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Topic: Fishing (06/07/04)
TITLE: When I Fish, I Remember By Mary Sue Smith 06/14/04 |
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By
Mary Sue Smith
There is nothing quite like sitting on the bank of a pond or lake with a fishing pole in my hands and my eyes glued on a cork waiting to feel a tug, and then to watch it go under. I’ve got him! There’s a fish on the end of the line! He has my bait and he is trying to get away. There is always the hope that this is going to be the biggest one I have ever caught or, at least, the biggest one caught by any of my fishing buddies.
I am not sure, though, that all the good feelings that come from a fishing adventure come because of my competitive nature. Many of those feelings, I believe, come from the memories that such an adventure invokes.
As a youngster, my mother, my siblings and I would dig fishing worms and anxiously wait for my dad to return home from a long day’s work as a carpenter to take us to a pond to fish.
My dad loved to fish and all the tiredness that was present when he got home from work seemed to go away once he put his fishing pole in the water and took a seat on the bank of the pond.
Usually, we would fish until we had enough fish for supper. We called that a “mess of fish.”
I remember how wonderful those fish tasted, but more than that I remember the warm, cozy feeling that came from doing something together as a family---something simple like fishing.