Tuesday, December 19, 2017

Reflections, Part 1

My earliest memories of fishing have to do with fishing freshwater ponds or lakes from the shore.

No doubt, my father and brother were responsible for putting a rod with a bobber and worm, helping me toss it out, and retrieving sunny's or other panfish prevalent in those waters.

I'm not one of those with vivid, photographic and detailed recall from my very young years. I have images, some memory of conversations, and get refreshers by browsing photo albums where I can glean a story line, putting everything together.

Places I fished were, of course, Tommy's Pond in Metuchen, NJ, which was 1 block away from our Rose Street home.

In the summer

In the winter (great skating spot as it was so shallow, no mother feared for her children...)

 I also fished when we were on vacation, which always consisted of being near some body of water, often times with a small dock adjacent to the cottage. I recall seeing my father fishing from shore, after he already had a solo session sometime before the crack of dawn while I was still sleeping.
Places like Lake George, NY. Pine Creek, PA (where I collected crayfish, frogs, salamanders...) and others along the way to or from some destination around the country during one of our "summer vacations" [insert Chevy Chase's "Vacation" series theme music here]

Some of the most vivid memories have to do not with my fishing, but looking at my father's catch and gear after he went out for trout in NJ... often on opening day

My dad was a dedicated freshwater lure fisherman, but my brother and I did discover a complete flyfishing outfit, with a tying kit, and flies that he apparently tied, in contrast to our mother's denials.
Seems like the old man did what he had to, in order to avoid that statement "what, another fishing rod?" :)

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