For the men in my family, fishing is not a sport. It's an integral part of life, like, say... eating... breathing... or cell meiosis. My dad and brothers know every lure, stinky bait, fishing line weight, water depth, water and air temperature, water and air visibility, every wind direction, humidity percentage, season, mating behavior, and gravitational pull of the moon, which might, in some way, affect whether the fish will bite. And the relevance of all these factors, of course, depends on the species of fish. They know them all, including their subtypes and which ones are "good eatin'" or not.Long story short: Ace was born at 2:04 a.m.. By 10 that morning, "Grampy Doug" (my dad) was in the hospital room, bearing the perfunctory diapers and cute baby shoes, and a brand new kid-sized fishing pole and tackle box, which Ace used to catch his first fish on Saturday. This is big stuff. It was only a tiny little bluegill (the bass were spawning and the trout were in deep water due to the heat), but it was a real live fishie caught at Loch Leven lake in the presence of Grampy Doug, Uncle Josh, Dad and Mom. A most momentous occasion. Watch the video, and feel the power.
Syb
2 comments:
Our little boy is now a man.. well at least in Jenni-Harrison terms!
Aaron and Sammy say, "Wow, when we last saw Ace, he was just a tiny kid. Now you look so much older." Aaron says, "Is that a blue gill? My first fish was a blue gill." (Commented on the correct post now!)
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