Fishing

Fishing...it's in my blood...Maybe some kinda ancestrial link of some sorts, whatever...It's there.

As a young tyke, digging up worms in the backyard, in Williams Bay, after a rainy night, exctitedly coming across a big juicy nightcrawler...I was convinced that ugly, bloated, veiny worm, was gonna land me a jumbo whopper, of a fish...

I can remember 1970, very clearly, going out to the end of our new pier, in Williams Bay, and hauling in a few sunfish, perch...blue gill...etc...Nothing spectacular, but enough to keep the fires alive, for the next time around...I was only 7 years old...but the whole hobby of fishing was a great deal of fun...and spending endless time, with lost lures & tangled lines, never phased me.

It seemed as I grew older, my strategy would change, going out on our Granny Franny boat, to hidden places around the lake...where vast amounts of fish were considered, there, for the taking...And as I hit my teenage years, my passion for fishing was at a peak...

Sometimes, we'd get caught up, in the tranquil peacefulness of fishing and not see a rapidly appraching storm, bearing down, out on Lake Geneva, ready to unload, a giant shower of rain & thunder & lightining. Suddenly, our weather senses, kicked in...

and there we were, making a mad dash...across the lake, flooring our Granny Franny boat at top speed, to beat the storm back home...It was exhilerating, throwing caution to the wind and bouncing our boat thru monster waves, crashing us, all around, as we sped like demons, back to shore, in the Bay... Me & Joe had that happen to us, more than a couple times...

Sometimes, it was helping my nieces & nephews, gather their steam, off the side of the pier, laughing at them, fishing with their bamboo poles & corn nibblets for bait...I realized fishing was fun, from the very start...for some more than others...

My nephew Mike, a bit of an intense little bugger, actually saw a giant, dazed, Northern Pike, wallowing in the short end of the water...Well, he jumped in the water, and started beating the fish with an oar...until it stopped flopping...

That's not gonna get you any brownie points from Babe Winkleman...but it got the job done...A caught fish is a caught fish...no rule books in fishing...Mike had that sucker mounted even, and we all managed to leave out the technicality of hauling that monster in...

As an older teen, I did some fishing with some buddies, off Lake Michigan, near Adler Planetarium, in Olive Park...(most spectacular view of the lakefront, in the city of Chicago...btw...) and even ventured north around the Banai' Temple off Northwestern University where my brother Joe's friend, Dennis, hauled in a giant Coho Salmon...

Sure, they said the mercury levels were too dangerous to eat a Coho from Lake Michigan but we were drinking Budweiser, which kills all germ & mercury poisons...(it says that in fine print on the side of the can...lol...)....

I'm glowing a bit, still, from eating that Coho, but "danger" is my middle name...When they crack me open on an autopsy table, down the line, they can have a good laugh with what they find inside me...

Even years later, when I moved out to San Diego, in the early 90's, living,in a one room, beach hut, apartment, 25 feet off of Ocean Beach pier...I resumed my passion for fishing,. soaking up the Cali sunshine, having a ball, hauling in baby sharks & some crazy fish called "Wahoo", that had razor sharp teeth...At night, every Friday night, about 9pm, nearby Sea World would have a great fireworks display...

and it was really surreal to be out on the end of Ocean Beach pier, with your pole in the water, people of every nationality, speaking a different language and the colors of the fireworks boldly glistening off the ocean waters...

Here I was, so far from home, with the deep, driving, mesmorizing ocean sounds surrounding me. Everybody had glow sticks, out there, glowing lime/yellow, all over, in the darkness & it was very cool, to soak it all in...considering I was just a land-lubber from the Midwest...

I even joined the San Diego Fishing Club and won a kick-ass, $600 mega-marlin pole, the first night I was there, that looked like something you would have rigged up off your big fishing trolly, off "The Cape of Good Hope"...That was alot of fun, hearing those S.D. fishing guys spin some wild tales of fishing all over the world...Those guys sailed the seven seas, and then some...making my passion for fishing look a bit silly...

a couple years back, I went over to my sister Maureen's place in Delavan, in July, and me & my buddy Jack McManus had a blast, as he hauled in a big Catfish...out of the murky waters of Delavan Lake, which is the best fishing lake around here, now...

It was funny as my nephew, Thomas and his Dad Charlie, insisted we keep the fish... because those ugly Catfish are bad fish...to throw back in...but it was too late...we were celebrating the unexpected whopper, by cracking open some cold suds...and laughing how that was totally mind-blowing...because only a few minutes before, Jack had dropped my fishing pole, to the bottom of the lake, accidentally, somewhat blasted drunk, and we were about to give it up, for the day...

Today, a new summer fishing season lies ahead and I have every intention of getting out there, some day, and see if some of the fish are still biting...and having a good time, recalling the old "fish stories" of the past...The fish always seem to get bigger, every time you tell the stories, but you can't help but lose track of time, which fish got caught when...

Who knows, if I can dig one up, on the Internet, maybe I'll break out the "Old School" fishing hat I wore all over, back in the day, as a youngster...when fishing was so fun for me...and I always felt that the "big one" was waiting for me, on the end of my line...