Northwest Trek

Its been a good long time since I was ten years old. Recently I was out fishing with my grandson who just completed his first decade. He caught back to back smallmouth. They both established a new personal best for him.

Watching his excitement and awe at hooking, fighting, and landing a couple of really feisty bass was like an instant play back for me. Remember how back when you were a kid you became so truly excited it encompassed your whole being from the tip of your toes to the top of your head? Well it has been a lot of fish ago since I have been that thrilled with hooking up with a worthy fish. Seeing Casey’s full body excitement was totally infectious for me because through him I felt that dimly remembered ten year old rush.

When I was a boy catch and release wasn’t even in the english vocabulary. Every one caught ended in the frying pan. That was a different era. Now, teaching this boy to return his trophies to the lake was like fast forwarding through a whole lot of learning and changing over nearly sixty years. Through the magic of digital photography Caseys’ trophies can live forever.

Kids truly are a gift from God.

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My spanking new Ford 150 and sixteen foot fishing boat were gone! My mind refused to believe what my eyes were seeing!

It was Friday March 1st. My youngest son had the day off from school and me from work. The dawn had held great promise for a day of fishing. I had just hooked the boat up to the truck and gone back into the house to pour the coffee into a thermos. Less than five minutes had elapsed but he truck and the boat were gone. I quickly ran in and called the local county sheriff and reported the theft. The ensuing chase and recovery was filmed and eventually was shown on the “Wildest police Chases”. But that is another story. The damage to the boat and truck was repaired at substantial cost to my insurance company. To this day I never leave the keys in a rig if I am going to be out of sight of it. This was a mentally traumatic event for me.

A month later as I was sleeping in on a Saturday morning the intruder alarm on the truck parked just outside the bedroom window began to urgently announce a forced entry. I lunged out of bed and charged out of the house, clothed only in my underwear, to find the pickup sitting where it belonged and no one in sight. My brain was still trying to catch up to my body having been in deep sleep only seconds before. I quickly began to sift through a sort of check list to analyze what had just occurred: pickup ok- check, no trespasser evident – check, I’m not dressed for this – check, uncontrollable laughter from the interior of the house – check, who is laughing – my wife – check, why is she laughing – April The First – check, April First is April Fools Day – comprehension!

I immediately saw that the only way to save my pride was to see it from her perspective; savor the humor that my wife had salvaged out an emotional wrenching incident. I’m still waiting to even the score with her, but I’ve not been successful in dreaming up a suitable prank to top what she did to me.

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