines. At least he could no longer argue that you got no exercise out of fishing! The grand finale came when my sister managed to hook the limbs of a rather aggressive maple, giving my father the opportunity to demonstrate his tree climbing skills (which we quickly discovered were singularly limited). After scaling twelve feet up into the limbs of the tree, he got to spend the next forty-five minutes untangling hooks, sinkers and lines. After this arduous job he was faced with the challenge of getting down from the tree which is not as easy as it sounds. For a time, we thought he might have to spend the night nesting but he finally managed to extricate himself from his perch and regain solid ground. At that point he had exhausted most of his patience and all of his language and decided to throw in the towel. As we walked back he was in stony silence. Clearly his experience imitating the great apes had put him in a bad mood. I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if a police officer had happened along while we were in the midst of our practice. I would have loved to have heard my dad try to explain why we were fishing in trees. As far as I know, it is not illegal, but he still might have had to take a Breathalyzer to extricate himself from that one!

Next stop was the Jersey shore! We ended up out on a pier with a number of other intrepid anglers, ready to bring in the big ones! My casting technique had not benefited much from the practice, and I used a basic lariat approach that caused most of the more experienced fishermen to hit the deck every time I prepared to let loose. Body piercing had not gained it present popularity in those days and a fishhook through the ear was not considered a fashion statement. I may not have earned the respect of my fellow fishermen but I certainly garnered their fear. For the rest of the afternoon, I sat patiently waiting to hook into a denizen of the sea. Unfortunately the fish appeared to have taken the day off and I was having no luck. I can't say that I felt bad about this as no one else was doing any better. Well, almost no one was. My sister was hauling in fish one after another. True they were all trash fish, Sea robins, eels and skates, but she was catching them! This was causing some of the more experienced anglers to become a bit disgruntled. There is nothing worse for a serious fisherman with a couple hundred dollars worth of lures poles and reels, than being skunked by a thirteen year old girl with a twenty-five dollar rig. They really get annoyed! Some of them actually began asking her what sort of bait she was using and how she picked her spot etc. Their worse fears were confirmed when they discovered that she didn't have the slightest idea what she was doing only that it worked

I on the other hand had caught plenty of nothing all day and was about ready to call it quits. If we had to live on what I caught we would have had to eat the bait. Then I finally snagged the big one! From the weight on the line and the bend in my pole I knew I was in for a challenging time. But the true angler does not quake at such thoughts and I manfully began playing my quarry with all the skill I could muster. For fifteen minutes I fought the good fight as the line played out, then I reeled back in until I was finally able to bring my prize up out of the water. It was truly impressive. I had managed to catch one of the largest burlap bags ever brought out of Jersey waters! Ultimately, I was forced to toss it back as the idea of having my picture taken next to a burlap bag did not seem all that enticing.

We finally decided to call it a day and headed back to the motel. As we drove into the parking lot I noticed a sign in the window of the restaurant attached to the motel. It read "Bring in your catch of the day and challenge our chef!" I can't help but wonder what sort of culinary masterpiece he would have created from the burlap bag. You certainly couldn't have complained about lack of fiber in you diet. In the end I suppose it was just as well that I didn't bring it in, as I was never that fond of seafood anyway.

Humorous Book Recommendations:             [ view all ]
Seven Out of Ten Missing Fishhooks Will Eventually Be Found in an Angler's Thumb: A Fishing Humor Book
[Sandy Lindsey; 164 pages]
Sandy does her best to delight some fishermen with some of her humor. Yoo-hoo, all you fishermen folk out there - can you relate?

The beauty of 'spacing' children many years apart lies in the fact that parents have time to learn the mistakes that were made with older ones -- which permits them to make exactly the opposite mistakes with the younger ones.
-- Sydney J. Harris

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