Sunday, December 21, 2014

A fishing tale, whereby my sons are kicking a pro-fisherman's ass

The other day, Steve was gone for two days, so I took the kids fishing. Mind you, I know nothing about fishing (they do). I just stand on the side lines, watch Eva so she won't fall in the fast moving river, and cheer like a lunatic when the boys land a fish. A fancy car was parked at our favorite fishing spot, and after walking to the fishing hole, we saw a professional-fishing type dude doing fancy fly-fishing moves where Luke and Kai usually fish. The guy was decked out in fancy fishing gear, with waders and Gortex, while my boys wore their usual hand knit wool hats, jeans with holes, and dirty jackets. The man seemed slightly annoyed by our arrival and didn't acknowledge it. Ten-year old Lukas promptly fell into the water as he crossed a slippery log over a small slough to get to the actual river. I watched Gortex man contemptuously glance at my son dump water out of his boots.
Unperturbed, Lukas continued onward in his wet jeans, digging in his rusty, decades old tackle box for the right hook. Five minutes later, Luke pulled in a Dolly Varden, to excited shrieks from me on the other shore. Gortex man, who had probably been unsuccessfully fishing there for hours, spared another annoyed glance at my son, who deftly killed the fish with a whack on the head.
Gortex man decided that the spot he was fishing at (50 yards away from Luke) wasn't so great after all and walked over to Luke, never even saying Hello to him. He did some more fancy fishing moves downstream from the boys, and five minutes later, my son landed another fish. More annoying (bordering on incredulous) looks from Gortex man, more whooping and hollering from me.
The whole thing from start to finish had taken 20 minutes, and we soon walked away with two beautiful fish for dinner.
Gortex man never said Goodbye.

What's so cool about this story is not that my ten and almost twelve year old sons kicked a pro fisherman's ass, but that Lukas then proceeded to gut the fish all by himself at home, me standing by cluelessly, taking pictures and asking him questions about what he was doing.  He wielded his sharp knife expertly, cutting out guts and all other kind of slimy innards without flinching.  The dog and cat, attracted by the delicious fish smell, supervised.

Other news from the homestead: It's getting mighty Christmassy around here. I love the Christmas tree lights casting their warm glow in the gloomy, wet December weather.  I adore the cozy fires in the wood stove.  I am knitting my bootie off for my gift giving.  And there is, of course, the baking. Pinwheel cookies. Vanilla wafers. Lebkuchen. The smell of grated orange zest, cinnamon, melted butter and vanilla. Sticky little hands forming interesting cookie shapes.  Happy little faces sampling raw cookie dough.  And a mother feeling blessed beyond words by her good fortune.


  1. Did you say hello to this gentleman or did you already assume he was a idiot from the start because of the clothes he was wearing? Stop and think maybe he didn't want to bother you and your children out of respect for you being alone, or maybe God forbid he had a scowl on his face because he doesn't have 3 healthy children to take fishing, maybe God forbid he has lost a child. Don't be so quick to judge what does this teach your children?

  2. Dear Anonymous: I don't know if you know this about me, but I'm a pretty judgmental German bitch. You are right: I was judging this Gortex man. Are you him, by any chance? Ooops, if so.
    Maybe he had a scowl on his face because we were all loud. Maybe his kids are sick. Maybe he lost a child. Maybe he has cancer. Maybe his wife has cancer. Who the hell knows? Maybe he is an idiot. Who knows? I wrote this blog entry as a parody, and I'm sorry if I offended you. The point to this blog entry was not to judge Gortex man, but to revel in my amusement in the situation, and in my son's pride.


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