Reel Joy

By Jack Blandford

Honesty is the first chapter of the book of wisdom.

~Thomas Jefferson

Our children Emma and Tucker learned early in life about the joy of fishing, whether from their grandpa's boat, casting from the shore, or snapper fishing off the jetty at the beach near our summer home. It focused them on the moment, with no video games, no TV, no distractions.

Whether we caught something or not, it was the quest that counted and the fun we had together enjoying nature. They learned how to bait the hook, cast, and "present the bait." They learned how to snag the fish and bring it in. They also learned how to clean and filet their catch and prepare it for dinner. They learned the patience and persistence that it takes to be successful.

And of course there was always a little bit of competition and sibling rivalry that added to the fun as long as it was by the rules.

Each year, toward the end of July, our beach association held its annual "Snapper Fishing Contest" (small bluefish that have not yet come of age for the deeper water) at the marina inlet. It always drew quite a crowd. All of the kids were full of energy and anticipation. The parents were a bit anxious and wondered where the hook would actually end up when the cast was made.

To start the competition all the kids would line up along the inlet and when the "First Mate" would sound the horn, everyone would cast their lines into the water in hopes of coming away with the biggest fish of the day. It was like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting.

It was a mixture of talent, from the "experienced" anglers just crushing the cast, to some of the more inexperienced kids who spent most of the time tangled in yards of monofilament. There was an occasional scream of pain, as the hook would get caught on a finger or other body part, or even a parent. You could also tell which parents grew up with a rod and reel and which ones had just purchased the starter set.

Help and guidance was always within easy reach. Although it was considered a "contest," most parents understood that it was a fun way to introduce everyone to the sport of fishing. The more experienced parents would help anyone who needed it. Overall it was a great day of fun, with no distractions from the outside world.

Determination was written all over those little faces. As one of the kids would catch a fish you would hear a screech of excitement: "I GOT ONE!" There were squirming, slippery, smelly fish flying everywhere, wiggling, trying to get back into the water. The kids giggled and wrestled their prizes into the bucket.

When they caught what they thought was their biggest fish, they would take their prized catch to the judging table under the pavilion on the beach. There, the "First Mate" would carefully place the catch on the scale. Then the kids would release their fish back into the Sound from the jetty.

One year, however, when our daughter presented her fish to be weighed, the judge reached over and sliced open the fish, removed its entrails, and then weighed it.

My wife Jeanne and I were shocked. "Joe," I asked. "What happened to catch and release? Why do you have to clean each of the fish?"

Joe looked up with a rather apologetic look on his face, and whispered, "We found that last year some of the fathers were dropping fishing weights down the throats of the fish before the kids brought them over for the weigh-in. So their fish would be heavier."

We were dumbfounded. A simple, fun competition between five- and six-year-olds became a crass example of how adults had lost touch with right and wrong. Their lust for winning had tarnished something that was a pure, fundamental joy.

It was Emma and Tucker's excitement that snapped us out of the harsh moment. We all gave Emma a big hug and congratulated her as Joe announced, "We have a new record to beat." Emma was at the top of the leader board and she was excited.

As we walked away from the weigh-in table we took notice of the father and son behind us. The father was anxiously pushing his boy up to the table. When his fish was weighed it came in four ounces lighter than Emma's.

The father became irate and insisted that it be weighed again. When it came up the same, he grabbed his son and pulled him back to the inlet. The father handed him his pole and said, "Are you going to let a girl beat you? Get your line in the water. Catch a bigger one."

Jeanne and I gave both kids a big hug. Together we had a good laugh and figured he was probably one of the fathers who had stuffed weights into the fish the prior year.

Emma just shrugged. Exhibiting understanding beyond her years she grabbed her little brother and together they headed off to fish some more. For them it was just fun.

The kids are grown now but fishing continues to teach us all valuable lessons. Watching my kids experience its joys has become the prize catch for me.

Some folks take a little longer to really understand what fishing is all about. All we can do is hope that they will soon realize the joy that's found in its simplicity. Cast the line. Have faith. And enjoy the reward of what you reel in. It continues to be a thrill in our lives.

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