My Dad was a very avid fisherman in his youth and early adulthood, fished often with his dad for Pike, Musky, Walleye and Catfish in the Midwest. They were not fly fishing, and both thought fly fishing was kind of elitist way of wasting quality outdoor time; waving some expensive stick around scaring every fish within a mile, when they could be catching some on proper gear. He kind of lost interest in fishing after returning home from Vietnam, for a variety of reasons.
I recall one visit with my Grandparents (must have been 7 or 8 at the time), where it somehow slipped in conversation that I had never been fishing yet. My Grandfather, one of the most calm and stoic men I’ve ever known, was visibly and audibly stunned! He gave my father such a look, and the tone of his voice reached a new level I’d never heard. “You mean to say you have NEVER taken your son fishing? Ever?!!!” For all I could tell, my Grandfather had just found out his son was beating his grandson, and was stepping in to put an immediate end to the injustice.
We made arrangements to fish at 6am the following day at a local lake. We caught several planter rainbows on worms under a bobber, which honestly wasn’t all that exciting for me. Spending some quality time just the three of us out in the mountains was very special though. I think my favorite part of the day was snickering with my Grandfather as my Dad threw a particularly choice cursing fit over a giants birdsnest in his reel. I also couldn’t help but notice that the conversations with my Grandfather that day had a markedly different tone; we talked of much more “real” and meaningful topics, and I realized that this day meant a lot more than just pulling some fish in. My Grandmother made a fine fried fish dinner that night, and we laughed and joked about fish, birdsnests, and who caught the biggest one. It sparked an interest in fishing for me, and it rekindled my Dads interest in fishing too; soon we both had spinning rods and were exploring countless lakes and streams near home as well as on distant road trips we took every summer. Fishing with spinners was infinitely more interesting to me, but I was also very curious about the idea of catching trout on the surface with a fly rod...
I got introduced to fly fishing through a 20 minute casting class as part of an electives day in 8th grade, though my Dad was most decidedly not supportive or encouraging of my interest. I was so interested in it though, I bought my own cheapo fly rod kit with some money I’d saved from my job of waging war on the backyard blackberry vines (although the pay was low, there was never any lack of work available).
I think my favorite part of the whole story is that despite my Dad’s stubborn resistance to the silliness of fly fishing, I did convince him to borrow my fly rod one afternoon and he did manage to catch a couple of small trout on an attractor dry fly. It was maybe a month later that he had his own, much nicer, fly rod and reel. I can’t remember exactly how long, but it seemed that within a year or so he had a small “quiver” of fly rods...a trend that continued. We are lucky to get to fish together once or twice a year for a week or so now (usually for salmon and steelhead) and many of my happiest memories are of times we have spent camping, fishing, or just watching the river go by together. I wish my Grandfather could have had a chance to see just what a dramatic role he played in my life’s trajectory that day, or the substantial impact it made on my relationship with my Dad. On the one hand, I think that he could not have known just how profound that single day would have on my life; but on the other hand, I know that he was quite deliberate about sharing the experience with me the same way he had shared so many happy times with my Dad. Who knows, I might have even convinced him to try waving my “silly fly pole” around if his health had held up just a few more years? Either way, I’m so glad he scolded my Dad for not taking me fishing that day ...
Last edited by JasonB; 12-17-2020 at 11:25 AM.
"Lord help me to be the person my dog thinks I am"
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