Viewpoint

One That Got Away

By John Weiss

When my three children were quite young, I tried to make sure that they had a chance, as I did, to learn to love fishing.

In my youth in Brainerd, my dad would take my two brothers and me to cut willow saplings that we stripped of bark, dried, and used for fishing poles. We would go out in a rowboat on Gilbert Lake and catch sunfish and maybe a few crappies, which we would put into a gunnysack, bring home, scale, gut, fry, and eat. Those short trips to a small lake near home are a personal treasure.

My children, I fear, have no such treasures.

When at their grandparents' lake home, I tried to turn John, Angela, and Charlie into anglers by making sure they had decent fishing rods and used them. I didn't like the cute little cartoon-character reels because, frankly, they are Mickey Mouse and have constantly tangled line. I wanted my children to see real fishing, using larger, better rods and reels. That was a mistake.

Today, when I fish, I often fish alone because my children don't like to fish. That is one of the greatest disappointments of my life.

Maybe some people are cut out to be anglers and others aren't. After all, my two older brothers don't fish much any more.

But the biggest reason my children don't fish, I suspect, is what I did.

I made a big mistake in their youth: I took them fishing with me.

Instead, I should have gone fishing with them.

There is a difference.

I like to fish for bass up north and use Texas-rigged plastic worms, crank baits, spinners, and maybe jig and pig. I don't catch a lot of fish, but I like to catch bigger ones. So I took my children along with me. Since they couldn't handle Texas-rigging or cranking, I'd attach a floating Rapala to their rods and have them cast for a nice largemouth bass.

The kids couldn't have cared less about all of that. They loved water but wanted even more to catch fish. Any fish. Big, little, rock bass, or largemouth. Just so it had fins and made their rods bend a little bit. That's all.

When we did sometimes fish for sunnies, I would make them put back the little ones because it's miserable cleaning them to get quarter-sized fillets. And catch-and-release is good conservation. What the children got from me was an adult's perspective.

That is far too lofty a perch for a child. They want things simple and short. If we'd go out on a boat, my children would be bored soon and want to go back to play, go to the bathroom, or get a drink of water. "Nah, wait a minute," I'd say. "Let me check one more hot spot; maybe you can see your dad land a 3-pound bass. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Frankly, no.

To a child, virtually any fish is a trophy. I've seen a child jump and whoop and holler after catching a crappie too small to keep. It's all in the heart. And that is where fishing should be. In the heart.

I am afraid I took that kind of fishing away from my kids and they never developed into latter stages of angling.

All hope is not lost, however. Angela has shown signs she'd like to come fishing with me now and then. It's more for being with her father than for catching fish. But maybe it's a start; and if I'm blessed with grandchildren, they will have Mickey Mouse rods, and we will fish for sunfish that I will clean and we will eat with gusto.

John Weiss is outdoor columnist at the Rochester Post Bulletin, where an earlier version of this essay first appeared. Used with permission; all rights reserved.