Fishing

Do you remember your first fishing trip? I believe my first trip was at the age of five. My dad took me to a little pond on Uncle Mack’s property, which was just down the street from the house we lived in our first summer in Tennessee. I don’t remember a lot about the trip except I caught two fish and my dad caught one. When you’re five, it’s not how big the fish is or if you can even eat it…it’s all about catching more fish than your dad.

 

To be honest, after that, the only memories I have of actually fishing are a very fuzzy one at Callaway Gardens in Georgia and a couple of times on Beaver Lake in New Hampshire. And while I’m sure we went more often than that (because I do remember digging for worms in our garden in Tennessee), my sharpest memories of “fishing” are simply sitting on the front porch and practicing our casting. I always thought that was great fun.

 

Emry and Ethan have been dying to go fishing for quite a while. And we probably would have taken them sooner but Ed was going to take them to the pond where he works and it’s been off-limits since Covid. With the long weekend, the idea returned and he thought of the pond one of our pastor’s sons fishes in every spare moment he has. It’s a neighborhood pond, one those “green spaces” new neighborhoods are required to have per so many houses. But its stocked, doesn’t require a fishing license, and the kids could go with friends. So, after purchasing a few necessary items, Ed took the kids over there this for a morning their first fishing trip. Each of them caught one fish…and now they ask every day when they get to go fishing again!

 

Ed, Emry, Ethan and Ethan’s first fish.