I’ve never been a particular fan of fishing. There’s something incredibly swampy and boring to me about sitting in a yucky, rickety fishing boat, crammed in with a small cooler, someone else, creepy crawlers, and lots and lots of mosquitoes.
My father, father-in-law, husband, brother-in-law, brother, and nephew all love fishing. I want to say that I feel like it’s a guy-thing, but that wouldn’t be fair to the ladies out there that enjoy the sport. I guess there can be a tranquility to it, along with the fact that there’s a raw pleasure in providing one’s own food. I’m just not that girl.
For his birthday this year, my nephew received a gorgeous fishing pole. The look on his face was incredible – I wish I had taken a picture. His eyes and mouth were just about as wide as they could go. There is something to be said about slow, deliberate activities like fishing. They give people an opportunity to go to a place where technology probably doesn’t work. There, they can sit and bask in the sun and talk quietly (don’t scare the fish!) with whomever they’ve gone out with. I’ve got to give credit to anything that dials down our incessant networking and makes a ten-year-old boy happy and excited to go outside.
So for me? I won’t go out with my father-and-law and nephew with his shiny new fishing pole, though I’ll encourage my husband to do so. And, furthermore, I’ll look forward to the fish stories they’ll bring back.
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