We went fishing recently — at a pay lake.
We paid and pulled around to an open spot with few weeds. Then it started raining. But if you pay to fish, you’re casting that line — rain or shine.
Within ten minutes, I had caught three perch. Apparently, they like to eat in the rain.
Then three hours later, I still had three fish. They must’ve changed their little minds. I noticed they stopped biting when Son #1 exited the vehicle. I’m thankful he never pelted me in the skull with any rocks. But he does have a good arm for such a young guy.
I decided there wasn’t a fish fifty feet from us in any direction.
When I was catching them, I noticed they didn’t splash much when I put them in the bucket, which was a good thing.
See, I had brought the family along, and we rode in our SUV.
After rock six-hundred and eighty-seven, I thought it was time to go home. As we drove down the lane beside the lake, I looked over and saw a fish completely leave the water. He had a vertical jump that was comparable to Michael Jordan.
So we stopped, and I got the fishing rod back out and cast once or twice and I caught a fish.
The bucket was still in the car. There were perch in it. It was right below Son #2’s feet. He is in a car seat, so there was plenty of room. The perch had calmed down and acquiesced to the confinement of the bucket.
I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing. I took the largemouth bass to the car and put it in the bucket.
Bass are larger than perch. Bass splash much more than perch do. This bass kept splashing.
In .000001 seconds, Son #2 and the back of the passenger seat was covered in water. I regained my senses and grabbed the bucket.
After moving the bucket to a remote location away from the car, I caught four good-sized largemouth bass within a few minutes. Then Son #1 got out of the vehicle.
Rocks commenced flying. And the fish ceased biting.
“Son! Stop throwing rocks!”
“Okay.”
More rock throwing.
“Son #1! Get in the car!”
“I’m sorry, Dad!”
“Nope, I’ve had it. Get in the car.”
“Please forgive me, Dad. You know you’re supposed to forgive seventy-nine times.” That little… He used the Bible against me.
“No, it’s seventy times seven.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s seventy-nine times.”
Three-year-olds. Lord, help me.
“Okay, fine, I forgive you! Now get in the car.”
I decided to cast one last time. I had been using a yellow spinner bait. The bass loved it. I reared back and cast as hard as I could.
I noticed that the spinner bait went twice as far as it had been.
I looked at the end of my line — dangling in front of me.
I looked out to where the ripples expanded outward from where the spinner bait had landed.
There were hoards of fish swarming that spot. You could see them on the surface.
I was so mad I could’ve spit.
The spinner bait was my mom’s. She’s had it since the 90s.
I guess I know what I’m getting her for her birthday.
to anyone who has those days,
– Caleb
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