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Fishing With Grandpa
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Fishing With Grandpa
This is a story about a little boy's first fishing trip with his Grandpa. What an adventure they had!
[1,158 words]
Cari Graham
After much bugging by friends, family and co-workers I finally caved and took the big step to submit some of my work. I write little short stories that reflect life during good times and bad. Hopefully you will enjoy!
[February 2012]
[email protected]
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Fishing With Grandpa
Cari Graham

The time I spent at my parent�s cabin at the lake while growing up are some of the happiest memories I have. Tradition has it, these memories need to be shared with your children as they grow. This was the logic I used as we headed out to the same cabin years later, for my son to go on his first fishing adventure with his Grandpa. I just knew he would have the same fun and excitement I had as a child. I could envision him splashing in the cold lake water, running on the hot sand and dropping his ice cream in the very same sand. These are all the things that make a trip to the lake memorable.

As we pulled up in front of the cabin, late as usual, Grandpa was waiting with his fishing rod in his hand. I could see the impatient look on his face melt as Tony embarked from the car carrying his own rod. I could see it return as Tony got closer to him and he knew the first hour of their fishing time would be spent untangling fishing line. Ah, the joys of fishing with a five year old! I watched it disappear again as Tony put his hand in his Grandpa�s and squeeze.

Tony�s face lit up at the site of his Grandpa. In my son�s eyes, the sun rose and set in this man. The bond between the two was growing stronger as each year passed. I knew there would be very little fishing and a lot of story telling that day. Tony soaked up every word like a sponge and Grandpa took that as a sign to keep the sponge soaking so to speak.

I remember Tony asking one of his cousins why he was wasting time going to school, when all he had to do was sit on Grandpa�s knee to learn all there was to learn.
�Grandpa knows everything� he declared, believing with all his heart.

The two of them headed off to a place where only Grandpas and Grandsons dare tread. Together they marched forward with a rod in each hand, a net for the fish and a stead stream of conversation pouring forth from both at the same time. I always found it amazing that someone could hear so much with their mouth open so wide, but Tony never missed a word. I needed coffee and lots of it if I was going to be able to listen with full attention to the instant rewind of the entire conversation on the way home. So I headed into the cabin to join my mom while the mighty fishermen went in search of our lunch.

My mother and I took our coffee out on the front deck and positioned ourselves with a perfect view of the dock, where the two of them stood hand in hand as Grandpa was pointing out something in the distance.

I knew which hook would be chosen to take the first plunge into the murky depths. When I stood in the same spot many years ago, to cast my first line into the water, I had a very large wooden plug of many colors attached to the end of my line. I was told it was the best hook to use. You could see it floating on the water and actually watch a fish catch it.

We watched as my dad took that very same hook and placed it carefully on my son�s line. The time for the first cast had arrived. My eyes welled up in pride and my throat constricted as I tried to hold back the tears. My mom was sitting there watching me go through the same emotional struggle she had been through with all four of her little fishermen.

A few practice tries and they were off. The plug sailed through the air, a whopping ten feet from the dock. Not bad for a little man of five. We could hear the excitement in his young voice as it carried on the breeze to our ears. I knew he would want to do it again to go further but I also knew Grandpa wouldn�t let him. He would be told to let it float there a while to let the fish know a treat was waiting for them. Their heads were bent in serious conversation as my son probably was expressing his difference of opinion.

Suddenly out of no where a large bird swooped in and took the plug! My son hung on with all his strength. There would be no waiting for a fish today. We stood up in astonishment as we realized that my son�s first big catch was not a fish but a very large black Cormorant bird half his size. The bird was flying around in circles above their heads with more line going out with each pass.

Grandpa pointed to the beach and yelled �RUN�. Tony ran to the beach still clinging to the fishing rod. Grandpa on his heals waving his arms. Tony was shrieking with excitement.

�Can we eat it Grandpa? Can we eat it?� The words tumbled out of his little mouth.

Mom and I looked at each other hoping Grandpa would figure a way out of this one. Tradition did say the first catch would be lunch.

�I don�t have a recipe for Cormorant� mom said barely keeping a straight face. I closed my eyes and shook my head.

Grandpa grabbed the fishing rod along with Tony and started reeling in the catch of the day. The bird fought harder and harder the closer it got to them. Grandpa was not about to lose his best wooden plug to a bird. Tony was spinning in circles to keep up with the bird as Grandpa made valiant attempts to reach it with the fish net. At last the bird was in the net and pinned to the ground. As we watched, it became clear to us, that was the easy part. Getting the hook out would be an adventure in itself.

Wings flapping, screeching from bird and boy, feathers flying, grumbles and other things from Grandpa, all resulted in the bird flying away and Grandpa falling into a heap in the sand with his treasured hook in his hand. Tony flew into Grandpa�s arms.

�It�s okay Grandpa. I brought a peanut butter and jelly sandwich just incase. I will share it with you.� He said excitedly as started running to the cabin with arms flapping. Grandpa slowly got to his feet and followed, shaking his head with disbelief.

�Did you see? Did you see?� as he flew up on the deck. In minutes we were all hugging and a twitter with the excitement of the catch.

Later as we drove home, I looked at my son asleep in his seat clutching the multicolored wooden plug. While this was not to be the last fishing adventure the two had, it certainly would be the one to remember.



"it was alright" -- tanjeena, london, englnd.


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© 2005 Cari Graham
December 2005

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