A Look Back: The Reason I Don't Fish

It was 20 years ago; I was all of 11.

I'd been fishing a few times up to age 11. The old man had taught my brother and me how to search for the nightcrawlers; then we'd venture to Black Rock Lake at the crack of dumb in the morning and fish. I caught loads of Sunnies. But not much else. I enjoyed the time spent with the old man and the silence offered by the calm lake, but waiting for fish to ensnare themselves on my hook was tedious. Still, I wasn't opposed to fishing; I was indifferent.

Soon after my parents divorced, my mother met her first boyfriend. A guy by the name of Mike. Nice enough. Liked beer. One of those guys who's somewhat awkward around kids, but who wants to impress them with his skills. It didn't help that I was awkward around everyone at that point, including him.

Mike announced to my mother one day that we should go fishing. All of us. My mother whom I've never seen - before or since - lift a fishing pole, my brother, Mike, and I. And we weren't going to go at the crack of dumb like my father had taught but during the middle of the day when there were no fish whatsoever. Although I didn't want to go, I appeased my mother and packed myself into his car. Off we went.

I don't particularly remember where we went. But I know we were alone. Standing on a large rock - a boulder, if you will - overlooking the body of water. All of us cast. And I remember catching nothing. All the fish had buried themselves deep beneath the sun's rays.

Then it happened. Mike pulled from the placid lake a good-sized fish. I stepped onto the rock to take a look at our only catch of the day. I looked down to get my footing and then back up. What did I see staring me in the face but a whiskered fish face wriggling. It gave me such a start that I lost my footing and plummeted a whole three feet into the water. Mike, my mother, and my brother froze, wondering if I was hurt. But when I stood - it was very shallow - I heard the first sputter burst from my brother's mouth. Followed by the flowing laughter of Mike and my mother.

Alas, I wasn't a particularly good sport back then. I stalked off to be alone, feeling utter humiliated, not to mention soaking wet. Fishing for me had been stymied.

I won't say I haven't been fishing since - although I can't imagine I've fished more than a couple times since then - but I lost any inkling I might have had.