Never been one for fishing; probably gone fishing 6 or seven times in my life time. Once when I was 10 or twelve, my grand dad from Indiana took me fishing on the Oswegatchie; don't think either one of us had much fun that day. Did catch a rock bass or two, that's all.
Another time my friend Donny and I went fishin' down behind the lumber yard and I caught a salamander. Didn't have much fun that day either.
Took each of my kids fishing once or twice just to introduce them to it. And went fishing with my brother-in-law once too. Still, it was more perfunctory than enjoyable. Oh, and just so you know, my grandfather and my brother-in-law are inveterate fishermen. My middle son likes to fish and he's been real good at teaching his daughters how to have fun baiting hooks and catching bass off the dock in the good ol' summertime.
There is one fish tale in my past that gets told quite often when sittin' 'round just jawin' and chewin' the fat. Twenty-five years ago or so, on one of our trips down to Myrtle beach, my good friend Jimmy and I decided to take one of those deep sea fishing charters, and my son rel II decided to come along too since he loved to fish. We got up early and stopped at a local McD's for sausage and egg biscuits for breakfast.
We left port on what I'd say was a pretty good size fishing boat around 7 or 8 am. There were easily 30 or more guests aboard. The sea was relatively calm with those easy rolling waves 4 foot high or so. After our first stop proved fruitless, the captain decided to move to what he thought might produce a better result. As the boat slowly rocked over the waves I could feel the rumblings of seasickness begin in the pit of my stomach. Then that tell tale sign; the bicarb tasting salivation filled my mouth. But I was determined that this old sailor was not going to embarrass himself by heaving his guts over board. And after a few minutes the feeling of impending upchuckedness subsided. Jimmy says, "you OK?" "Yup ", says I, "it's just a simple matter of mind over matter. "
'Bout that time, number one son decides to go below and lay down, bein' that he's beginning to feel a little peaked hisself.
After a bit, the second spot also producing no response to the chum used for bait, we start chugging along to another spot that the crew says is sure to produce some results. A dozen or so of us are leaning on the rail of the port side feeling the breeze from the bow when of a sudden, without warning, the contents of my stomach surfaced and projected out of my mouth with incredible force, was picked up by the wind and impelled into the ear of my aft side neighbor which was inducement enough to cause her to commence barfing over the side.
I, embarrassed to high heaven, thought my friend Jim was going to die of apoplexy while rolling on the deck laughing so hard I wondered how he could catch his breath.
Needless to say, the rest of the cruise was anti-climactic; we caught no fish.
I no longer eat sausage biscuits from McD's or anywhere else for that matter.
I've never gone deep sea fishing again.
Jimmy, God rest his soul, I think is still laughing up in his heaven.
And more over, I once again apologize profusely to the lady whose ear served as a catcher's mitt for my partially digested breakfast.
-for more and more creative Magpie Tales, troll over here and drop a line in the old fishin' hole and listen to the magpies.