So I love to fish.
Yes, any chance I get but salt water only, thank you. I grew up on Galveston Bay. Dad and I fished from my earliest memories until he passed. In fact the majority of our one on one time was on the water with a fishing rod in our hands.
I come by it honesty My grandfather was a commercial fisherman after he gave up his barber scissors. He and my Dad fished together for years as well.
Dad taught me that he could be as close to God on the water Sunday morning as he could be sitting on a church pew. Honestly, as a kid, I was always abso-freaking-lutely thrilled to get out of church by going fishing. Mom didn’t like it much but Dad didn’t give a crap.
He taught me how to not give a crap. And it took a few years before I finally figure it (and him) out.
So Dad passed away 25 years ago. One of the last things he said to me was “keep ’em fishing”. Why that? Why not, take care of your Mom? We both knew he was dying. But why fishing?
There is an old adage, which was likely first started by the fishing tackle and boating industry, its hard for a kid to get in trouble with a fishing rod in his hand. That is true. Idle hands and the devil and all that. But fishing normally fosters conversation. I say normally because I have a few friends that I could fish with for three hours and never say a word. But I digress yet again.
Its such a great chance to talk to your kids. I know since my wife and I changed our lifestyle to Dom/sub, the family has noticed. We are setting the example. Wish we had done it sooner. Way sooner, specifically when the kids were little. But no regrets, we are here now.
It’s given me a chance to have what I call “leadership talks” with my 26 yr old son now while we fish. We talk about leading. We talk about responsibility. We talk about recognizing his mission. We talked about our #MenOfMarch experience. Father/Son 31 days of self improvement this past March. We talk about women. We talk about sex. We talk about life.
Tonight I was solo on the water Just me and Dad and sadly not quite enough fish! Dad used to say, “the fishing was good, but the catching was lousy.” You know how you whistle to your dog to come to you? Dad used to whistle up the fish to come to the boat Not a fishing trip goes by without me keeping that tradition alive.
Solo with my thoughts and one really nice big trout that came by to say hi, please eat me. I revel in my freedom on the water; a boat ride to and from an old wrecked shrimp boat; the waves softly lapping up against the hull while anchored; the silence of human voices. Zen fishing perhaps.
Peace descends upon my soul and I am part of this body of water, this setting sun, these cloud layers undulating in the gentle breeze leaving me free to chat up the old man. Peace. Finally and again.