“Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after.” —Henry David Thoreau
God, I love fishing. I dig fishing almost as much as hunting (almost). I love it so much that I moved to a place that is one of the top angling spots in the world: Miami, Florida. And you know what? I milk these waters as much as a working man can.
My fishing roots extend back to Texas and my rowdy childhood when my dad used to take me and my brother fishing on the many lakes, ponds and rivers the Lone Star state has to offer.
Our stringer was typical of a freshwater 60s and 70s Texas catch: perch, crappie, black bass, white bass, channel cats, carp and gar. It was way cool for this little redneck. Yes indeed, Bob-Dawg, I dug it all.
For example, as a young punk I took insane pleasure in:
- Buying fishing gear. Very cool. - Practicing my casting accuracy in my backyard (which still serves me well to this day) - Reading Outdoor Life and getting pumped on its fishing lies … I mean … stories - Experiencing the inability to sleep the night before getting up and declaring war on the fish - Buying bait at freaky bait shops run by guys I swear worked as extras on the movie Deliverance - Arriving at our strategic and wild location and having the privilege of watching and listening to that which is untamed waking up and beginning its tooth, fang and claw survival of the fittest exchange with Mother Nature. Life and death in its purest form, Nancy boys. - Taking a crash course from my dad and other gents regarding different lures and the various ways to present them - And then, of course, the entre, actually catching a fish and grappling with my gigantic aquatic monster which was, in all reality, a pound-and-a-half bass. (I didn’t care, though, because as far as I was concerned, I was Ernest-Frickin’-Hemingway’s character Santiago, and that little bass was my Marlin.) - And lastly, basking in the great satisfaction later that evening of watching adults eat what this rugrat provided. I am iron man. Dun, dun. Dun na dun dunna dunna dunna dun dunna dun. As a young squab, the whole fishing enchilada, from soup to nuts, represented what Bryan Adams called, “The best days of my life.”
With the busyness of college, getting married, raising little girls, making money, and kicking ass, I got out of the fishing groove until I moved mi familia to Miami where I became a fishing kid again and quickly returned to my angling roots.
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