A while back, after the whole event which was the catalyst to my new hobby, my middle sons birthday was coming up. Even though the whole first trip fishing with the family was a bit crazy, he was in love with the idea of fishing. Now if you read that blog post, you might recall me mentioning my two boys being diagnosed with High Functioning Autism. This was going to be my middle son's seventh birthday.
I'm think'n, "The boy's got plenty of toys. I'm kind of tired of just doling out trinkets for a birthday. Hmmm... What else can we do????"
<mull this over for several days, a few weeks, a month? bah! a period of time>
After, a period of time, it dawns on me. FISHING!
As soon as that dawns on me, the weight of the prior fishing experience settles in.
Thoughts: "You're a dad right? Dads don't look at challenges as road blocks. They look at them as opportunities! Adventure! RIGHT!?!?!"
More subtle thoughts: "How the hell do I know?"
Now, I didn't really have a dad around. Actually, I didn't meet my real dad until I was 33. I think. 30's some where. Bloody hell. Exactly when does "I'm going senile" really kick in? Moving on...
So after trying to psych my self up I realize, "Your an idiot with fishing and this is your son's birthday. Get educated or go have a day being a dolt.". Now I wasn't really an idiot, am not really an idiot, not an idi... damn it. I'm smurt. OCAY?!
So I knew the levels of my ignorance to the hobby known as Fishing and decided to do some research on the subject. All I really knew is that I wanted to go somewhere other than a pond at a park that has a slew of crazy geese and ducks that will hunt you and your family down, all the way to the mini-van. But that's a different short story. I knew that I wanted something a bit.... neater, for ma boys birthday.
TO THE WEB!
<spend several weeks drowning in a sea of advertisements and random adult based content sites>
You'd think I'd know not to blindly search the Internet. <shutter> Kids, the web is a dangerous place and I will forever use a cheese grader on my memory every chance I get, just because of the Internet, nets, depending on who you are.
So I fumble around on various web sites. I literally spent a few weeks or more researching this, that, and the other. I had to figure out where to go, what's an actual reasonable bait to use, what kind of fish I expect to catch, the whole gambit as I described in my little random beginners guide to fishing. In the end, I dumped all that knowledge, bought some random gear, grabbed a thang of worms and our poles, and off we went to hunt down some catfish.
Looking back, I realised that what really drove me into this hobby was the research I did. I spent hours digging through content on the web. Going "OOooo".... "Aaaahhh".... at every neat pic of someones catch. But it was my son's birthday that got me that far.
So off we go. To Folsom Lake here in sunny California. My son, a high functioning autistic kid with little to no coordination and less a sense of self preservation when it comes to things like HOOKS FLYING THROUGH THE DAMN AIR! Sorry, flash back. And I, the Dad who knows everything. Can I get a WOO WOO from all the dads out there tired of being god? When the hell did they put Omnipotent in the definition of Father. For crying out loud. HOOOMAN. I am HOOMAN. Never the less.
I take my knowledge of all things of this world and all others along with us to Folsom Lake. Now... No one drew blood. That's the thing to remember. Anyone remember me mentioning my OCDish issues and over protective nature comments? My chest was seizing with every random twirl my son made.
More Thoughts: "He's gonna lose an eye... I'm going to have to push that damn hook through his finger, nose, leg, skull... I'm going to have to push that damn hook through MY finger, nose, leg, scrotum, skull...".
Hey I'm protective of my self to.
So there we are. My son, smile glistening in the sunrise. Me, breathing in a paper bag. It was a magical moment.
In the end, he and I both caught a small mouth bass. Had to throw'em back. I know nothing of small mouth bass or really anything at this point. After a mild fit about throwing them back, I reminded him about catch and release on some random Discovery Channel fishing show and adventure was back into his mind. Quickly he returned to stalking the Amazon Rain Forrest.
So after catching a few fish and a mild heart attack of fifty, we head home. All in all, it was a good day, that I didn't repeat for several months due to recuperation requirements. Thanks to my son, I found a new hobby, okay obsession.... ish. Hook, Line, and Sinker... Really, that little midget nearly got me with all three that day...
I need a drink...
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