After a Lifetime of Fishing I Figured Out the True Meaning

One of my earliest memories was from 1968 when I was a small boy living on the shore of Long Island, NY. Although I don't remember any specifics I have been told it was the site of my first foray into fishing. My father tells me one of the first fish I ever caught was a Flounder. Funny little thing with two eyes on one side of its head. I guess it swims on one side. Anyway, throughout the following years while living in the Chicago area I really started to cut my teeth on this fishing thing.

My grandfather bought a farm in Thebes, Illinois. The year was 1964, the year of my birth. One of the first things he and my father did was to excavate a piece of land and put in a farm pond. I don't know if they ever stocked it, but after some years it did in fact hold fish. I guess the first time we really started fishing it was in the early 1970's. Since the farm was 400 miles south, we only made our pilgrimage there twice a year. We would head down on Easter as well as Thanksgiving. One of my grandfathers neighbors had two farm ponds on his land, so we had a few different locations each year to fish. Of those two ponds, one was rather small, the other was decent sized. I recall fishing with my Mepps spinners while my grandfather would sit under a shaded tree and fish with a bobber and crickets. In the earlier years my great-grandmother would join us with her cane pole and worms. She usually out-fished all of us, even in her late 80's.

In the smaller pond I recall my grandfather pulling in a nine pound catfish. It was one of my earliest memories of a large fish. We took it home and made steaks out of it. We would usually bring home our catch and I would watch my father clean them on the gravel driveway of the farm. Having a barn, they usually had 10-15 barn cats at a time living there. The cats would come out and drag away the heads of the fish my father was cleaning. Nothing goes to waste in rural america. My grandmother would fry up our catch of bass, bluegill, and catfish and we would feast.

As I grew into my teenage years our trips would consist of fishing and hunting. Having one hundred acres of land lent itself to many long walks in the woods looking for birds, rabbits, and squirrels. We even went out with my grandfathers neighbors one night and hunted raccoons. There weren't many 9-5 jobs in that area, you had to earn your keep and raccoon pelts helped pave the way.

Well, the years rolled on and eventually my grandparents got older and were no longer able to handle the rigors of the farm and they moved on. My entire childhood until the age of eighteen I was able to spend time with my family and realize the true joys of living the simpler life. In this day and age, those times were not only simple but truly rewarding. I actually took my wife back to the farm twenty years later as we were traveling nearby. The folks who owned the farmhouse weren't home, so I really only got a glimpse of the place. I would like to try to go back again someday.

This brings us to today. My son is about to turn five and he already has the fishing bug. I can't imagine why, I waited until he was two years old to buy him his first snoopy pole. He has now graduated to a better set up and can actually cast out his lure halfway into the lake himself. Just the other day he caught his first bass. Anyone who is reading this that has done the same knows the feeling. Those who haven't I hope someday you do.

I have included pictures of the last bass we each caught. As you can see, the kid already catches larger fish. I hope that will continue for a very long time.