| Teach a Man to Fish | |
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Part 2 - The Fishing Trip
by Tony "Stony3" Gustafson
In the evenings I prowled the placid lake with Dad in pursuit of walleye and perch. I watched him quietly as much as I did my bobber, storing the images for later use. I would need them to put pictures to the sounds back home. We did not catch many fish, but catch them we did, and like the muse of my noontime adventures, we regaled my brother at night with tales of furious battles, broken lines, and the ones that got away.
Our tales served as fuel for his ravenous need to do as we did. For a three year old, there is nothing more important than hanging with the big boys. The little guy’s excitement at the end of the week, upon finally being allowed in the boat, was tangible. It was frenetic and uncontainable, impossible to avoid, and as we bundled him into an oversized life preserver, we too reveled in his exultation.
The bite was good that evening…for Dad and me. Together we hauled in a respectable catch, filling our basket with a host of future meals. But my brother caught nothing. Patient at first, his excitement sank with the mocking sun. He could sense his approaching failure, of once again being too small for the ride, and his disappointment was as concrete as the hope it crushed.
“Get
him to look the other way,” Dad said under his breath.
I had no idea what he was planning, and simply stared at him with
curiosity and doubt. With the sun
nearly set, he was fading back to his ghost-like self.
Dad then threw an urgent gesture beyond the bow of the boat that snapped
me into compliance.
“Derek,”
I said, tugging on my brother’s clothes, “look at those trees by the
boulder.”
Next page > Derek Catches One > Page 1, 2, 3
