This is a fun blog written by my husband which would normally be posted to his blog, but since his internet manager (yes, that's me) is having technical difficulties, I'm posting it here. This is another article for your LDS neighborhood which I highly recommend you visit. Click here to get their free newsletter.
Written by Steve Christensen www.stevesportsbreak.blogspot.com
Fishing is a sport that many men and women enjoy. Not many things in life are as exciting as feeling a big fish on your fishing pole and reeling it in with it fighting the whole way. Who doesn’t enjoy being outdoors enjoying the quiet lakes and forests that surround them? I have many fond memories of fishing with my dad and my family.
My dad is a serious fisherman. He loved to go every year to the Payson Lakes up Payson Canyon, Schofield reservoir, up Spanish Fork Canyon, and many other lakes and places to fish. He always had a pole for each of us kids. There were 5 kids in my family and my dad has us holding a pole by the time we were each 5 years old. His tackle box was full of hooks, flies, jigs, fishing line, sinkers, bobbers, bubbles, pliers, rags, fish eggs, power bait, and always an old reader’s digest. My dad would pile us all in our old car every week during the summer and take us to the lake. Then he would have to listen to us fight with each other, ask “are we there yet”, and the crying and yelling that comes with typical family excursions; and this is before we even got out of the driveway. When we opened the trunk to get the poles they would be so intertwined and in knots with each other that it would take my dad 20 minutes just to get them undone.
Growing up my dad seemed like he had no patience, but if you have ever taken 1 or more young children fishing more than once, then you must have the patience of Job. If you thought getting there was difficult and trying your patience, wait until you actually start fishing on the lake. Just walking down to the lake was an experience; us kids were tripping on rocks, falling and getting scraped up, fading off the path, falling in the lake,
still fighting with each other, having our poles getting knotted up again, etc…
My dad was still bound and determined to go fishing despite the “circus” that was going on behind him.
Finally, we would arrive at the lake (a few of the kids might be missing along the way), but we would all make it eventually. My dad would toss his fishing line first and then work on getting ours ready to throw out. As a child I always wondered why he did this. It might have been because it took him 45 minutes to help the kids put the worms on their hooks, help them cast out 50 times to get out more than 5 feet from shore, catch them from falling in the lake, etc…
When we were all situated and having a good time, my dad thought he had a bite. Something was pretty heavy on the end of the line. He was reeling in hard and the kids were all excited. When he pulled the end of the line to shore, there was a really big piece of wood, and moss. My dad still laughs about those experiences as he realized long ago that the fun part of these trips was being with the family and kids.
Of course now my mom and dad go fishing by themselves and a lot has changed; no more kids fighting, yelling, only 2 poles to untangle, they can get their fishing poles in quickly.
Only one thing hasn’t changed, my dad still catches pieces of wood and moss.
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