Good memories, and a few tears to go with them

He’s alive! And, he remembered his promise to e-mail me. It’s nothing major in his latest e-mail, apparently, he tried to send me one Monday that probably had more to it but it got lost in transfer and I never got it. I’ll be in town this weekend and MAY have free time to hang out with him, but if the weather holds out he’ll be out sailing with his grand daughter and unavailable. I hope it works out for them; sailing is where I would rather be too and those one-on-one moments between grandparent and child are priceless.

(sniff, sniff)

I still remember the first time my grandfather took me out fishing, I think I was about seven or eight, and Dad had been too busy with work to spend that kind of time with me. Grandpa taught me how to pick the slimy worms from the bucket of dirt, wrap them around the hook, and spear them so they didn’t wriggle their way off. He helped me perfect my casting and explained, after the third or fourth fish got away, that when the little red and white bobber goes under water you need to quickly pull up on the pole. He was patient with me as I asked question after questions and babbled on about whatever was running through my head that day. It’s how I earned my nicknames Ratchet Jaw and Motor Mouth. I don’t think we caught a single fish that day, at least not one that made it all the way to the boat, but both of us were smiling nonetheless as we hauled the old metal boat from the water to its home on the shore.

There were many more fishing excursions in our future, some with just the two of us, but most included an uncle, boy cousin, and Dad as well. Once in a while, one or both of my sisters would tag along but neither of them really enjoyed fishing, it was mostly the chance to get out on the water and bask in the sun they were after. I remember entire days spent trolling along the lakeshore not catching a thing yet never being disappointed in our lack of fish. I also remember the days when the hook no sooner hit the water and you were reeling in a fish and then of course, there were those excursions to go sucker snagging behind the dam in Brevort, a slightly illegal endeavor but one that resulted in helping reduce the nuisance population of suckers in Brevort Lake for a few years. Probably the most exciting fishing memory I have was a deep sea trip off the coast of Coco Beach, Florida where I reeled in, with a little assist from Grandpa and Cousin Billy, a 15lb Dogfish Shark. However, in all the years I spent time fishing with my grandfather, it’s the memory of our first trip that sticks out in my head the most. Those are the memories that mean the most as we get older, and they are the ones we hang onto long after the passing of those we shared them with.

I suppose I should pack my pole and pick up a container of worms on my way north this weekend, it might just be time to drop a line in the water again spend an afternoon remembering the good times spent fishing with my grandfather over the years. Besides he always told me they bite better in the rain and the forecast is certainly looking like rain for the next few days.