Here is a little story about how I got hooked on fishing...

Hope you enjoy it.

I call it: Fishing with Dad

One night, my father and one of the other men on the street decided to take a few of the kids fishing. I begged and pleaded and finally they gave in and let me go. I guess they figured that as young as I was, I?d be asleep within a few minutes after getting there and they could let me sleep while they fished with the other kids who were double my age that or maybe they just got tired of all of the whining.

Either way, they finally gave in and let me go. Unlike the other kids, this was my first chance to go fishing with my dad and I was sure I was going to have fun and that I was going to love every minute of it. I was so excited that I couldn?t? stand still as we packed up the car to go to the nearby state park.

During the ride, I wondered what was going to happen. I wasn?t sure but I was excited just to be along for the ride.

When we arrived, we unpacked the car, and started walking. After we walked for what felt like hours, we finished the two hundred yard trip down the trail from the parking lot to the edge of the lake.

Dad took out a rod and real for each of the kids and showed each of them how to bait the hook, set the depth of the line under the bobber, and cast it out into the dark night. He finally came to me and showed me what to do. I tried a few times but didn?t quite get it right so he helped me to cast the line. I figured that would be the end of the fishing for me because I couldn?t do it right. So, I sat down and looked for the bobber. The light from the lantern only reached about twenty feet and I could just barely see the flash of red and white as it bounced on the water. The other kids pulled their line in, checked their bait, and cast back out. I watched and tried to do it too. Dad had to help me several times to cast it back out. The other kids got bored and were running around, skipping stones, and eventually they got tired and fell asleep in the sleeping bags.

I tried to cast.

Dad helped.

I tried to cast.

Dad helped.

Finally, I got to the point that I was casting on my own. Then, I was casting, watching, and waiting for the big fish I just knew was waiting to eat my worm. I watched the bobber like a hawk watching mice because I was sure that it would go under at any second. Every time the wind blew and the bobber bounced, I picked up the rod to catch the fish that was eating the worm. Each time, I put it back without it going under.

Dad eventually sat down beside me on the bank, and together we watched and watched as the bobber floated. Sometime during the night, the motion of the bobber and the late hour put me to sleep. I woke up the next morning at home in bed sure that it was just another dream. I got up and saw the mud stained jeans on the floor and still couldn?t believe it.

I went outside later to play and the other kids were complaining that we didn?t catch any fish. I listened to them complain for a while and then realized I didn?t really care about the fish. The anticipation, the possibility, and the real truth was that I was fishing with my dad and that was more than enough.