Mortality, Dad, and Bass Fishing
So the last couple weeks were a bit crazy. My father was taken in for an unexpected triple bypass surgery. There was no massive heart attack, no stroke, no drama. Just the worry of watching your father face the fact that at 70 plus, certain parts need some repair work. I am not a tremendous sky is falling worry kind of person by nature but I’d be a liar if the thoughts of my father laying there with his chest cut open as they used veins harvested from his leg to fix his heart didn’t scare me.
My brother and I both made arrangements to go down and stay with him for a few days to help out. My dad called me a few days before my departure and tells me that he has arranged for his friend Barry to take me out Bass fishing for a few hours on Sunday morning. At first I argued a bit but he was firm about having already arranged the plans. Perhaps I could have argued harder but I could tell it made him as happy as it made me to be on the water.
I am sure it bothered him not to be able to be there…. truthfully it bothered me. Fishing was the glue that held my father and I together through many years where we didn’t see eye to eye on much else. As Barry and I walked the shoreline of multiple Boca Raton water hazards my mind wandered through many of the fishing adventures that my father and I had been on through the years. Hail storms in the middle of Raystown Lake…. Busting bronze and pike in the Georgian Bay….. Watching my bobber disappear as my dad helped me get the tiny hook out of the 100th bluegill we caught on Lake Arthur.
My trip down amnesia lane was rudely interrupted as my black wooly bugger came tight and the dance was on. It was far from the largest bass we have ever pulled out of these waters but it put a smile on my face. I am not much of a religious guy but I found myself giving a nod to the fish gods for the gift and a nod to the man upstairs for the gift of time with my dad.
Dad, get well… get strong…. and keep fishing. You wouldn’t want your kid to show you up with a fly rod next time I am in Florida.
Tight Lines and Loose Pants,