This is really long, but I think amusing. I am sure many others here have some of their best memories tied into fishing stories. A great trip does not always mean a bunch or big fish caught - is more than just about the fish.
I grew up in middle Ohio and while my brother lived to fish for largemouth and crappie, our father grew up being a carp fisherman. We never kept any but we did an awful lot of carp fishing and most of my best memories are from our fishing trips.
Time wore on and my brother and I moved away, but whenever we got back together we always made sure we went carp fishing. On one of these occasions we decided we would go down to the Muskingum River pretty much where my father fished as a child. My dad was around 60 at this time and in great health, no physical impairments at all.
So we are down at the river, bottom fishing for carp. My brother and I are sitting maybe 10 feet apart and my dad is down further, maybe 20-25 yards away from us, in his "hot spot".
First, while we are fishing, this young kid maybe 12 years old comes over and is asking my brother and I if we are having any luck. I start to reply no, but my brother interrupts and tells him no, we aren’t, but our father down there is slaying them and he should go talk to him. As the kid turns to walk away, my brother stops him and tells him that while my dad loves to talk fishing, he was really hard of hearing – so the kid would have to make sure he looked right in his eyes and talk real loud and slow, so my father could understand him. He loved to talk fishing, was just really hard of hearing.
So this poor kid goes walking over to our dad and gets right in front of him, he is standing maybe a foot away, looking up directly at his eyes and basically starts yelling real slow “ HOW ARE YOU DOING. I HEAR YOU ARE CATCHING A LOT OF FISH”.
Well turns out, because he was yelling and speaking so slow, my dad thought the poor kid had some type of mental problem, so he starts talking back to him, slow and though not yelling, in a very loud voice.
They stood there yelling at each other, realllll slow, for a good 5 minutes – my brother and I are just busting a gut.
The kid finally leaves and a few minutes later my dad saunters down our way. He stands there for a minute or so not saying anything, then he starts to talk about that poor kid, how he didn’t know what was wrong with him but he sure must have a tough life…….
I am laughing so hard I have tears coming down my cheeks and my dad is standing there looking at me like he can not believe I am laughing at this poor kid – and then my brother tells him what he told the kid.
My dad just looks at both of us, calls us both a** h*** and storms back down to his rods.
A good hour goes by and my brother and I are not getting any bites at all. My dad had caught one and was getting good bites where he was.
My brother starts telling me how we need to pack up and move down there by my dad. No way I am going down there. Growing up I was the least outdoorsy of the bunch and was known for a couple of things – crossing everyone’s lines as I could never master casting a baitcaster (I once crossed 8 lines at once - another amusing story) and also if someone was catching fish, going down and “stealing” their spot – I really think my father only fished with me because he had to and older now, I totally understand. The only thing I was, was stubborn.
So here we are now, decades later, my dad already "mad" at us anyway because of the kid and my brother is telling me we need to go down to where he is fishing.
No way, not happening.
We sit there for another good 30-40 minutes and my dad had caught another carp by then and was still getting bites. The whole time my brother is talking in my ear how we need to go down to join him, is ridiculous we are not getting anything and there is plenty of room down there for us. He then switches it to stuff like well even if you are not going, I am going down to join him .
So my brother reels his line in on both his poles and is packing all of his stuff up, telling me he is headed down there.
Well heck, if my brother is going, I am going. I don’t want to stay down there by myself. So I pull my lines in and also pack up my stuff , which was basically just some bait and I did have a chair with me as I am a disabled vet and can not sit down on the ground very well.
So both of us ready to go, we are chatting about other things and we “both” head down there. We are fishing at the bottom of a steep bank and there is a narrow path that we walked on. So we are chatting and without giving it much thought, my brother lets me take the lead. So happens my spine is totally fused and I can not turn my head even a nano inch – so when I am walking, I only see directly in front of me.
I am sure we still chatted for a few moments when I took the lead, but then I was concentrating on the rocks and the path so not paying much attention.
Turns out pretty much as soon as I got in the lead, my dear brother set everything down and stopped. I am more than halfway to my dad and he starts yelling over “man dad, he hasn’t changed a bit, you catch a couple of fish and he is coming to steal your spot”.
I immediately turn around and he is sitting down, pretending to be fishing.
My dad looks up and he apparently had not seen the humor in the yelling kid yet and I am sure all he saw was this pudgy little 11 year old walking down to cross his lines and steal his spot. He pretty much explodes, cussing me up one side and down the other – telling me how he can’t believe I am still stealing spots etc.
I try to explain that my brother had talked me into going down but he was not listening to a word I was saying , so with head down, feeling about 3 inches tall I go slinking back to where I was – and of course my brother laughing his butt off.
My father was none too pleased with me the rest of the time there that day because my brother would keep bringing it up – just driving that needle in further, spitting out something every so often like "man, you catch a couple of fish and Don still tries to steal your spot"
He did not fess up until we were in the car on our way home.
Is how fishing brought us and always kept us together and is always the first memories I think of when I think of my family. We fished together for decades so whenever we are all together again we end up sitting around telling funny stories for most of the night. I have found out tho that most of the stories always end up revolving around me ……….
Is more to fishing than catching fish
I grew up in middle Ohio and while my brother lived to fish for largemouth and crappie, our father grew up being a carp fisherman. We never kept any but we did an awful lot of carp fishing and most of my best memories are from our fishing trips.
Time wore on and my brother and I moved away, but whenever we got back together we always made sure we went carp fishing. On one of these occasions we decided we would go down to the Muskingum River pretty much where my father fished as a child. My dad was around 60 at this time and in great health, no physical impairments at all.
So we are down at the river, bottom fishing for carp. My brother and I are sitting maybe 10 feet apart and my dad is down further, maybe 20-25 yards away from us, in his "hot spot".
First, while we are fishing, this young kid maybe 12 years old comes over and is asking my brother and I if we are having any luck. I start to reply no, but my brother interrupts and tells him no, we aren’t, but our father down there is slaying them and he should go talk to him. As the kid turns to walk away, my brother stops him and tells him that while my dad loves to talk fishing, he was really hard of hearing – so the kid would have to make sure he looked right in his eyes and talk real loud and slow, so my father could understand him. He loved to talk fishing, was just really hard of hearing.
So this poor kid goes walking over to our dad and gets right in front of him, he is standing maybe a foot away, looking up directly at his eyes and basically starts yelling real slow “ HOW ARE YOU DOING. I HEAR YOU ARE CATCHING A LOT OF FISH”.
Well turns out, because he was yelling and speaking so slow, my dad thought the poor kid had some type of mental problem, so he starts talking back to him, slow and though not yelling, in a very loud voice.
They stood there yelling at each other, realllll slow, for a good 5 minutes – my brother and I are just busting a gut.
The kid finally leaves and a few minutes later my dad saunters down our way. He stands there for a minute or so not saying anything, then he starts to talk about that poor kid, how he didn’t know what was wrong with him but he sure must have a tough life…….
I am laughing so hard I have tears coming down my cheeks and my dad is standing there looking at me like he can not believe I am laughing at this poor kid – and then my brother tells him what he told the kid.
My dad just looks at both of us, calls us both a** h*** and storms back down to his rods.
A good hour goes by and my brother and I are not getting any bites at all. My dad had caught one and was getting good bites where he was.
My brother starts telling me how we need to pack up and move down there by my dad. No way I am going down there. Growing up I was the least outdoorsy of the bunch and was known for a couple of things – crossing everyone’s lines as I could never master casting a baitcaster (I once crossed 8 lines at once - another amusing story) and also if someone was catching fish, going down and “stealing” their spot – I really think my father only fished with me because he had to and older now, I totally understand. The only thing I was, was stubborn.
So here we are now, decades later, my dad already "mad" at us anyway because of the kid and my brother is telling me we need to go down to where he is fishing.
No way, not happening.
We sit there for another good 30-40 minutes and my dad had caught another carp by then and was still getting bites. The whole time my brother is talking in my ear how we need to go down to join him, is ridiculous we are not getting anything and there is plenty of room down there for us. He then switches it to stuff like well even if you are not going, I am going down to join him .
So my brother reels his line in on both his poles and is packing all of his stuff up, telling me he is headed down there.
Well heck, if my brother is going, I am going. I don’t want to stay down there by myself. So I pull my lines in and also pack up my stuff , which was basically just some bait and I did have a chair with me as I am a disabled vet and can not sit down on the ground very well.
So both of us ready to go, we are chatting about other things and we “both” head down there. We are fishing at the bottom of a steep bank and there is a narrow path that we walked on. So we are chatting and without giving it much thought, my brother lets me take the lead. So happens my spine is totally fused and I can not turn my head even a nano inch – so when I am walking, I only see directly in front of me.
I am sure we still chatted for a few moments when I took the lead, but then I was concentrating on the rocks and the path so not paying much attention.
Turns out pretty much as soon as I got in the lead, my dear brother set everything down and stopped. I am more than halfway to my dad and he starts yelling over “man dad, he hasn’t changed a bit, you catch a couple of fish and he is coming to steal your spot”.
I immediately turn around and he is sitting down, pretending to be fishing.
My dad looks up and he apparently had not seen the humor in the yelling kid yet and I am sure all he saw was this pudgy little 11 year old walking down to cross his lines and steal his spot. He pretty much explodes, cussing me up one side and down the other – telling me how he can’t believe I am still stealing spots etc.
I try to explain that my brother had talked me into going down but he was not listening to a word I was saying , so with head down, feeling about 3 inches tall I go slinking back to where I was – and of course my brother laughing his butt off.
My father was none too pleased with me the rest of the time there that day because my brother would keep bringing it up – just driving that needle in further, spitting out something every so often like "man, you catch a couple of fish and Don still tries to steal your spot"
He did not fess up until we were in the car on our way home.
Is how fishing brought us and always kept us together and is always the first memories I think of when I think of my family. We fished together for decades so whenever we are all together again we end up sitting around telling funny stories for most of the night. I have found out tho that most of the stories always end up revolving around me ……….
Is more to fishing than catching fish
