WRITING ON THE FLY
By GEORGE LISET
As I walked into the river, my mind was going through the “To Do” list. On the list was Fathers Day.
Fathers Day evokes a gamut of emotions, depending on the type of relationship one has with their dad. Freud had much to say about mothers, but I am not sure how much he had to say about dads.
My father passed away almost two years ago. I miss talking with him, especially when it comes to fishing. Fishing was our bond. I enjoyed sending him my articles and pictures and hearing about his fishing adventures in his boat or on the banks of the Neuse River in North Carolina.
My father was a career U.S. Marine and served in the Occupation of Japan, Korea, The Cuban Missile Crisis and Vietnam for two tours. He had more medals and ribbons than Macy’s Christmas wrapping department. It was only as I got older that I had appreciation for all that he had gone through.
When I reached the river it was a little low, so I decided to tie on a dry dropper. I put on a size 18 Pale Morning dun and dropped a size 20 Beadhead Pheasant Tail Nymph and started drifting it down the stream. My mind started drifting again. I felt pretty lucky to be on the river. Then I remembered a comment from a friend about, “When did you become so interested in fly fishing?” I had to think about that for a minute.
My dad was always a fisherman. As a boy he fished small ponds and rivers in Northern Wisconsin. When he joined the Marines he fished the shores of California and North and South Carolina. My brother and I fished a few times with him when we were really young. We had fun playing with the fish and the crabs, but I am not sure how much fun he had.
My mother, brother and I moved up to Massachusetts during my dad’s tours to Vietnam. I was lucky enough to have two great friends, Terry and Jimmy, whose dads had boats and they would take me out for Flounders, Mackerel, Blues and Stripers. As I got older, I have such an appreciation for the fathers and men who stood in the gap. If you have someone like that in your life, let them know how much it meant. I’m sure it will mean even more to them.
I was brought back to reality as my line jumped and I landed a nice little Sunfish. The water was definitely getting warmer. I put the fish back and threw out my line and quickly got back into my train of thought. Soon came sports and work during the summer. Then college, graduation and more work. Then there was meeting a wonderful woman and moving to New Hampshire for work.
A family soon followed. As the children grew I purchased my first boat since high school. It was a 12’ blue canoe with a big red maple leaf on the bow. Once the kids learned the finer skills of paddling we broke out the fishing rods. As the family got bigger, so did the canoe, and the fishing poles morphed into fly rods.
My son and I will be heading to Pittsburg, N.H., to fish in two weeks to celebrate Fathers Day. I am going to try to get him to help me teach my oldest grandson Jameson to fly fish this summer. I am going to need to rest up for that adventure, he is a busy boy. My line danced again and this time it was a small Blue Gill. I released him and reeled in my line. The walk back to the truck was cathartic.
I had recently read an article that lamented the fact that there are no courses on learning how to parent, and that most of it is learned by doing. I was fortunate to have some great people in my life that were great role models for parenting, but it is an imperfect science. Whatever your experience was, reach out to someone who made a difference. Maybe even take them fishing.