I suppose for alot of folks the word “Dad” conjures up many different feelings, every one unique. For me, it’s respect, admiration, of course, but deeper it’s thankfulness and - but much harder - love. See what I mean? Different than others I’m sure. Hard to let yourself feel love for your own Dad? That’s just the way it is…it’s there all right, solid as a rock, there’s just a certain awkwardness that’s always been there that makes it hard to break through, feel it and say it.

Such was the subroutine running through my brain this gorgeous weekday as my Dad, Drake, and I were fishing together. Sure we caught fish, but as you know it’s never just about the fishing. Family, friends, relationships, and life experiences all seem to get wrapped around, and wrapped up in fishing.

Dad decided to try to re-live some of his childhood memories, probably 60-70 years ago, by fishing with his favorite lure at that time, a 2″ orange flatfish. This is the lure he caught smallmouth, rock bass, and other fish in the same exact spot we fished that day. It was clear and sunny, about 3 in the afternoon, and the water was crystal clear. From living on the lake the last 15 years, and guiding it the last 5, I knew that choice was going to be tough.

I used a small 3″ plastic worm with ultralights and 2 lb test and caught several smallmouth, rock bass, a bluegill, and a perch. I was happy Drake got his excitement, his fish licks, and felt like he was part of the fishing trip which he is, always is. Dad persisted with the flatfish, and caught nothing. I wanted to say something…but couldn’t. He was here far before me, and this was really his lake, his time.

I wanted to say something because I understood that things were different when he was a kid. Heck it’s hugely different than when I was a kid. The lake was less busy, less weedy, and he doesn’t remember but those guys never fished in mid afternoon. They fished at dawn or at dusk. They fished a sunken island that was totally barren of weeds, just gravel, sand and rocks. He used to put sinkers on the line and run that flatfish right along the bottom where it bounced off the gravel and rocks and triggered those big smallies into smashing it. Now it is so choked with fertilizer fed weeds that a normal lure snags weeds half way down on almost every cast. It’s so sad. People want their lawns green so bad they will destroy an aquaculture. Then pontificate as to what everybody else needs to be doing for the environment. It’s one of the reasons I’m leaving the chain. It’s so much different than when even I was a kid, it’s got to be a heart breaker for Dad. I can’t wait to buy a house on a contained, low populated, wake free lake. I hope I can get there in time to take him out on a real lake.

Maybe Dad knew this too, but wanted to believe it was otherwise. I wanted to say something because I had spent so much time figuring out the lake the last ten years. I knew if I could just switch him over to a small plastic worm he’d catch fish. For crying out loud, I’m the only guide on the entire chain of lakes. If I could just find some way to make it easy for him to change over, he’d catch fish. But I knew what he was doing. But for some reason, the right reason, I kept my mouth shut.

We talked about alot of things. Most of it “surfacy”. You know what I mean. How’s the family, kids, dogs, etc. Never brought up anything significant, though I wanted to, in fact needed to. I wanted his wisdom on a life changing event I recently went through. When you’re not on the right “level” with someone, though, it’s difficult to bring up serious things you want to talk over.

So we fished until he got tired. He said he was disappointed. I felt bad, though said I understood. At the dock I held my arm out as a “railing” for him to use as he climbed out of the boat. I told him I did that with all the clients I took fishing, and it was just a habit. My mind flashed back to the man he used to be. I couldn’t help it. A B17 pilot, olympic swimmer, world known orthopedic surgeon. In his prime he could have picked me up like a boomtruck and placed me feet first on the dock. Funny, I remember when he actually did that when I was a kid.

I’m 50 and he’s 84. He’s alot slower, less steady, and that’s the way it is. I sometimes hurt because though I keep trying, I still can’t break through that “thing” and get on a level where we just talk about anything and everything, you know, talk in a real way about the things you really want to say and hear, not just the latest news. I guess we all just keep fishing for the big ones in life, even if they do stay just out of reach or just keep getting away.

I’m going to get back out on the boat and go “fishing” with Dad very, very soon.

Finally. Now I can get back to a more reasonable life. Working on the house getting it ready to sell certainly has taken its toll, but it is essentially ready to sell, and I’m ready to move. Time will tell if it was worth it. Though you’d not expect it, alot was sacrificed, maybe you can relate.

With no time to cook, too much fast food. You gain weight and feel sluggish. Tired all the time. Circles under the eyes, and needed a haircut. Bills were late. Not enough attention for relatives, relationships, friends, and Drake. Some understand, some didn’t, but there is still nothing I could have done. Sometimes life presents you with situations you wouldn’t wish on yourself, but there you are. Maybe someday I’ll look back on this and wish I hadn’t done it, but if you live your life that way you’ll never do anything, take no risk, get no reward.

Anyway, I’m fishing again with good friends and it’s good for the soul. Like a long distance runner that gets to stop, catch their breath, and take a long cool drink, standing in a river casting a flyrod with no particular place to go is just like that.

Even fishing with clients, though work, is a break. Last Wednesday I had a retired doctor as out in kayaks fishing on the river. He was a fine gentleman in his 70’s, and wanted to find out what this kayak fishing was all about. I admired that, and hoped I had his desire for adventure when I reached that age. He reminded me of my Dad, he even swam for the U of M in college like my Dad did. A little on the feeble side, it was my honor to help him in and out of the kayak at times, and I was thankful he accepted my offers with grace and dignity instead of pride and stubborness. I knew that had to be hard, and I respected him for that.

We caught fish, sure we did. 10, 15, maybe 20, and a combination of rock bass and smallmouth bass. Ultralight spinning, circle hooks, and small soft plastics were in order, and were very effective. He admired the Stinger, which I took as a real compliment.

All in all, it was a good day. I loaded up the kayaks, thankful for the cool air that had accompanied sunset.

It’s great to be back on the water. It’s great to have some free time again. Time to think about putting things back together that can be put back together, re-establish some friendships, make new friends, and move on from the regret of broken things caused by the fallout of a hectic time in life. You know, at the end of the day, most of us do the best we can.