Smallmouth Crazy
07-24-2006, 10:03 AM
My father introduced me to fishing at the age of about 3 or 4...there is a picture of him my sister and I at Hoover when I couldnt have been much more than 4...he was riding shotgun over the two of us I guess to make sure that none of the fish pulled a fast one on us or that I didnt fall in the water(a habit I didnt break until about the age of 16) my sister soon gave up fishing to pursue more girly pursuits like talk on the phone to other girls and listen to David Cassidy records..my father and I on the other hand fished every chance that we got..he worked every hour that his job would allow him to and tried to help run a farm/garden(a bug he couldnt shake from his childhood in Meigs county) but he still found time to go fishing..the memories of these endless trips are to numerous to even begin to list here...as a teen I foolishly began to get in trouble at school you know cut class sneak a few beers(among other things) hang out with the wrong crowd and in turn got flunked a couple times throughout the years...caused my mom and dad countless worries and often alot of friction between my father and I...but at the end of the day we always had fishing...so when the day came that I had a son of my own it only seemed natural to put a pole in his hand ASAP...and over these brief years fishing together so far he has caught some fish Im a little jealous of...made me chuckle when he lost a fish at the bank and did the god why have you foresaken me stomp around the bank and generally made me very proud..on one of our trips to a favorite smallie hole a carp of about 6 or 7 pounds grabs my minnow and heads down stream like a mack truck...luckily Im able to turn him and bring him back up towards us and tell my son you better get a look at him because he is probably going to bust my line any second...but he does a couple more mini runs and gives up the fight..as I get this fish on the bank and start to get the hook out I see that he has really bent this hook all to heck and back and it was a wonder that I even got him in...but I throw the fish back in and save the hook as a conversation piece at work...we get home and after shortening the honey-do list a little I call my father and tell him about this carp and how it seemed as though most of the time he had me instead of the other way around...we talk about Baseball and I tell him how much his grandson has taken to fishing and the fact that in a very short period he has caught some fairly descent fish...he chuckles on the other end of the phone and says make sure you keep him at it...and we end the conversation on that...the next afternoon I get a call from my sister to tell me dad was gone...a few days after the funeral my sister and I head down to Meigs county to drive these tiny little back country roads my father and his brothers raised so much hell on back in the 40s and 50s...to see these little farmhouses that dad lived in most of them done in by fathertime...to visit his one brother who never left the hills, and my sister tells me a story about the last time her and dad were down there and how he got excited the minute they crossed the Meigs county line and how he told her that he wished he would have spent more time with me playing Baseball or Football something I could have played in school..she tells him daddy you taught him to fish..99% of the people who play a sport do it for a few years and thats it...he will fish for the rest of his life!!! he chuckles and says I guess your right...I just wanted to say Thanks and let you know me and your Grandson are still at it.