A Fish Story

Though trout season in Pennsylvania has been in full swing for the past couple weeks now, I wasn't among the first-day anglers seen flocking to the streams on Saturday, April 12th.
I used to go on the first day.  But after awhile, you get tired of standing shoulder-to-shoulder with others trying to catch their limit, usually ending with 'throwbacks'. 
I've been fishing since I was six years old.  In recent years, my best friend and I have been setting aside a weekend or two to go out and set aside the doldrums of daily life for the sake of getting back to basics.
This is really what it's all about...especially to those who ask "wouldn't it be easier to go out to Long John Silver's if you want fish?"
It's so much more than catching the meal of the day, if you're a survivalist.
Babe Winkelman, the Minnesota-based professional fisherman who still hosts his weekly how-to TV program, taught conservation in addition to his pattern approach to fishing that brings in the big ones.
His approach, once found successful, could make one dangerous to the fishing population, he claimed.  Therefore, he called upon anglers to release smaller fish to allow them time to grow and spawn, and to keep only a select few to eat.
For me, it's about the beauty and splendor of the outdoors.  The tranquility of the streams over well-worn rocks that will still remain long after you and I are gone.  The rustle of a gentle breeze through the forest.  Wading into cold knee-deep water (in your waders, of course) to be "one" with your potential catch.  Knowing you're not alone in the world, as you intrude upon space where wildlife sleeps.
I don't care if I don't catch anything, truth be told.  But it's nice to know you can...when you can freely leave your briefcase at home and pick up the tackle box, heading to the nearest trout stream.
And sadly, this is a part of our culture that the next generation is losing sight of.
Neo-conservationalists, animal rights activists and vegans preach the cruelty of fishing and convince others to abandon the practice entirely.
Living off the land is nothing new.  It dates back to Biblical times.  Are we so much in this world that we've forgotten what it's like to survive on our own?
As it's often said, "give a man a fish, you feed him for a day.  Teach him to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime."
This is why I'm an advocate of the Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts of America, our military personnel, and the concept of hunting and fishing. 
Maybe we don't have to struggle to survive now.  But if push came to shove, we know we could do it, with these skills.
My daughter often asks me if I can take her fishing with me one of these days.
I tell her someday.  And I mean it.
But for right now, I'm content with her playing with her dolls, picking flowers, and coloring in her books.  Fishing does require a considerable amount of silence, patience and attention, and those attributes are not something a soon-to-be five-year-old has at this stage of the game.
She has the rest of her life to decide if she wants to follow in her daddy's footsteps.
And I'll be ready.



NEXT WEEK:  Officer Bob

Resurrection Shuffle

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaccccccck....
Well, another Lenten season has come and gone with today being Easter Sunday.  Again, I stuck to my intent of giving up social media for what I call the "Full 40".  That is, giving up Facebook and LinkedIn for the full 40 days, rather than relying on the Sunday dispensation day where I could indulge.
I chose that because growing up, either we didn't have dispensation or the knowledge of it was kept from me all this time.  The sacrifice, to me, is much more effective (painful) if you go the full 40.
Pope Francis, you picked a good one.  This one stung.
Big time.
My twelve-year-old nephew Alex said to me one day "didn't you do that last year?"
This kid's memory astounds me.
I did do it last year.  But I took advantage of the Sunday Lenten Loophole.  This time I was determined not to.  As most athletic coaches will tell you, it doesn't do any good unless it hurts.
And this one stung like a bee.  Not the yellow jacket kind, either.  The kind from the fat bumblebee where you have to take a butterknife to scrape out the stinger and hope you weren't allergic to the venom.
Ow.
It's had it's advantages, though.  I've learned to like fish on Fridays.  Not that I had any problem with it to begin with, but my wife has been willing to prepare fish dishes for dinner or allow me to take her and our daughter out to places that feature fish on the menu.
It just can't be a fast-food joint is all.  No problem on my end.
A lot has also happened in that 40 days.  I've had another "Chicken Soup for the Soul" story accepted for publication in May, and am working on a memoir about the time I've spent in radio.
The latter came from the suggestion of co-workers and colleagues of mine since leaving the business, who have told me that I should write about the stories I tell about the business from time to time.  After realizing that few people have heard them, I've decided that's not such a bad idea.  Especially after my fellow 'retirees' have done the same thing and have had success of it.
I've also reconnected with some colleagues who did not know of my departure from radio and couldn't understand why.  After telling them that I've left the business voluntarily and why, they seem to understand.
And to my surprise, I've found that some others also want to leave it, but aren't sure of what the next step is.
The next step for me was to lean on my family.  The rest kind of fell into place. 
George Osmond, better known as "Father Osmond" to fans of his pop band brood from the 1970's, often gave his boys a pep talk before they went onstage.
"Faith, family, career...in that order."
This is where I pause and say "I got nothin'".



NEXT WEEK:  A Fish Story