I’m not much on fishing, and being a single parent in Palo Alto, California, I didn’t have the opportunity or the knowledge to take my son fishing.
One summer, though, he went to spend a few weeks with my uncle at his log cabin in Wisconsin. I expected that fishing would be the main activity, as the log cabin was on a lake.
When my son returned home, he told me all about the vegetable garden, learning how to drive a tractor, and going to town to the drive-in for a hamburger.
I was surprised he didn’t mention fishing, so I asked him why my uncle hadn’t taken him fishing. He said they had gone fishing for bluegill once. Apparently, they were in a small metal boat on the lake when a fierce thunderstorm came up out of the blue. Being in the middle of the lake, with nowhere to go, my uncle told my son to “put your feet up on the seat” while lightning and thunder was all around them.
This was the end of fishing for bluegill in Wisconsin for my son, and he hasn’t asked to go fishing since that summer, in 1984.
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