11-01-2003, 03:21 PM
[cool]Congrats to my son Steve, for his appointment to the Polls & Surveys board as moderator. He was always the questioning kind. As a young kid, he once asked if bees puked peanut butter...after just finding out how honey was made, from an older brother.
Steve's first fish, a trout, succumbed to his determination...if not skill...when he was about 4 years old. We lived in Riverside, CA, and I had taken Steve and his older sister to Santa's Village, up near Big Bear. Taking the scenic tour home, we stopped by Lake Arrowhead. Since I always carry tackle in my car, I rigged up my only rod and planned to let the kids take turns catching the recently dumped planter rainbows.
I hung about six feet of leader under a small red and white plastic bobber, and baited the small hook with a single red salmon egg...trout candy. Kim, Steve's sister, got the rod first, and promptly reeled in a suicidal trout. I rebaited the hook, and made a short cast out to the zone where the little tykes were cruising along the shoreline.
Steve laughed excitedly as the bobber plunged below the surface. He giggled as he reeled against the struggling little trout. Then...disaster. The drawstring cords from the hood on his sweatshirt caught in the bail of the spinning reel and it froze up. Now the fun turned to frustration and anxiety. The laughs became tears as Steve feared losing that mighty fish.
But, Steve has always been an innovator. Makes me believe in heredity. Since he couldn't reel, he just started backing up until he dragged the hapless hatchery pet up on the bank. His sister had no sympathy. She was rolling on the ground with laughter. I managed to control my own chortles long enough to subdue the flopping monster and carry it to a much relieved Steve...now wearing an ear to ear grin.
I would have loved to have that on video tape...or even better on film. But, although I always carried tackle, I often left the camera home. Too Bad. It will always remain in my happy memory database though.
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Steve's first fish, a trout, succumbed to his determination...if not skill...when he was about 4 years old. We lived in Riverside, CA, and I had taken Steve and his older sister to Santa's Village, up near Big Bear. Taking the scenic tour home, we stopped by Lake Arrowhead. Since I always carry tackle in my car, I rigged up my only rod and planned to let the kids take turns catching the recently dumped planter rainbows.
I hung about six feet of leader under a small red and white plastic bobber, and baited the small hook with a single red salmon egg...trout candy. Kim, Steve's sister, got the rod first, and promptly reeled in a suicidal trout. I rebaited the hook, and made a short cast out to the zone where the little tykes were cruising along the shoreline.
Steve laughed excitedly as the bobber plunged below the surface. He giggled as he reeled against the struggling little trout. Then...disaster. The drawstring cords from the hood on his sweatshirt caught in the bail of the spinning reel and it froze up. Now the fun turned to frustration and anxiety. The laughs became tears as Steve feared losing that mighty fish.
But, Steve has always been an innovator. Makes me believe in heredity. Since he couldn't reel, he just started backing up until he dragged the hapless hatchery pet up on the bank. His sister had no sympathy. She was rolling on the ground with laughter. I managed to control my own chortles long enough to subdue the flopping monster and carry it to a much relieved Steve...now wearing an ear to ear grin.
I would have loved to have that on video tape...or even better on film. But, although I always carried tackle, I often left the camera home. Too Bad. It will always remain in my happy memory database though.
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