Monday, November 15, 2004

My very first fishing trip

When I was about 3 or 4 years old, my father took the family to a dam in Texarkana. It was a local fishing hole and picnic area. We went with his friends and their families as well. This was the day I was to get my first fishing experience. When we first came to this country, fishing was how we kept food on the table every night. That was my dad's ritual. He would work long hours during the day and fish right after work until he caught something for dinner. So, for my dad, it was like he was passing down survival knowledge to his son.

I'll never forget it. He set up the rod and reel, attached a hook, baited it, and launched it right into the water. Then, he handed it to me. I was so excited. I really didn't know what to do. I just remember I was so excited to be doing something that my father was doing. I remember sitting close to the edge of the water, just waiting for something to happen. What that something was supposed to be, I wasn't sure. I just knew we, the boys...the men, were going to bring home some fish. Then it happened, something caused the fishing pole to shake just a little. The shake turned into a snapping jerk. It got a little stronger. Eventually, the line started to move in the water. Unfortunately, my dad wasn't paying attention so he missed watching the pole move. This went on for about 5 minutes. All of a sudden, it stopped. About 15 minutes passed by after the rod stopped moving. My father told me that he needed to check the bait. When he reeled it in, the bait was gone. My father asked me if I felt any fish tugging at the end of the line. I told him I felt something pull the pole. He then asked me why I didn't reel it in. My answer? "You didn't tell me to." Realizing that I had no idea what I was doing at the time, my father laughed a little bit. Eventually, my father showed me how to fish. Since then, I've grown to love fishing. Thanks dad for teaching me.