Just now, when there’s the faintest hint of fall in the air, when the shadows grow taller and the day seems a bit shorter, fishermen have a hankering to head for the waters. Be it instinct, impulse or itch, the inclination is intense.
But for him, just eight years old it means his first “real” fishing’ trip. Oh, he’s fished from a nearby creek bank or from the pond on a friend’s farm. But this time, the men - Dad, Granddad and he - are going out in a boat for the whole day!
The savory anticipation, the three-day planning for the trip, peaks until he feels today will never come. The exclusion of big sister and baby brother from this all-man outing seasons his glad feelings; it is his “first time” and he’s the first to be included. It’s a happy day.
Five o’clock in the morning comes mighty early but he’s up with the first gentle shake of the shoulder. He quickly slips into his clothes, jeans, football jersey, tennis shoes and baseball cap, all of which he laid out neatly the night before. Bright-eyed, eager to help, he’s all ready to do anything Dad says. Together they eat cold cereal; together they load the car; together they leave.
Manly, he tries hard to converse on the drive to the coast; but the early morning hour and the soothing motion of the car work together to lull him to sleep.
At Granddad’s, he’s alert once again - eager to launch the boat and the day on their way.
The day was even bigger than his imagination. They shrimped for bait; they fished the oyster beds at Wolf Island. The porpoises played close by. He caught 25 or 30 small fish, all of which he threw back, but he caught them.
He caught a stingray which his dad threw back. The wake from another boat sprayed water in his face.
For lunch, they picnicked in the boat. The motor broke down and he endured a four-hour return trip home. And, no, not once, did he whine or complain or fret.
He came home with bright eyes, one fish to fry, lots to tell, a story about “the big one that got away” and a sunburned nose.
“…and,” he murmurs through a yawn, “I’m so tired…”
“Good night, child, and pleasant dreams. Today you were a man in a man’s world, but right now, my tired, sleepy son, you are just a boy who’s…gone fishin’!”
1972
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