My son and I went fishing with some buddies over the weekend. We headed out first thing Saturday morning to a small lake not far from our neighborhood, one equipped with a nice spacious pier. We got dirty. We got slimy. We got smelly.
It was my son's first time fishing and my first time in probably 25 years. It was cool to become reacquainted with the sport (it's a sport, right?) at the invitation of our easygoing friends, who generously brought all the necessary rods, reels and gear. We just had to bring the snacks.
My son caught three smallish sunfish, and I lucked onto a few myself. Actually, they may have been the same ones for all I know. We were throwing them back and they looked hungry.
My son eventually tired of the experience and began playing with his pals in the shoreline mud. But I continued to give the fish a hard time, baiting my hook with live minnows, dropping my line in the shallow water, watching intently for movement or a twitch of a tail. I yearned to feel the struggle at the end of my line and pull my hook from the bloodied mouth of a flapping, scaly, totally spooked fish. Wow, when I put it that way, it doesn't sound so nice, does it?
"Fishing is boring, unless you catch an actual fish, and then it is disgusting.” – Dave Barry
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