When my brother Andy and I were little, we thought it our right, as kids, to have our dad take us fishing. Never mind the fact that our dad isn't a hunter-fisher kind of guy. (Our parents were more the VW bus type outdoor recreationists.) Finally, the opportunity arose, and, as part of our first backpacking trip, my dad agreed to take us fishing (due in large part to my little brother's amazing ability to annoy people into saying yes to anything). My dad was methodical in his approach to this, our first experience fishing.
First of all, he was very careful not to buy any new equipment. My dad uncovered one old fishing rod in my grandma's basement and borrowed everything else. I should have seen my dad's refusal to invest in any fishing gear as a sign that "fishing with dad" was not going to become a regular feature of our childhood. But I simply attributed it to my parents' tightwad tendencies. (These were the parents who, for our first skiing trip, opted for cross country--no lift tickets--and made my brother and I SHARE ONE PAIR OF SKIS because, well, renting one pair is cheaper than two.)
My dad was also thoughtful enough to let me pick out the bait myself. When we stopped at the general store, I considered my options in the bait aisle carefully, and I settled on a package of appetizing yellow marshmallows. Really. They looked exactly like mini-marshmallows with some sort of yellow coating (like Peeps). I remember them perfectly, I think in part because I spent the weekend trying not to eat one. (I didn't.) I was excited about these yellow marshmallows. I could imagine the fish looking up and seeing, not a slimy worm or some yucky bug, but a delightful little confection. Boy, were we going to catch a lot of fish! (My dad hadn't batted an eye when I brought them up to the cash register.)
Lastly, my dad took a very laid-back approach to when we fished. No need to get out to the lake at the crack of dawn, or return at dusk. We were free to fish under the high afternoon sun, which we did.
We didn't catch anything. Not even a nibble. So our first experience fishing was hugely disappointing, and we were left with little desire to try again. (But the backpacking part was fun! And not the last time.)
Years later, when I was a know-it-all teenager in high school and had picked up a few fishing tips from my hunter-fisher type boyfriends, I looked back on that first fishing experience and thought, "Of course we didn't catch anything! My dad is an idiot!"
When, a few weeks ago, Greg and I were watching David throw sticks in a creek, and Greg (who is not a hunter-fisher kind of guy) suddenly looked stricken, and turned to me and asked, "Alisa, what happens when one day David expects me to take him fishing?!" I responded, "That's easy. Just do what my dad did."
Now that I'm a parent, I look back on the fishing trip with my dad and think, "Of course we didn't catch anything! My dad is a genius!"
