I have the feeling I once knew how to clean a fish. I think maybe brothers thought it was a skill I should have.
But I don’t think it stuck.
(The little guy pictured above is a little small for that anyways.)
It’s been a long time since I did any fishing. I have nice memories of sitting in the back of the boat holding the fishing line while a brother rowed. The hook end of the line had a bright red and white bobber and my end of the line was wrapped around a piece of beach wood. Elegant in its simplicity.
I remember as I carefully held the line my brother, the middle one, rowed us slowly and to my delight told me my first two dirty jokes. I’ll spare you. They weren’t very dirty, just a naughty word or two, but I still remember them both because I was so thrilled to be thought old enough to hear them. I can only hold about five jokes in my head but I still remember those two.
I also remember being in a boat with a few brothers at once, probably a small engine involved, and not having a role but getting to be there. I guess that was my role, wasn’t it? I had three older brothers, and then a six-year gap, and then me, so I was a very different creature from those guys. They may remember differently but, in my mind, I did a good job just fitting in. Not getting in the way, not falling overboard, not spilling my special bottle of pop. That last was a boating treat and it was always difficult to pick between bright green, bright orange, or bright pink. The only thing I really couldn’t do at all like my brothers would become apparent when that bottle of pop worked its way through me. I so wished I could stand and pee over the edge like them. My method involved brothers helping me hang over the side of the boat, and there was always lots of chatter of dropping me in, or discussions of what huge toothy fish they saw lurking below me. I so wished for what they had so I could pee over the edge like them.
And my last memory is of getting up in the morning at the cabin, wandering out on the porch in pyjamas, and finding that the brothers and maybe my dad had just got back from early morning fishing and breakfast was cooked.
I think fishing might be that kind of thing that gives you lots of good memories.
I had a flurry of fishing thoughts so have designed the three new canvases above: Five fishing rods, nine fishing lures, and a hanging of a bunch of little bobbers like I used to watch from the back of the boat.