Cameron – Daddy, I’m the fisher king!
Me – What makes you the fisher king?
Cameron – I caught 12 fish and a foot long fish!
Me – That makes you an ichthyologist (look it up)
Cameron – Yeah, I’m that and a fisher king!
Let the good time roll…
How many years does it take for something to become a “rite of passage”? When does something that has little meaning at the time, have such a huge impact later in life? For the past few days these are the questions that I have been asking myself. Am I teaching my children the things that my father taught me, and the things his father taught him? Do I accurately and correctly re-tell a story that was told to me by my grandfathers? Am I teaching them the proper way, the way I was taught to tie a hook to a fishing line? What was the secret I was taught on how to properly put a worm on a hook? Do I tell my children talking doesn’t scare fish away? Or, do I tell them talking does scare fish away? Will they be able to digest the sights and sounds of their surroundings? Will they breath in the fresh air and value how their time is being spent? Will they place their hand in the cool water and bask in the day’s sunlight? Will they listen to the sloshing of water under the metal boat and stare in the sky and wonder where the birds are headed? I know only time will tell, but I have a feeling all will be perfect in the end. My children are blessed by two guiding lights, which will be there for them when the path gets dim, and the light of day dissipates into night.
I can remember fishing in the ponds of Oklahoma with my Grandpa and Great-Grandpa. I can remember fishing in the ponds of Missouri with my Dad and Grandpa. I can remember fishing in the lakes of Wisconsin with my Brothers. Fishing brings us together and will be a part of our family for generations to come. Recently, my Dad took Cameron to Missouri to go fishing with my Grandpa (Cameron’s Great-Grandpa). There is no better time to spend fishing, than fishing with Grandpa’s. Every night we would get an excited phone call from Cameron telling us about his afternoon of catching fish. During one conversation Cameron blurted out, “Daddy, I’m the Fisher King!” I can only imagine which grandpa fed him that line? I was happy he thought he was the Fisher King, but jealous at the same time and asked, ”What makes you the Fisher King?” I was picturing him struggling to reel in a small perch and be so excited that he caught one fish. I wasn’t prepared for the response of, “Because, I caught 12 fish and a foot long fish”. One thing you have to understand about my family, we are HIGHLY competitive. I don’t care if you’re 4 years or 99 years old, if you tell me you caught 12 fish and have evidence of your catch; I’m going to be pissed! I was proud of my son, but felt it necessary to bring him back down from cloud 9 and told him, “That makes you an ichthyologist.” For a few seconds there was silence and thought I was getting the last laugh on my 4-year old son when he replied, “Yeah, that and a FISHER KING!” To do this day, I have never caught 12 fish in one day, and as usual, Cameron gets the last laugh.
This post is dedicated to both of my Grandfathers, two men I have always looked up to and admire.